I'm On It

Excitement and loss devastation and heroism defined Infamy and focus, "We're in, we're in!" Destruction and pain on all sides Propaganda and body parts Cartoons and evil defined A tear for the dead and a shout at the hunted "How could they have been so blind?" Lines drawn in the sand A new standard of living to be idealized those removed beneath the notice of men with profits to realize The jungle sings its cruel song The shadows laugh and destroy Technology emboldens but fails to deliver Just the tallest of the toys To each, his need in turn From each his strength in time fine until true natures emerge Push back, push back, must hold the line Corruption held up as the lesser Two evils or three or four The warm and well fed with no reason to see the eyes of revenge at their door The height of hubris beckons "An idea to be changed!", we're sold And the retribution we watched again and again is the reason for it,

I read a news report today about a five year old who was arrested, (actually, held in police custody), for bringing a gun to school. The gun was in his backpack, and went off accidentally. No one was hurt, thank goodness. The administration of the school said the boy will be dealt with as per their zero tolerance policy toward weapons in school. The story happened in Tennessee, which happens to have a statute that says children under the age of nine can’t be charged with a crime, so, thankfully, this five year old baby is not going to the slammer. One thing that made this story absurd, (among the many, many things that made this story absurd), were the comments below the story. Things like, “Where were the parents?” and “It’s shameful how people let their kids do whatever they want.” And on and on. The people that commented were very clear in their disdain for the parents of the five year old, going so far as to advocate the removal of the child from their custody. Most interestin

I saw a graphic today of a biker - tats on both arms, long, ZZ Top beard, shades, do rag, you know, the classic American biker. The graphic had text that read something along the lines of, “I may look strange to you, but I cried when my daughter broke her foot and my mom is proud of me…” and so on. The thrust of the piece was, I guess, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”. A noble sentiment, but I have to ask… Hi, I’m America… have we met? If you have a long beard, are covered with tattoos and look like you will eat souls given half the chance, people are going to think a variety of things about you… and not all of them will be pleasant. Is that right? Is that the way it should be? No. Of course not. But, is it true? Abso-fucking-lutely. (See? I used a curse word. Doesn’t that conjure up a preconception about me?) The way we look, the way we dress and the way we interact with others shapes the way they look at us, feel about us and interact with us. That’s the truth, whether you t

I was out picking up some stuff, and I wanted a pretzel. I went into the mall and got one, (actually, I got a cup of pretzel bites, but I digress). I paid for my order, and the change was about 85 cents. I was heading into the bookstore not far from the mall when a young man approached me. He asked if I had change for a dollar. Reaching into my pocket, I told him I didn’t think I had a full dollar’s worth.While I was comically drawing forth quarters and nickels I asked him what he needed. He replied that he needed change for the bus. Having retrieved all of the coins I carried, I proceeded to give the handful of money to him. He offered me the dollar. I waved it away, and unceremoniously dropped the coins into his hand. He accepted it gracefully, but his face told me he wasn’t used to accepting such charity. Not wanting to offend him, I turned and said, “Do something nice for someone else today.” A smile broke out on his face. Few things in my life were as dazzling and warm and wo

My wife and I. We help. We volunteer. We helped a bunch of people do a job today that needed to be done. Not for any grand or glorious purpose. Not because the fate of the world, or our nation, or even our town hung in the balance. Just because some people we hold dear needed a hand. As you might know from reading my irregularly-posted nonsense, my kids belong to a theater troupe. It’s not just any troupe. It’s not a star factory where the talented ones are pushed forward while the average kid is relegated to carrying as spear. It’s the kind of troupe where the shy kid gets a few lines just to give them an excuse to speak in public. Where the little one gets a key line or action to perform, so they and their parents can burst with pride at the end of the show. It’s the kind of troupe where every kid is welcomed, and made to be part of the family. The kind of group that is a non profit, where they rely on parent volunteers to help pull stuff together and make things happen for the

You can't have America without freedom, although the last president and the current one have certainly tried to remove as many freedoms as possible. Even though, to me, the Second Amendment means the National Guard, (and it's painfully obvious to me that it doesn't mean you can own a howitzer or a bazooka just because you want one), I have to wonder... why not? Why can't I own a bazooka? What if I want to not just kill a deer, but completely obliviate it, just for kicks? I'm an American. I can do whatever I want, as long as I don't run afoul of any laws or hurt anyone, (whichever is easier to explain away in court). The answer finds me pretty easily. If I wanted to completely obliviate a deer with a bazooka, that would be CRAZY. Hence, I shouldn't own a firearm of any kind, (because I'm fucking insane... just to be clear). There's no reason for me to own an assault rifle, so wanting one brings my sanity into question. Hence, I shouldn't have on