Tuesday, April 27, 2010

To Erin, in response to a Facebook post which I felt was particularly egregious (featuring copious use of asterisk-masked profanity)

Erin: "I am NOT going to get started and tirade. However...." And then on came the tirade.

Yeah, "both parties have made many mistakes and the blaming and pointing fingers is getting us NO WHERE!", but " I am done even arguing with or debating liberals." Yeah, way to avoid the name-calling. First step is to kill the words conservative and liberal. Admit that they mean nothing. The only purpose they serve is to keep us from dialogue, because after all, if a person is a liberal or a conservative, we don't have to talk with them, we know how they are going to think and react, right? Wrong. Doesn't matter if it's liberal crap or conservative crap, crap is crap and comes from the same source, an asshole.

(Just as an aside, OF COURSE Obama was adamant about passing health care. If he wasn't adamant, he gets called a waffler who doesn't live up to his promises and doesn't stand for anything. If he is adamant (as he was) he is accused of ramming through legislation without listening to the people. I'd rather him use my tax money to help people as opposed to having them killed. He who has ears to hear, let them hear.)

(I will now grant Brian O.'s request for Democrat bashing. They have no balls. Rahm Emanuel is the only one with anything approaching a spine. There. Equal time.)

And Brian my former lab partner says "We need out of the box ideas to save a republic that's drowning under its own weight." Well, Brian, guess what. To quote Dana Carvey as Bush Sr. "Ain't guh happen." Because once the thinker is out of the box the guy with the hammer is there to bash his f*cking head in, like ducks at a carnival game. Don't think so? What's Robert Kennedy up to these days? Martin Luther King? Malcolm X? John F. Kennedy?

Brian the lab partner, you wanted me to write, so here it is.This is how each party can win the Presidency in 2012. Democrats, you want Obama for a second term? Bust your ass for Sarah Palin. Go to every rally, switch parties and vote for her in the primaries, grit your teeth and wear your Palin Power T-shirt, do whatever it takes to get her nominated. Because she is the only one Obama is going to have a chance in hell against.

Republicans, you want to win the Presidency in 2012? Don't nominate someone who is 60 years old or over. I am serious. Study the statistics. Whenever there has been an age difference of ten years or more, the young guy wins every time. Every time. Unless their name is Sarah Palin, who has no chance in hell. Let's throw out some names. Mike Huckabee. Bobby Jindal. Tim Pawlenty. Don't even think about Mitt Romney. That evangelical voting bloc ain't gettin' behind no Mormon. Plus he's over 60. No Presidency for you. Next!

There, Brian of the lab partner Brians, you wanted me to write. Now I have real issues to deal with, not this political bullsh*t.


PS- Damn, that was good. I think this is going on my blog :)

Saturday, April 03, 2010

Out to find the better part

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me

I'm more than a bird…I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me.

I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd…but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed…but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me.

Up, up and away…away from me
Well it's all right…You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy…or anything…

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
inside of me ......

I'm only a man in a funny red sheet
I'm only a man looking for a dream

I'm only a man in a funny red sheet

It's not easy to be me...

---Five For Fighting, "Superman"

Friday, April 02, 2010

What’s so Good about it?

Good Friday. The day Christ died (supposedly). Day of penance.


I have a memorial to go to today. The 16-year-old son of some friends died suddenly in his sleep. He was autistic. I knew him.

I met him several times. He used to smile a lot, and out of nowhere sing Mary Had a Little Lamb. He didn't always know his own strength. He once came close to breaking the nose of the church worker who was watching him during a service.

This boy isn't getting a funeral procession. The citizens of Elyria aren't putting his name on banners so they can be seen mourning, they aren't laying teddy bears at the doorstep of any residence or place of business, in fact, the majority of this city is going to go to bed tonight and wake up in the morning and not even realize that the 16-year-old son of some wonderful people isn't coming out of the ground, he isn't going to get to roughhouse with his little brother anymore, he isn't going to give another hug. As if the presence of a badge makes a life more valuable than another.

This is affecting me like a death hasn't affected me in some time, and really, it shouldn't. This isn't my story. To come out in a blog and talk about the tears I've shed for this boy makes me just as bad as the leaches who put up ever larger memorials to a police officer just so the Chronicle-Telegram photographer can grab a shot and put it on the front page. Doesn't it? I don't know. One thing I do know is this. I have an autistic son. I have an autistic daughter. And I can't process the idea that someday my son could die in the same way. I just can't get past that idea, that a part of you could disappear and you would be expected to go on living. It's like someone taking your lungs and telling you to breathe as before. Taking a piece of your brain and telling you to think. Taking your legs and having you run a marathon. You can do it, but it would be a lot easier with the parts you had before. Wouldn't it?

And with all due respect to my Christian friends, shedding tears does not hint at some lack of belief in the resurrection of the dead. Shedding tears makes me a human being with emotions that work, emotions that I was created with.

My son hurts himself. He bangs his head on doors, on walls, on filing cabinets. He has a foam rubber helmet, but if he doesn't want to wear it, he isn't going to. I sometimes spend whole days attempting to keep him from doing harm, to himself or to us. But if it was a choice between the stress of raising him or the sorrow of losing him forever, I would take a lifetime of abuse just to keep him in my arms.

But one couple doesn't have that luxury anymore.

And I think more people should care.

And I think more people should stay home from Tenebrae services and make this couple a pot of soup, or a lasagna. Or give them a hug.

I don't think Jesus would mind. In fact, I think Jesus has plans tonight.

He's attending a memorial service at Chestnut Ridge Baptist Church. You'll be able to spot him.

He'll be that long-haired guy standing next to the casket, weeping.