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October 2005

October 31, 2005

As I've mentioned here on many occasions, I read a lot, particularly internet stories. Among the best gay internet stories I've read in the past couple years, I would include all of the stories written by a fellow who uses the alias of "FreeThinker". He creates interesting stories set in the 1970's or 1980's in one place or another across the United States, and he writes the stories to encompass the very believable interactions of a large number of characters within each story. His most recent effort, Love in the Garden of Deceit, is honestly not his best story in my opinion (which may not seem fair to say since it has a ways to go before its conclusion, but the writing already is not as strong or flowing at some points compared to his other works). Just because it isn't his best work, however, doesn't mean that it isn't quite well done, and I am quite anxious to read every new chapter when it comes out. This particular story strikes home for me because it deeply explores the abuse of children in all of its forms. One character, a teenage boy, is verbally and emotionally abused by his mother and ignored by his father. Another character is physically abused by his father. Yet another character is sexually, and sometimes physically and verbally as well, abused by his father. The way that the story has approached the abuse is very well-done and realistic such that even though these three main boys know each other and interact together, it still does not seem contrived or overdone. If anything it probably reflects reality quite well considering child abuse is much more wide-spread than anyone is ever willing to admit.

As it so happens,I not only read FreeThinker's stories but I also read his blog. Like I do occasionally with a wide variety of blogs and forums I follow, I post comments now and again when I feel compelled. I've done so twice on this blog, once regarding politics and once regarding this story I've just mentioned. This most recent comment, regarding his story, was because of a post he wrote that said many of his readers were upset that he was writing this abuse into his story. I suppose that, like me, many of his readers have read his works before, and abuse of any kind has never been there until this particular story, so these repeat readers are surely shocked. Still, for his readers to be criticizing an author because he broaches a serious and real-life problem is not only unfair, it is somewhat narrow-minded. I have had personal experience with exactly this sort of criticism regarding my own stories when I even mentioned child abuse of a character, and I could certainly relate to how unexpected and frustrating such comments are.

While I do sometimes comment on various blogs and forums, I've never seen any reason to carry those discussions back to this Journal, but this time feels different to me. This time I can't seem to get either the blog entry or my comments off of my mind, and my own personla memories that inspired my whole involvement have been close to my mind for the last few days. And of course a large part of this Journal is meant to explain me and who I am, and what things have made me who I am, and I think that perhaps this is a very useful insight. So here it is: first, the blog entry and then my comment.

Emotional Ties

I have been posting romantic stories on the Internet for some time as practice for the novel I am writing and I have developed a loyal and supportive following, for whom I am very grateful. Before I began to post my stories, I had very little confidence in myself and belief that I could accomplish anything of value with my life. Now, after four years and many encouraging email messages, I realize, not to brag, that I might be able to fulfiull my dream of being a published writer. As the first draft of my novel nears completion, however, I have experienced something I have not been accustomed to in my recent writing.

In my most recent story, a character whom many of my readers have come to love, is physically, emotionally, and sexually abused by his father. This has shocked some of my readers who have been with me since my first story in 2002 and prompted them to write of their anger and hurt.

I was abused as a child and adolescent, not by my father, but my other members of my family and by outsiders. That abuse was sexual, emotional, and physical. I have written of the frequent beatings I endured in school, the constant ridicule and belittlement at home, and my subsequent self-destructive behavior later in my adolescence and my early adulthood. I wanted to write about the feelings young teenage boys have when they are betrayed by those whom they trust, of the sense of shame and guilt, of the scars that last for decades. Even today, when someone criticises me, I often find myself returning to the days when I was thirteen and being shouted at, insulted, demeaned by people who should have encouraged me.

I was quite wrecked by the surprising criticism I received for this story, which is still in progress. I felt the same shame I experienced as a boy, the same feeling of embarrassment. I very nearly removed my blog from the server and disappeared from the Internet. But, several friends have helped me through this and have explained a few points.

First, I created a powerful and believable character in whom many readers have invested a great deal of care and interest. That they are angry with the direction the story has taken is an indication that they care and I have succeeded in my purpose.

Second, that I react as I do shows the scars I still have, scars which have been opened by my writing of this story. John D. Fitzgerald and Robert C. Meredith, in their book Structuring Your Novel, (New York: Harper & Row/ Perennial, 1972), write that nine out of ten published first novels are based on personal experience. I believe this is because the best writing is about subjects with which the writer is most familiar and about which he or she is most passionate. Fe wsubjects better meet these criteria than one's own life. However, it's more than that. Writing is cathartic; it helps one place the past in better perspective and gain a clearer understanding of what happened. This story is therapeutic, in a sense.

Third, if people are angered by the plot, perhaps it is opening their eyes to events in their lives they have avoided and might need to confront.

In conclusion, I am continuing the story, damn the torpedoes, and will see what happens. Perhaps, all of us will be stronger when it's completed.

I am grateful for my readers for you have truly given me a new life.

And here's my reply:

I understand your situation. As a BFA in a Creative Writing program I submitted a number of stories which touched on abusive parents - mostly verbal and emotional abusers and sometimes physically abusive parents, but not sexually abusive. I rarely went into great detail, using brief incidents or reminiscences to convey the depth of the abuse and the impact upon the abused character. Invariably, whenever I submitted one of these stories for a writers' workshop, a large number of my classmates would express discouraging opinions. Much like your readers are telling you, my peers were telling me that they found the abuse unbeliveable, too extreme, too harsh, too all-encompassing, or too unexplained. They also couldn't believe that the victim wouldn't show signs or reactions to the abuse, even indirectly, or that he wouldn't tell someone. I contended that most studies show that victims are too ashamed or afraid to say something, and they are very anxious about being found out. My peers would not accept that. I went on to explain that I had been abused as a child by my father, and that what I was writing was often quite mild in comparison to my own experiences. I explained that I was letting "life inspire art". Their response was that just because something really happened didn't make it believeable in a story.

I was abused by my father as a child - verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually. As I have struggled with the memories and after-effects of that trauma, I have told friends of the things I endured. They always listen patiently. Sometimes I feel that they have their doubts that things were fully as bad as I claim, but they never say anything. They do after I've finished speaking, however, keep very quiet and find a way to change the subject. At most someone utters an "I'm sorry" before trying to shift conversation.

When my peers in my writing classes refused to accept the stories of abuse that I had written I could not understand why. It is the situations with my friends that have been more instructive to me, revealing what I think is a sort of denial in which most people engage. I don't think most people want to face the reality of the abuse of children, certainly not beyond a news article claiming that a child molester has been caught and prosectued. Hearing the details makes people painfully aware of what they surely know happens to large numbers of kids everywhere, and they feel frightened and ashamed that they have done nothing to stop the abuse. In fact I believe that this is why the public has become so obsessed with tracking sex offenders for life, even after they have served their time. People want to believe that this sort of action against former sex offenders will solve the problem, but they fail to address the real problem, namely that most child abuse of any kind, particularly sexual abuse, comes from someone very close to the victim, often a family member and often someone who has no prior criminal history for such things.

As a child I was terrified and ashamed, and I often came to believe that I deserved no better because I had been belittled by my father so often. As an adult I have accepted that I deserved far better and that what happened to me wasn't my fault, but that has not removed the painful memories I have of the past. I, too, became self-destructive without realizing why until much later. I, too, did and do allow myself to take criticism too much to heart, and I have a difficult time accepting compliments and praise. I, too have written stories as a cathartic act. I, too, have had critics of my stories who I did not expect and could not understand. But I, too, know, as I think you do, that these things happen. They happen far too often. And just because people are squeemish or deeply in denial about such things, they must be forced to face the realities of child abuse, especially if they don't like it. Someone has to open their eyes. That sort of awareness is the only way that the abuses of children can be combatted.

Please accept my thanks for writing in your usual excellent style, and thank you for putting yourself through the effort of making it. Writing about such things, particularly with a personal history of abuse, is surely at times very painful and upsetting for you. I know it was for me. Thank you again. I appreciate what you are doing.

Posted at 9:13 PM

October 30, 2005

I was warned; really I was. I just wouldn't listen though, would I? I just had to see for myself.

The Hulk was on USA network tonight. It boggles the mind that any script could be so badly written. Don't even get into the issues of bad acting and crappy CGI special effects. The problem with this movie begins the moment it starts, and that problem is an abysmal script. Consider this, among other things: this movie is a comic book adaptation, a movie about a comic book super-hero, a mutant. Even though the Hulk is the basis of this movie, the accident that creates the Hulk doesn't happen until a full half hour into the film, and the Hulk himself never even emerges until 45 minutes have passed. Personally I don't think there's any way that any comic book adaptation could work if you had no presence of the main character for 45 minutes, even if the script were incredible, and this film never even has a single incredible moment, let alone an overriding aspect of being incredible. In fact it would be amazing to me if most people were able to even keep awake long enough to make it through that first slow-paced, uninteresting 45 minutes and finally see the Hulk for the first time in the film, albeit that he's barely visible in the darkly shadowed rooms in which he first appears.

I want to believe that the script writers and director were trying to focus more on the human side of the story and the human struggles of Bruce Banner to deal with his alter ego, the Hulk. But having watched the Incredible Hulk TV series as a kid, I know that the human side can be done well, even when the scripts are pretty simplistic and unoriginal. Yet even with a history of a few years of TV episodes, the script writers of this movie couldn't pull off anything interesting or compelling at any point in this movie.

Why was I so bullheaded, believing that there must be something worth watching in this travesty, this waste of millions of dollars? How could I have been so stupid? Oh, it's such a sad night to have wasted any time on such bad, bad cinema. This wouldn't even qualify as a 'B' movie. It's simply too, too bad, possibly worse than Plan 9 from Outer Space - at least that was so bad that it was funny. No wonder Hollywood is seeing diminished returns at the box office. Who would pay to have seen this sort of thing?

Oh, the horror, the horror.

Posted at 11:19 PM

October 29, 2005

"Are all adult problems as depressing as this?" he said.

"Not at all. Most of them involve taxes," she replied. "So what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"... dead is an option, right?"

"Of course," she replied. "Of course, only adults don't have death, we have retail jobs."

- from Something Positive

Posted at 1:23 AM

October 28, 2005

I had the furnace men come today to inspect and clean and check things out with the furnace. As far as I'm concerned it's a bit of overkill to have them come out for what they do, particularly considering they come out in the spring as well (although they check the air conditioning condenser then, too). My grandmother is certain that they are necessary, however, since that's how she's been doing things for decades, and in all fairness it is her money to spend as she wants (even though I'm the one who will have to suffer later when she's worrying about losing all of her money and having to live like she did in the depression). As usual they arrived just after eight o'clock, ready to go, and as usual it took them about an hour.

The key here is that I'm using the pronoun "them". Normally it would be "him", as there is only ever one guy that comes to work on our furnace, even when there is an actual repair involved. Today, however, there was also an apprentice (or a journeyman, if that's what they call them in the trades, although they may just call them 'the new guy'). In any case, the new guy was young compared to anyone else who I've ever seen from this company. Not young as in a teenager, but young compared to these older fortyish and fityish men who usually show up. This guy was almost surely mid-twenties, and he had a smaller build than these guys generally have. Now in case I've never made it clear, I'm attracted to guys with smaller, slighter builds, and this guy did, for that reason, stand out right away. I didn't pay too much attention to him, though, because he had a somewhat simple appearance at first glace, and I didn't think anything much at the time. Plus, of course, he was busy being taught about my furnace model.

While they were working, checking out the furnace, I was going about cleaning up old newspapers and coupons from my grandma's kitchen, collecting recycling, putting out the trash for the weekly collection, filling up my grandma's pill box, and putting together a grocery list - the usual. I wasn't paying much attention to the furnace guys until 'the new guy' passed by me on the way out to their van for some meter. I only had a fleeting glance, but I was more intrigued with what I saw, realizing that while his hair was a mousy, sandy blond and fairly flat to his head, it was also like silk and just very fine and light. Mine can be somewhat like that when it's short, which his was, so I filed that away for the moment.

I noticed him again when he asked to be shown the thermostat. I notice his body was an average build, if a bit slight, but the standard tradesman clothing they had him in made him look awkward, with the shirt still a bit stiff and loose and the pants a bit bunchy. Once he'd used those work clothes a bit they would be hang better, and he would as a result look better, I just hadn't realized it until he was close up. So I showed him the thermostat and went back about my business.

Not too long after that they were done, and 'the new guy' was the one to give me the work receipt and go through the checklist with me. He wazlked up to me in the kitchen, holding the checklist up for us both to see, and when I turned to face him he was right next to me. I mean right next to me, with barely air between us. At that moment I could see everything about him: the height, only a hair less than my own; the thin, red lips; the perfect white teeth; the creamy, smooth skin; the simple, small nose; and those deep, brown eyes. I was literally transfixed as we looked into each others' eyes, and I swear that I have never felt so irresistibly compelled to kisss someone in my life. I didn't, though.

I defintely felt something from all of that, but I had no clear idea of what he was feeling at all. The intelligent thing to do would have been to talk to him, but his partner was already out the door and ready to go, and he, being 'the new guy', was obligated to go. And the moment was broken and he was on his way with merely a "Thank you" from me. That should have probably been it, but I can't stop myself from thinking about him, and he's syuck in my mind all day, something that doesn't happen to me very often. He's a pleasant memory, to be sure, but he feels like a missed opportunity, too. By and large the whole incident is probably just the result of me feeling lonely and needy, but that doesn't diminish what I felt. Maybe, if I'm lucky, he'll be out again to do work on our furnace. Maybe, but I don't suppose I should hold my breath.

Posted Written at 12:37 AM

October 27, 2005

A little time has passed, but let's flash back to this past Monday (I said I would write about it after I'd had time to think things over, and now the time has come).

As has been the case a three different times in the past few weeks, I went into the day thinking about how much I was looking forward to things and that I would make it a relaxing, stress-free day. The first lesson to be learned from all of this is that saying that you're going to have a relaxing, stress-free day, even just to yourself, automatically dooms you to have the most frustrating, high -blood-pressure-inspiring comfluence of events possible - or at least that's how it's worked for me. The first time I was "looking forward to my day" was a complete disaster, and I got so angry that I could scream, and then plunged into depression and did all I could to soothe myself with calming music and sleep. The second time my day went awry was the second part of the fiasco known as the Powerbook Saga from Hell, which is still ongoing, and which I will surely describe in detail once it's over (that's assuming that it does actually come to an end at some point). On that day I, fortunately, spent the afternoon with Kristina after dealing with my Powerbook nightmare, and spending time with her calmed me and relaxed me and made the day quite worthwhile (even though I still was aggravated about my Powerbook problems). The third, and most recent, "day of rest" was to have been Monday, but the day was instead a rollercoater of emotions, which was far from relaxing, even if it ended up being probably a cathartic and necessary day.

Rather than doing anything else, my plan had been to head to Toledo after dropping my grandma off at the YMCA (for her aqua-robics class followed by lunch with her friends from the class, who would take her home). Among other things I wanted to do in Toledo was to just look around and check some things out. First among those was to see what the progress has been on the Glass Pavillion that is the new building the Toledo Museukm of Art is making to house its glass exhibit. I'll admit that there's more substance to things since the last time I was there (considering the last time all that was there was a huge hole in the ground), but I was disappointed to find a structure covered with ugly translucent fiberglass panels and looking quite frumpy. Since the whole structure is to be made of glass, it makes sense that they wouldn't put the glass panels up until just about last, as the frame and wiring and stuff is installed, and I understand the need to keep the thing enclosed. It was just that it was ... well, ugly ... and I was hoping for something more notable. It wasn't a big deaql, and alone I wouldn't have thought any more about it, but I found as I drove that there were a number of changes in Toledo as far as buildings being replaced or refurbished or in other areas where buidlings were altogether abandoned, and almost invariably the new and clean buildings were in the highly wealthy areas while the derelicty buildings and increasingly abandoned neighborhoods were poorer, or in some cases middle class. The visible disparity in things makes very clear what has been cropping up socially and politically in Toledo - there is a class war going on, and the very rich are winning at the expense of everyone else. That was very disappointing and even depressing, buyt again I would say that on its own I wouldn't have put too much more thought into it, considering a solution is beyond my means.

My first actual stop in Toledo was at Abacus II computers and the Mac Cafe, where I wanted to get my other Powerbook repaired. This is, as you migt epect, yet a further episode in the Crippling Saga of the Powerbook which is still ongoing and which will be detailed later. Neddless to say, I left Abacus II disappointe dand frustrated, and one of the things that I expected to be simplicity itself, and part of a relaxed day, was far from anything of the sort.

Not to be bothered by the Powerbook issue, I headed out for some window shopping. I hit a few places, spending a lot of time in Target and Media Play (actually a lot of time in Media Play), and I found one thing after another that I thought were neat or cool or kick-ass. A lot of the prices were good, too. Having no money, though, all I could do was look and make a mental checklist of things I might like to have to read or watch or use someday. That was, as time progressed, increasingly depressing as I realized that my life as it stands, stuck in college with a negligible income while I care for my grandma, allows me to buy nothing that isn't absolutely essential, and while I can usually not be disturbed by that fact, on Monday it bothered me.

So it was that I wandered around Toledo looking at the changes in the city and occasionally stopping somewhere else to window shop. I only did that for a few hours, but I covered most of Toledo. By the time I was ready to head to meet Steve and Mark and Steffen for a night of gaming I had seen pretty much all there was to see, and I was more than ready to have any ditraction that would change my line of though away from thinking of all that I was missing.

As it turned out, the guys and I had a good game and had a lot of free-flowing and enjoyable conversation. Theere was a point, however, where talk turned to the issue of my being gay, and with that came a bunch of memories that I purposefully avoid for the most part because they hurt. I've learned, though, that I think it may be beneficial to face those ugly memories more often as a way to diminish their power in my mind.

It all started with a casual mention of Steve's attitude toward Wallace, and how, although Steve used to consider Wallace his closest friend, Steve won't any longer have anything to do with Wallace. While my feelings toward Wallace are not as strong, I think, as Steve's, I feel similarly after pretty much being avoided by Wallace for years. I added in my two cents, going into a bit more detail by mentioning how the realization had hit me a while ago that Wallace made sure he was never alone with me once he knew that I was gay. Steffen was surprised at that, and I explained how an old co-worker of mine, Sam, had outed me to my friends after I moved to Indiana, unbeknownst to me. Wallace quickly shut himself off from me, and he refused to do anything with me for two years. Our mutual friend at the time, Shannon, was able to engineer a reconciliation, having known that I'd missed Wallace in my life, and we agreed to try to renew our friendship.

I went on to explain to Steve, Mark, and Steffen that the first get-together Wallace and I had was a trip to Ann Arbor with three of the SAGES (the SAGES are a gaming group that Wallace co-founded and, because of Steve and Mark's preference, the SAGES offices in central Toledo are where we often meet to game, seeing as Mark's house isn't considered an option). During my trip to Ann Arbor, all three of the SAGES, clearly informed by Wallace that I was gay, taunted, teased, and ridiculed me constantly and mercilessly in the most homophobic ways possible. Wallace chuckled along with them but said nothing himself. I, on the other hand, remained silent, chagrinned at the treatment but quite sure that I had to tolerate such treatment if I wanted Wallace back in my life as a friend. I was so desperate to regain Wallace's friendship because he had been such a close friend to me, that I allowed myself to be demeaned and abused, and I hate every second of those memories. Steffen, when I was recounting this, told me he couldn't believe that it had happened like that simply because he was sure, based on the way I am now, that I would have responded vociferously and angrilly at all of them. He's right that I would have responded that way now as well. In fatc I would have told Wallace to go fuck himself for putting me in that position and not even trying to defend me or get his friends to tone down their rhetoric. I wasn't the same person then, though, and I was much more desperate for my friends to accept me as being gay. I also was, I hate to admit, probably a good bit more cowardly then than I am now, and I just took what they gave out quietly, probably just the way they expected a fag to behave.

When I wass explaining all of this to Steffen I was filled with the painful emotions of it all as the memories cameback to me with crystal clarity, and when he said he couldn't believe I'd allow that to happen I explained that I just wasn't up to fighting back. I said that it was because I was still tired from my breakdown, but that wasn't true. In fact the trip to Ann Arbor was about three years before my breakdown. I wasn't really thinking about the order of events or the accuracy of details as I was responding to Steffen, though, because I was awash in the anguish of those memories. I was weak on that trip to Ann Arbor, but it was not due to my breakdown. it was due to stupidity on my part, thinking that I could win back Wallace's friendship by enduring the abuse of his friends. It's a tribute to my idiocy that I even thought Wallace could be a friend under such circumstances.

Right or wrong, I had told Steffen that my breakdown had left me a different person, a hollow shell of a person with no strength to even speak to friendly conversation let alone personal attacks. All of that was indeed true, and Mark and Steve confirmed that I was indeed a different person after my breakdown, and they talked about how I'd behaved. Steve, to his credit, apologized for not realizing what I'd been going through at that time, and Mark, to his credit as well, told me that he had realized I was going through something very rough and went on to say that he had told our circle of friends exactly that, even though they were much more determined to criticize and condemn me for being "an ass" and "bringing them down". I was happy, in a way, to know that I still had Mark and Steve close to me as friends, and while I miss the friendship I had with all of the others, I see quite clearly now that I really lost nothing by losing contact with people who clearly had no concern or compassion for a friend who was clearly suffering.

Wrapping up my explanation to Steffen, I explained how I'd come to realize that Wallace, after reconciling with me, never allowed himself to be alone with me. If I called to ask him to go to a movie, he'd say "sure, I'll call Jeff and see if he wants to come." If I'd ask him if he wanted to hit an arcade he'd find an excuse not to go. If I called to see if we could do lunch, he'd show up with someone. He made sure he was never alone with me, and it took me a while to realizew, but it was because he was afraid of being alone with a gay guy. Steffen was surprised and apologized to me for an off-hand comment he'd made a month or so earlier, when he told Mark to "Stop being gay!" when Mark was rubbing Steffen's leg with his foot, under the table. Steffen later realizede what he'd said and called Mark to ask him if he should apologize to me for what he's said. I had thought nothing of it and told him so, and made clear he had nothing to apologize for.

Mark then mentioned that he'd talked to his daughter, Lyndsay, after a day of gaming we'd had where she'd said that this guy she knew was "just being gay", in the way that kids tend to say "That's so gay" these days as a denouncement for anything. At the time I recall telling her simply that she should watch who she was insulting and she said, "I'm sorry," although I didn't think she had really grasped what I was saying. Mark apparently, unbeknwonst to me, talked to her about that later and tried to explain to her that saying something is "gay" is demeaning to gay people. She apparently claimed that that wasn't what she had meant - and I wholeheartedly believe she meant nothing derrogatory to gay people by it - but Mark made sure that she saw how it was a dis to gay people, no matter what you'd meant. I was amazed to know that Steffen and Mark were so concerned about my feelings in regards to such things and that they were so supportive and tolerant. It's not that I expected them to be negative or be homophobic, but I never expected them to be so very, very supportive. It was very refreshing and uplifting.

As uplifting as Steve, Mark, and Steffen's support was, the pain and sadness from all of those memories took their toll on me. I was really mixed up with happy and sad and angry and hurt and frustrated emotions, and my mind simply was running through memories over and over, replaying old events and old feelings and playing through the night's conversations with the guys as well, over and over and over again. By the time I got back to Sandusky I was just a jumble of images and ideas, and I needed time to sort it all out. The old memories were tough to go back to, but I realized that I need to revisit those memories more often if I'm ever to live with them and live with the things they symbolize, namely the loss of a number of people I used to consider my closest friends. Burying those memories and emotions won't make any of that go away or get better, and facing them may just make them a little easier. Maybe I can even learn a little something in the process.

The one thing I have clearly learned from all of this is to realize that I am a very different person than I ever was before. I've spent a lot of time telling myself that I haven't changed much in my whole life, that my ideals and my views and my interests have stayed very constant throughout my life, even more than most poeople I know. That's true, really, up to a point. But the griity truth is that I am a very different person now than I ever was. In fact I think I could lay out a timeline of different people I've embodied in my life. As a very young child I was happy, energetic, loving, and trusting of any and everyone. That lasted until I was five, and then it was gone. The next person I was developed throughout my childhood but was invariably introverted and scared, quiet at times and an outsider, but able to open uip and talk non-stop to those I felt I could trust. In college I changed again, freed of the abuse of my parents and the cliques of high school. I opened up and explored life and people, never really became exrtroverted but much less isolated, and gained a lot of self-confidence and determination as I moved to make my life better and better. I was pretty much that person constantly until I had my breakdown, and with the breakdown I died inside and became completely introverted and shattered. I trusted absolutely noone under any circumstances, and I saw no hope or help anywhere, and I was deeply in mourning both for Ken and for the life I had always though I could have. It took me better than a year to really pull myself out of that existence. Heck, I'm still pulling myself out of that darkness. But now I am indeed a different person than I have ever been before. I am more open and loud and unapolagetic, even though I am still extremely introverted and untrusting, and I am more set in my views even though I am less self-confident and less sure of what to do with my life. I am probably the least understandable and most confused of all of the different people I have been, and it's important that I realize that I am different now than I have ever been. I've refused to accept that for a long time, but I can't deny it any longer, and facing that - realizing that I've changed - may help me understand myself and fidn a sense of purpose once again.

Posted Written at 2:29 AM

October 26, 2005

I have to wonder if I'm Radioactive Man or Fallout Boy (for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, that's a reference to the characters in Bart Simpson's favorite comic book (best obscure Simpson's reference - ever!)).

Now to make sense of that last paragraph.

When I was growing up I lived in Perkins township, outside of Sandusky, Ohio (where I'm now living). My house was a ranch-style withj an attached garage centered on one half of an acre lot with lots of space from the house to the street and lots of space to the back of the lot. The back of the lot was fenced off by high chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top, a fence that went for miles in either direction as the perimeter for NASA's Plum Brook research facility. Just past the fence and a 20 foot swath of grass was a perimeter road, and past another 20 feet of grass loomed a veritible forest of tall pines and desiduous trees which blocked any obtrusive viewing of what NASA was up to. Even with the significant barriers on the perimeter, certain things could regularly be seen or heard.

Growing up in the '70s there was constant evidence of how much research was going on at NASA. During the late 60's and early '70s NASA used this site to test rocket engines for the Saturn V and Atlas series rockets. NASA would run prolonged burns on the rocket assemblies, and the entire area would shake and rumble, never quite in the full scope of an earthquake, but never anything you would miss. NASA also performed tests on aerodynamic designs for planes and reentry craft, often using remote control planes in the appropriate designs to do tests outside of the wind chambers in the labs. During the late '70s and early '80s I would often see remote control planes buzzing above the tree-line and back into the NASA base. Also during the early '80s, unobscured by the trees (although not directly behind my house), large scale wind turbines, modern-style windmills, could be seen in operation, surely to some extent for research but also likely for use as a partial power source for the needs of the base.

The wind turbines were not the first experimental on-base power source at this NASA site. During the late '50s a small nuclear power core was built at the Plum Brook station, a very early version of the kinds of nuclear power plants that would be developed in the '70s acrosss the U.S. This nuclear core was used from '61 to '73 as a power source for the base, and in '73 it was shut down but left idle, not in any way dismantled but not actively producing fission. It wasn't until 2002, in fact, that the core was dismantled and cleaned up. The reason for the cleanup, which the following article fails to mention, was that in the late '90s NASA reported that low levels of radiation had been leaking from the core for decades because of shielding that was not designed to proper modern standards. This wasn't any sort of leak of hazardous nuclear material, but it was still a reported leak of radiation. NASA assured the public that there was no danger to people in the area, but the locals called for the removal and cleanup of the core - if for no other reason than to simply put people at ease.

Now, however, it appears that at some point the core actually did start to leak hazardous radiaoactive material as well, dispersing a couple types of radioactive isotopes into Plum Brook, the stream that runs through the NASA base and which was the source for coolant water for the nuclear core. In fact NASA even admits that it discharged radioactive waste into this stream during the time of the core's operation. So this stream is littered with radioactive isotopes, not, NASA claims, anything alarmingly dangerous, just more radioactive than what is usually considered safe. Great.

As it so happens, some of my best memories of childhood were riding my bike a couple of miles away from my house and playing in and around "the crik", the local name we gave to the creek that went through our area. This, of course, was what is formally known as Plum Brook, and this, of course, is where there were and are radioactive isotopes. For years I went to that "crik", wading barefoot in its shallow waters, catching crawfish, chasing tiny fish, playing with frogs, stirring up stones and stuff, even crawling around in the large drainage pipes that allowed the "crik" to flow underneath the roadway above. I played in the waters, lay back and half-slept lazy afternoons on its banks, and played around with my friend Chris over innumerable days of simple fun (my poem Sanctuary was written about that place and those memories). For me that setting is still in some ways the center of the happiest times of my childhood because while I was there I was free, safe from my parents and the unpleasant homelife I suffered, surrounded by nature, and truly at peace with myself and my surroundings. The news that I was playing in a radioactive drainage ditch strangely doesn't change or diminish the value I've placed upon those old memories, and I can't say that I'm even particularly upset by the news. Those memories are still cherished and always will be, and if I suffered any negative effects from the radiation then that's just the way it is - I've certainly had enough bad things happen to me in my life that suffering negative effects from radiation wouldn't be high on my list of most negatively life-affecting situations.

I do have to admit that the news is bothersome, not because of my personal history at Plum Brook but because of the irresponsible handling of that facility by NASA over the almost fifty years since it was first created. I expect much better from NASA, and I am distinctly disappointed that they didn't resolve this whole situation much sooner. I can only hope that they are being much safer now, as they create other experiments.

Plum Brook puzzle

The discovery of radioactive contamination in a tiny Lake Erie tributary in Sandusky is definitely cause for concern but probably not alarm.

But to make sure that a one-mile stretch of Plum Brook, between Pentolite Ditch and Bogart Road, is not an imminent public health threat, a thorough investigation of the radioactive sediment found near the old NASA Plum Brook nuclear test reactor is essential.

NASA officials rushed to reassure the public that the radiation levels found were barely above those that people encounter daily from natural sources and, in all likelihood, pose no serious hazards to humans or the environment.

The creek sediment tested near the NASA gate at Pentolite Ditch contained isotopes of radioactive Cesium 137 that are reportedly barely above natural background levels. There were also microscopic traces of radioactive Cobalt 60.

NASA attributes the contamination to the reactor that operated between 1961 and 1973 and was mothballed until the government agency began dismantling it in March, 2002. For years, rumors have circulated in the surrounding communities that the fenced-off Plum Brook reactor held secrets of radioactive contamination.

Now the acting project manager of the site's decommission effort reveals that nearby, one of the smallest tributaries flowing into Lake Erie has been radioactive for at least 32 years.

Keith Peecook, a senior NASA engineer, says the facility stopped discharging radioactive waste into Pentolite Ditch, which flows into Plum Brook, over 30 years ago when the reactor was shut down, but it's likely a pinpoint leak was never detected.

Plum Brook flows into Sandusky Bay and while none of the lake water has radioactive material beyond permitted levels, it doesn't mean the material is never stirred up. A spokesman for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission said "obviously there has been some movement over the years."

Still, both the NRC and the Ohio Department of Health concur with NASA that the public health threat from the Plum Brook discovery is negligible. The state agency is not even sure the level of detected contamination spreading off-site is worth posting public warning signs.

Both the state and NASA have agreed to conduct separate tests of the contaminated creek and compare results which may or may not necessitate a cleanup operation by NASA. U.S. Rep. Marcy Kaptur may be premature in suggesting a personal visit to the site by NASA Administrator Michael Griffin and NRC Chairman Nils Diaz.

But Ms. Kaptur, whose district also includes the troubled-plagued Davis-Besse nuclear reactor, is right to demand answers and regular public updates about what is no doubt an unsettling discovery to many living near the 6,000-acre reactor site in Erie County.

After the scare in Ottawa County, only official assurances based on ironclad evidence will suffice.

Posted Written at 2:38 AM

October 25, 2005

Ack!! Rubber baby buggy bumpers!

Posted at 10:00 PM

October 24, 2005

Today I feel very exposed and vulnerable, my past revealed to friends new and old and unpleasant memories brought back vividly to my recollection. Strangely enough, I think that may be a good thing. Good or not, though, I'm still sorting through all of it in my mind, replaying events and conversations, thinking through the reactions of those around me as I told them and thinking as well of my own reactions. I will be delving deeper into this, both on my own and in this Journal, but for right now I just need to finish making sense of it all in my brain, so today I will stop here on this subject.

That will not end this Journal entry, however. Reading the news very late as I am (or very early, depending upon your perspective, considering it's almost 3 AM), I read the recent announcment (12:30 AM) that Rosa Parks has died at age 92. I am saddened that she is gone, because even at 92 she was a champion of equal rights, speaking openly and plainly for all to hear, never backing down to anyone. Her strength and her spirit will be sorely missed.

Rosa Parks believed in equality for all, even though her struggle for equal rights began by standing up against laws that discriminated against blacks (actually she sat down, rather than stand up, but you know what I mean). I don't think that Rosa Parks was a visionary, as Dr. King would be, looking toward the future of America's peoples - she was just a tired woman who had had enough and refused to give up her rights and her dignity. She was and always will be, in my mind, one classy lady. Rest well, Rosa Parks. And thank you.

Civil rights icon Rosa Parks dies at 92
Long known as the 'mother of the civil rights movement'

(CNN) -- Rosa Parks, whose act of civil disobedience in 1955 inspired the modern civil rights movement, died Monday in Detroit, Michigan. She was 92.

Parks' moment in history began in December 1955 when she refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white man in Montgomery, Alabama.

Her arrest triggered a 381-day boycott of the bus system by blacks that was organized by a 26-year-old Baptist minister, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. (See video on an activist's life and times -- 2:52)

The boycott led to a court ruling desegregating public transportation in Montgomery, but it wasn't until the 1964 Civil Rights Act that all public accommodations nationwide were desegregated.

Facing regular threats and having lost her department store job because of her activism, Parks moved from Alabama to Detroit in 1957. She later joined the staff of U.S. Rep. John Conyers, a Michigan Democrat.

Conyers, who first met Parks during the early days of the civil rights struggle, recalled Monday that she worked on his original congressional staff when he first was elected to the House of Representatives in 1964.

"I think that she, as the mother of the new civil rights movement, has left an impact not just on the nation, but on the world," he told CNN in a telephone interview. "She was a real apostle of the nonviolence movement."

He remembered her as someone who never raised her voice -- an eloquent voice of the civil rights movement.

"You treated her with deference because she was so quiet, so serene -- just a very special person," he said, adding that "there was only one" Rosa Parks.

Gregory Reed, a longtime friend and attorney, said Parks died between 7 p.m. and 8 p.m. of natural causes. He called Parks "a lady of great courage."

Parks co-founded the Rosa and Raymond Parks Institute for Self Development to help young people pursue educational opportunities, get them registered to vote and work toward racial peace.

"As long as there is unemployment, war, crime and all things that go to the infliction of man's inhumanity to man, regardless -- there is much to be done, and people need to work together," she once said.

Even into her 80s, she was active on the lecture circuit, speaking at civil rights groups and accepting awards, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1996 and the Congressional Gold Medal in 1999.

"This medal is encouragement for all of us to continue until all have rights," she said at the June 1999 ceremony for the latter medal.

Parks was the subject of the documentary "Mighty Times: The Legacy of Rosa Parks," which received a 2002 Oscar nomination for best documentary short.

In April, Parks and rap duo OutKast settled a lawsuit over the use of her name on a CD released in 1998. (Full story)

Bus boycott

She was born Rosa Louise McCauley in Tuskegee, Alabama, on February 4, 1913. Her marriage to Raymond Parks lasted from 1932 until his death in 1977.

Parks' father, James McCauley, was a carpenter, and her mother, Leona Edwards McCauley, a teacher.

Before her arrest in 1955, Parks was active in the voter registration movement and with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, where she also worked as a secretary in 1943.

At the time of her arrest, Parks was 42 and on her way home from work as a seamstress.

She took a seat in the front of the black section of a city bus in Montgomery. The bus filled up and the bus driver demanded that she move so a white male passenger could have her seat.

"The driver wanted us to stand up, the four of us. We didn't move at the beginning, but he says, 'Let me have these seats.' And the other three people moved, but I didn't," she once said.

When Parks refused to give up her seat, a police officer arrested her.

As the officer took her away, she recalled that she asked, "Why do you push us around?"

The officer's response: "I don't know, but the law's the law, and you're under arrest."

She added, "I only knew that, as I was being arrested, that it was the very last time that I would ever ride in humiliation of this kind."

Four days later, Parks was convicted of disorderly conduct and fined $14.

That same day, a group of blacks founded the Montgomery Improvement Association and named King, the young pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, as its leader, and the bus boycott began.

For the next 381 days, blacks -- who according to Time magazine had comprised two-thirds of Montgomery bus riders -- boycotted public transportation to protest Parks' arrest and in turn the city's Jim Crow segregation laws.

Black people walked, rode taxis and used carpools in an effort that severely damaged the transit company's finances.

The mass movement marked one of the largest and most successful challenges of segregation and helped catapult King to the forefront of the civil rights movement.

The boycott ended on November 13, 1956, after the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a lower court ruling that Montgomery's segregated bus service was unconstitutional.

Parks' act of defiance came one year after the Supreme Court's Brown v. Board of Education decision that led to the end of racial segregation in public schools. (Full story)

U.S. Rep. John Lewis of Georgia, a Democrat, told CNN Monday he watched the 1955-56 Montgomery drama unfold as a teenager and it inspired him to get active in the civil rights movement.

"It was so unbelievable that this woman -- this one woman -- had the courage to take a seat and refuse to get up and give it up to a white gentleman. By sitting down, she was standing up for all Americans," he said.

Posted Written at 3:13 AM

October 23, 2005

Ah, the joys of heartburn again. I thought I would die only a couple hours ago, but it has passed (thanks to the passsage of a very long hour and a half and plenty of Maalox). That makes twice in three days, the first time being Friday night and now today as well. The only similar factor between the two days was that I had a large glass of orange juice each of those mornings after not having had OJ for a couple of months. I've never had a problem before from drinking OJ, and I've had periods where I've had a glass or more a day for weeks. Maybe it's just a combination of things in my diet that have made the OJ be a problem now for some reason, but believe me when I say I won't be having OJ again soon (and hopefully it was the OJ, otherwise I haven't a clue what the cause was).

As a side note: I have to wonder if this is the ultimate fate of my online Journal, to be the complaints of an aging man about his health problems. If that's even possibly the case, please kill me now - if not for my sake then for your own future sanity.

Posted at 11:05 PM

October 22, 2005

Today was a pretty good day.

It didn't start out that way exactly. I had clear plans of what I was going to do today, and while I wanted to make the whole day relaxing, there was no way around getting up at 8 AM. Sleeping in would have been nice, but I had places to go and people to see and things to do, and getting up even as late as 8:30 would have been cutting things pretty close ... and I was right to be concerned about my timing. As it turned out, getting myself cleaned up and together didn't take too long, but taking care of my grandma took a bot longer than expected. Still, I wasn't too late getting out of the house. If it hadn't been for the weather, I would even have arrived at my destination east of Cleveland a bit early. Alas, the light but continuous rain, while nothing of concern to me in itself, made every Cleveland driver act as though it was snowing heavily, and the pace of traffic was very slow, with everyone tapping on their brakes far too regularly. Fortunately the drive was pretty, with lots of beautifully multi-colored leaves on the tress as fall comes upon us. That scenery made things quite nice and relaxing, so I was compensated for being surrounded by idiot drivers.

When I finally made it to Legacy Village, my destination, I noticed that the time was exactly what I'd hoped for, almost exactly a quarter to Noon. I parked, gathered my stuff, and headed to the Apple Store. Herein begins a tale of strangeness and frustration that I will save for another day, if for no other reason than it is something that has spread over ,multiple days of involvement and also because it is an ongoing story. So later, probably around the end of this week, look for the Unparalleled Saga of the Titanium Powerbook and its Quest for the Holy Grail.

In the midst of the aforementtioned Saga, my friend Kristina arrived, meeting me at the Apple Store as planned. We chatted briefly during my struggle with the Powerfbook, and soon after made our way outside, where it was still continuously raining, and walked under my umbrella to the Claddaugh Irish Pub, where we'd planned to lunch together. Kristina has been to Claddaugh before and was looking forward to returning. I, on the other hand, had never before been to this restaurant chain, but I had heard of it some months ago since it was one of the new shops located in the expansion section of Toledo's Franklin Park Mall. As it turns out, Claddaugh is charming in it's Irish atmosphere (although the background music was a little trite and not terribly authentic), and the food was simply fabulous. We started with a Spinach and Artichoke dip with bread for dipping, and while I've had many dips of this type, this particular recipe was possibly the best version I've ever had. My actual lunch was even better - an Irish Monte Cristo, prepared so perfectly that it was like a taste of the heavens. Oh, damn! it was good! I haven't had a Monte Cristo in years (largely since nobody makes them any more, but also because the rare times I could have one they are clearly going to be grossly improperly prepared. So the whole meal was an absolute treat, I have to say. It was the best meal I've had in many months, by any comparison.

As a further plus, the meal was accompanied by very pleasant conversation. Kristina and I haven't seen each other for almost a year, it seems, and while we keep in touch, we keep in touch sporadically, sending an e.amil now and then or making the occasional phone call. As a result of that our initial starts at talking were sort of awkward, but as we loosened up a bit we got to talking much more easily and openly. We caught each other up on our lives and families and work, our frustrations and the happy parts of our lives. Kristina is always very interesting and intelligent, and I always enjoy talking to her, so I had a great time.

After lunch, with both of us feeling quite pleasantly stuffed, we took a walk around the "village", still sharing the umbrella as the rain continued unabated. There are a lot of nice stores in Leagcy Village, although I remarked to Kristina, and rightly so, that the who thing is photograph of conspicuous consumption. We had a fun time looking through Joseph Beth Booksellers, pointing out different authors and books, and had fun checking out the items in Crate and Barrel and giving our opinions reagrding what was and was not attractive. Once we started wandering around from store to store, time really flew by, and soon enough we found ourselves having to say goodbye. Kristina had plans to attend two different Halloween costume parties (the lucky girl!), and she needed to leave to get herslelf together. In many ways it seemed like time just flew right by, but it was a great visit even so. I enjoyed myself and was glad to see Kristina after such a long, time, and it was honestly just nice to get out and do something different.

I drove back to Sandusky still in fairly continuous light rain, but the other drivers didn't bother me nearly as much, and I enjoyed the hour and a half trip back to Sandusky quite a bit. The rest of the day has been fairly boring and not worth mentioning, but mmy lunch date more than made up for it. Hopefully I won't go as long before I see Kristina again, but today has certainly made up for not having seen her in so long.

Posted Written at 2:13 AM

October 21, 2005

Damn my life is boring. The most interesting part of my day was taking my grandmother to visit an old friend who's recovering at home from multiple surgeries. It's not like she's just my grandma's friend - I know Le Ella as well, and we were/are related since her son was my second cousin's first husband ... so I've known her most of my life. Anyhow, the visit was nice, and I think we brought some brightness to Le Ella's day, but talking about her medical problems and my grandma's medical problems and my mom's medical problems (and very little else) was surely not anything that anyone reading this website will find to be fascinating to read about. I ran a bunch of other errands with and for my grandma earlier in the day and did a number of things around the house, too, but all of that was even less interesting (even to me) than our get well visit.

I've been wracking my brains for something interesting to write tonight, and my mind is coming up blank. The fact that I've got some sort of upset stomach thing going on for the past six hours or so isn't helping things, honestly, and I'm really just hoping to manage to go to sleeep soon and hopefully wake up without this damn discomfort. Tomorrow, at least as it's planned, should prove to be much more interesting - hopefully even fun. I'll let you know for sure how that turns out.

Posted at 11:34 PM

October 20, 2005

A penguin is driving down the road when his car starts to give him all kinds of trouble...the engine sputters, steam pours out of his hood and there's fluids pouring out on the road. He pulls into a garage and the mechanic tells him it'll be at least a half-hour until he can even tell him what the problem is.

The penguin walks around, has a cup of coffee and then comes across an ice cream shop where he orders a double vanilla cone, getting it all over his face. He goes back to the garage and asks the mechanic if he's found the problem.

The mechanic looks up and tells him 'Looks like you've blown a seal.'

The penguin says 'No! Honest, I just had an ice cream cone!'

Posted at 11:08 PM

October 19, 2005

Do you suppose it's a coincidence that the microphones reporters stick in people's faces are shaped like penises? I think not.

Posted at 10:49 PM

October 18, 2005

Ths blog, Spun and Spinning, reveals the truths that this whole country should realize. As this most recent entry points out, the Republicans are masters of spin, diversion, and obfuscation, and therefore the American public should be suspiciosu of every word any Republican every attempts to utter. We can only hope that more people see the reality of all of this and fight back - if in no other way than by casting an informed vote.

The Illusion of Normality
by Ernest Partridge, The Crisis Papers

Never in the 229 years of United States history has this government "of, by and for the people" been in greater peril. Not during the Civil War, not during the great depression, and not during the Second World War or the Cold War which followed.

Until today, gross incompetence, abuse of power, corruption, corporatocracy, and federal insolvency could be checked and reversed by balanced and separated governmental powers, and at the ballot box by a citizenry informed and provoked by an alert and independent media. Now all branches of government and the mainstream media are dominated by the wealthy elites in control of a single political party.

Can you believe this? If not, you are in the company of a majority of Americans who might respond to the above jeremiad with "Oh c'mon now, it can't be as bad as all that! We've always had incompetence, corruption, waste, fraud and abuse in the federal government, and stolen elections are as old as the republic. It's no different now."

So long as that majority of Americans believes this, the rule of the Busheviks and its successor oligarch regimes will be secure. Thus Bush, Inc. and its obedient mainstream media are desperately endeavoring to nourish and sustain this "illusion of normality."

The illusion has many facets.

Elections? Get over it!

The refusal of the public to believe that national elections can be stolen validates the claim of the Bush Administration and the Republican Congress to political legitimacy – that they "derive their just powers from the consent of the governed" (Declaration of Independence). The evidence clearly indicates otherwise. (For an excellent summation of this evidence, see Dennis Loo's "No Paper Trail Left Behind." See also The Crisis Papers pages on "Election Fraud, 2004" and "Electoral Integrity.")

On the other hand, the evidence for the legitimacy of the elections is virtually non-existent, due to the secrecy of the software and the absence of paper validation. So all that the defenders of the legitimacy illusion have is ad hominem insults of the challengers – "conspiracy theorists," "paranoid," "get over it!"

The mainstream media's response is no response, with the apparent hope and expectation, so far successful, that if it is ignored the ballot fraud issue will go away. The primary aggrieved institutional victim of the fraud, the Democratic Party, simply won't touch the issue, which can only serve to strengthen "the illusion of normality." Thus allegations that the elections were stolen and thus that the government in power is illegitimate are confined to the alternative media and the Internet.

And so the Democrats carry on as if the upcoming elections of 2006 and 2008 are "normal," as they diligently solicit more votes and cheerfully look forward to taking back the Congress in 2006 and the White House in 2008 – as if the same "normal" rules and conditions apply as they have before. Those poor, naive saps! Don't they realize that once again, Republican operatives will count the votes? And that the results will be just what the GOP wants them to be, regardless of the wishes of the electorate? Unless, very soon, the people demand reform and restore the integrity of the ballot box.

The media are biased in favor of liberals.

The right-wing talk-merchants who, until Air American Radio came along had the AM dial pretty much to themselves, complain constantly that the mainstream media has a left-wing, anti-Bush bias. So too the cable news chatterers. Much of the public believes this myth because it is repeated so often – not, to be sure, on the strength of the evidence which clearly proves otherwise.

Two brief examples: in October, 2004, immediately before the presidential election, the University of Maryland's Program on International Policy Attitudes (PIPA) released a report that among Bush supporters, 75% believed that Saddam Hussein's Iraq government supported al Qaeda, and 72% believed that Iraq either had weapons of mass destruction, or active WMD programs. In addition, the Bush supporters said that the US should not go to war if it were known that Iraq had no WMDs.

Which means, to put it bluntly, that Bush owes his election to this WMD lie (among other lies, but those require separate arguments). Now where did the Bush voters get this misinformation if not from the mainstream media, which obviously passed it on uncritically from the Bush administration?

Example two: On CNN's "Crossfire, Paul Begala reported the following results of a Nexis-Lexis Search:

"There were exactly 704 stories in the [2000] campaign about this flap of Gore inventing the Internet. There were only 13 stories about Bush failing to show up for his National Guard duty for a year. There were well over 1,000 stories - Nexus stopped at 1,000 - about Gore and the Buddhist temple. Only 12 about Bush being accused of insider trading at Harken Energy. There were 347 about Al Gore wearing earth tones, but only 10 about the fact that Dick Cheney did business with Iran and Iraq and Libya."

The advantage of the myth of the liberal media to Bush and the Republicans is enormous. To those who believe it, if a story favorable to Bush and the GOP appears, the response is "it must be true, since even the liberal media reports it." And critical stories? "Don't believe it, it's just the liberal media dissing our President again." Conversely for stories about the Democrats and progressives. (For more about right-wing and pro-Bush media bias, visit the website of FAIR).

Torture? It was just a few bad apples.

Few Americans appreciate the depths of moral depravity that are are plumbed by this administration's justification of the use of torture of prisoners captured in this "war on terror," and by its official violation of the Geneva accords – ratified treaties that have the status of US laws. Nor are many of our fellow citizens aware of the disgust and hatred of our country's government engendered throughout the world as a result of these policies.

And why not? The mainstream media do not accurately report the tortures, assess the treaty violations, or inform the public of international opinion. Attorney General Gonzales has effectively "abolished" torture by defining it out of existence, yet the tortures still go on. The Geneva conventions are evaded by the invention of a category of prisoners, "enemy combatants," that is unrecognized by international law. In effect, the government of the United States of America, our country, is an international outlaw.

The Busheviks do not care. And sadly, the American people, by and large, do not know. They believe that our treatment of prisoners is justified, and that the opinions of us abroad are "normal."

It is an illusion.

The president, his cabinet, and the Congress will not, as they have all sworn, "protect and defend the Constitution." In fact, American citizens are now being held indefinitely, without charge, without counsel, without trial, in violation of four of the Ten Amendments to the Constitution (The Bill of Rights). The president claims the right to designate any American citizen as a "terrorist suspect" and to arrest and confine that citizen in similar violation of law and the Constitution.

The same Constitution stipulates that Congress declares war, yet this "war on terrorism" is undeclared. This is but one of many clear violations of law by the Bush Administration (enumerated in my "The Bombs in the Basement"). The conventional attitude that "they all do it" just doesn't begin to excuse the unprecedented lawlessness of this regime.

The policies of this administration are based on "sound science."

The term "sound science" and its antithesis, "junk science," are inventions of that semantic genius of the GOP, Frank Luntz. So too those Orwellian names, "Healthy Forests," "Clear Skies Initiative," and "The Death Tax."

The conclusion of more than 2,000 world scientists concerning global warming? "Junk science." So too the warnings of geologists that the world is approaching peak oil production. Industry sponsored reassurances that mercury emissions from coal-fired plants are not harmful? "Sound Science." The fact that virtually all peer-reviewed scientific studies disagree seems not to matter.

For every Ph.D there is an equal and opposite Ph.D – if the price is right. The public believes the "news" it is given, and does not pay attention to the American Association for the Advancement of Science, the National Science Foundation, the National Academy of Sciences, or other professional scientific journals and associations. Nor is the public much concerned with the fact that this administration's "war against science" is costing us our long-established lead in scientific research and development – a foundation of our economic prosperity.

And the list continues: record federal deficits, a widening income gap between the very rich and the rest of us, corruption – personal enrichment at public expense, corporate purchasing of legislation and regulatory relief through campaign contributions.

Massive. Unconstrained. Unprecedented. Unbelievable. And so most of the public is unwilling and unable to believe it.

Add to this the enormous stake that the Administration, the Republican Party, and their corporate patrons have in perpetuating this "illusion of normality." Billions of dollars of public funds have been snatched from the federal treasury and billions more from the investments, retirement funds, health benefits and social services of private individuals. Add to that the deterioration of educational facilities and public infrastructure.

Some of this has been done through the cover of "legitimate" congressional legislation, and some of it through outright criminal activity. Remnants of our criminal justice system are pushing back. Today, David Safavian, Jack Abramoff and even Tom DeLay are under indictment. Soon Patrick Fitzgerald's grand jury will hand down their indictments which, it is likely, will reach into the White House. Hopefully, that will be just the beginning.

In short, the malefactors are facing not only the loss of their ill-gained wealth but perhaps federal prison cells. And don't suppose that they don't know it, and that they are not prepared to take extreme measures to avoid it. The injured and cornered beast is the most dangerous, and these critters have some fearful resources at their disposal.

But they are up against the most formidable and unyielding of adversaries: the truth – an adversary that they have abused and repressed throughout their reign of error. And as they must eventually discover, reality bites. "Truth crushed on earth," wrote William Cullen Bryant, "will rise again," and it will rise, no matter how many millions are poured into the budgets of think tanks or into the pockets of whore-"scientists." "Truth will rise again," if not here, then abroad, and if not now, then eventually.

If we are to restore our democracy, truth must rise again soon and here.

But how?

Foremost among the objectives of the progressive resistance must be to disabuse the public at large of its "illusion of normality." We must attack the widespread but understandable unwillingness of that public to face up to the enormity of the crimes that have been perpetrated upon the body politic.

Fortunately, events are at last coming to the aid of the resistance. A perfect storm is descending upon the White House and Congress: the innocent lives sacrificed to the Iraq disaster, the Katrina catastrophe and the evident inability and unwillingness of the Bush Administration to attend to the business of protecting the public, the aforementioned criminal indictments – present and forthcoming. Looming ahead is a collapse of the economy as the housing bubble bursts, consumer spending crashes because the American consumer maxes out his credit and faces unemployment, and our international creditors decide they've had enough, and decide to invest in other currencies.

Public opinion polls (if we can still trust them) are reporting plummeting approval ratings for the president and the GOP, along with a loss of confidence in the direction that the country is taking, and a loss of credibility of the mainstream media. The "fear factor" is losing its potency. It's beginning to dawn on more and more of our fellows citizens that they have been suckered and lied to, and they don't like it.

Trouble is, they don't at the moment have any place to turn. The opposition party, the Democrats, don't fare much better in the opinion polls than the Republicans, and for good reason. The are dumb-struck, incoherent, and impotent.

The time is right for forceful, inspired and articulated leaders of the opposition to emerge. Where are they? Who are they? Who dares step forward, speak out, and take the lead? What individuals, what organizations, what factions will put aside their differences and unite in common cause?

On these questions, the issue of the restoration of our liberties, our welfare, our republic, will turn.

Posted at 10:46 PM

October 17, 2005

Today I feel very much like Thomas Covenant, and that surely can't be a good thing.

Posted Written at 3:01 AM

October 16, 2005

I am turning into the bitter old man I always feared I might become.

Posted at 9:25 PM

October 15, 2005

I have so many different comments about the big news of the day, the riots in nearby Toledo following the march of America's Nazi Party, that I really don't know where to start or how to connect any of my thoughts, so I'm just going to list things off hodge-podge:

- Life is just surreal sometimes.

- Way to go Toledo Mayor Jack Ford. People get upset about Nazi's marching in Toledo and you decide to blame gang members and veritibly defend the Nazis. Quality.

- By the way, Mayor Ford, if, as you claim, you knew that this is what the Nazis wanted, then why didn't you have more cops on the scene to prevent exactly the civil disorder that occurred? And what, exactly, do you think 50 state troopers and a curfew are going to do when they are put in place hours after the offending incident? People were upset at the time of the march - that's when you should have been acting.

- By the way, Jack, I'm sure that this will do well for you as a photo op for your highly contested reelection campaign. Your opponent, former mayor Finkbeiner, can make as many gaffs as he wants and still not damage his campaign as much as you did to yourself today.

- Tell me how it is that not only most Toledo residents but CNN and other media outlets knew that things would turn ugly (and hence the live coverage of the rioting), yet the mayor and the police didn't know well enough to have more officers in place?

- This incident makes for an interesting comparison. Consider conflicts in Iraqi cities, where a small number of insurgents can cause total chaos, freaking out citizens to the extent that they react negatively to the U.S. troops who swarm in to eliminate the insurgents, and as a result the U.S. troops sometimes kill some civilians, feeling that they were defending themselves. Obviously the same chaos can erupt with equal ease in a typical American city.

- It should be noted that the following article (and other articles on this event) completely ignore the racist message that the Nazis have been promoting in advance of this event, claiming that Toledo's whites are afraid for their lives because of mobs of black gangs throughout the city, ridiculous sensationalistic propaganda with no basis whatsoever.

Planned Neo-Nazi March Sparks Violence
Dozens of arrests expected; mayor blames gang members

TOLEDO, Ohio (CNN) -- A neo-Nazi group's scheduled march against "black crime" in Toledo, Ohio, sparked rioting Saturday afternoon.

Police and SWAT teams moved in, and about two dozen rioters were arrested, Toledo Police Chief Michael Navarre said. He said he expected 30 to 40 arrests by the end of the day.

Toledo Mayor Jack Ford declared a state of emergency and asked for 50 highway patrol officers to reinforce Toledo police. A curfew came into effect at 8 p.m. for people "roaming around the streets," he said.(Watch neo-Nazi protests turn violent)

He also blamed gang members for the violence, saying it turned into "exactly what they wanted," referring to the Nazi group. Ford said he had appealed to the community Friday night to ignore the Nazi march.

It's not clear why the National Socialist Movement chose north Toledo for its march, said Ford, himself African-American. "It is not a neighborhood where you have a lot of friction in the first place," he said.

The NSM promotes itself as America's Nazi Party and said that it was protesting black gangs, which it claimed were harassing white residents. The group said it had received support from Toledo's white citizens and community activists.

A spokesman for the group, Bill White, blamed the riot on Toledo police, saying the police intentionally changed the group's march route to make it collide with a counter-demonstration.

About 20 members from both the International Socialists Organization and One People's Project showed up, and some handed eggs to African-American residents to throw at the Nazi marchers, White said.

Ford said that scenario was likely.

"Based on the intelligence we received, that's exactly what they do -- they come into town and get people riled up," Ford said. "I think that's a very common technique."

The Nazi march was called off, and none of the National Socialist Movement group's 80 members who showed up to participate was arrested, White said.

Hours later, aerial video showed people vandalizing buildings and setting fire to a two-story building that apparently housed a bar, Toledo police spokeswoman Capt. Diana Ruiz-Krause told CNN.

The violence was contained to a six- or eight-block area in the north Toledo neighborhood, she added.

At least 150 officers from various units -- some on horseback, bicycles and in riot gear -- were on the scene. The city's police chief said his officers showed "considerable restraint" after being pelted with rocks and bottles for "considerable hours."

"We could have made a couple hundred arrests," he said.

Ruiz-Krause blamed the mayhem on a disorganized group of the community's youth.

Most of the violence happened when residents, who had pelted the Nazi marchers with bottles and rocks, took out their anger on police, said Brian Jagodzinski, chief news photographer for CNN affiliate WTVG.

Video showed crowds at around 2:25 p.m. using bats to bring down a wooden fence as looters broke into a small grocery store.

"The crowd was very ... extremely agitated at the police ... for doing this [making arrests in] the community when they should be doing this to the Nazis," Jagodzinski said.

Around 3 p.m., crowds of young men pelted the outside of a two-story residence with rocks, smashed out the windows with wooden crates, ran inside and threw out the furniture and lamps from the upper-level windows to the sidewalk below. No police were on the scene.

About 10 minutes later, the building's second story was in flames as a crowd of people watched.

When police arrived, they used pepper spray on counter-demonstrators and shot tear gas containers into the crowd, Jagodzinski said.

He added that his news van and a police car had windows smashed and doors bent back.

When the violence broke out, the Nazi marchers returned to their headquarters, White said.

A statement from the National Socialist Movement said Toledo city officials had said they would not issue a permit for the group's march. The group said it did not seek a permit, because it didn't ask for "special accommodations."

"We are not asking that roads be closed; we are not asking that sidewalks be closed; we are not asking for additional police protection," White said in the statement. "All we are saying is that we will have a few people walking down the street making a statement about an issue the City is refusing to address.

"And if the City interferes with or unreasonably burdens our ability to do so, then they will answer for their behavior in court," the statement added.

Posted at 10:30 PM

October 14, 2005

After a two-year study the National Science Foundation announced the following results on corporate America's recreational preferences.

1. The sport of choice for unemployed or incarcerated people is:
Basketball

2. The sport of choice for maintenance level employees is:
Bowling

3. The sport of choice for front line workers is:
Football

4. The sport of choice for supervisors is:
Baseball

5. The sport of choice for middle management is:
Tennis

6. The sport of choice for corporate officials is:
Golf

Conclusion: The higher you are in the corporate structure, the smaller your balls.

Posted at 2:03 AM

October 13, 2005

This insomnia shit has got to go ...

Posted at 4:07 AM

October 12, 2005

Steve was in Sandusky to work on site at a local branch of Fifth/Third Bank (the bank his company services), and he stopped by here after he finished his call. We went to Damon's for dinner and talked for two hours or so about politics and recent news. After that we headed back to the house and, after I got some tea brewing for him, we sat and talked some more, perhaps for another two hours.

Eventually we turned our talk to the game of D&D that Steve has been running, and we debated a few issues of what has been happening in the game, how gameplay has been working, and talked about where things were going. We spent a bit of time, too, doing some detailed role-playing of a little side excursion that one of my characters in the game has done outside of the group of adventurers of which he's normally a part. We made a lot of progress in that way, really moving him along and getting a lot of things done that I really wanted to see accomplished.

By the time we stopped, though - even though we could have kept going with that one character's excursion for a while - it was almost 2:30 AM, and Steve still had to drive back to Toledo and still had to get some sleep so that he could go to work in the morning. That certainly wouldn't make for much of a night of sleep for Steve. Heck, I don't even know that I'll get all that much sleep by the time I have to wake up. Still, Steve is sure to be quite tired tomorrow. I hope it was worth it for him. I know that I certainly enjoyed his company and had a good time. For me it was certainly worth it, and a little less sleep is hardly a penalty.

Posted Written at 4:28 AM

October 11, 2005

I made the switch from DSL to cable internet today. Even though my level of service is at an equal level to before (at up to 1.5 Mbps) I am finding my e.mail and internet access to be much more responsive and quick-loading than in the past. I had hoped this would be the case and that the cable service would indeed use the upper end of the 1.5 Mbps range, and that is certainly a nice benefit of the switch.

My reason for changing to cable internet was actually financial rather than because of any possible improvements in speed. Even though I had negotiated quite good DSL rates in the past, I still was paying what I felt was far too much per month. With the switch to cable, based on current promotions, I was able to cut my monthly costs by over $25, and now I'm not even paying $15 a month - pretty amazing for internet access, even for dial-up. Yes, I did have to give up my land-line phone as part of that switch, but I have moved so much to my celll phone that the land-line was really just a huge waste of money all around. Now I have one less phone to deal with and a whole lot less money going out per month.

I saved my grandma a huge amount of cash as well by having her phone switched to cable telephone. That literally cut her monthly costs in half, both for local as well as long distance service, and she was able to keep her same phone number (which is good since she's had that number for about 60 years). So both my grandma and I are reaping huge savings from this change, and it seems that service is even better as well.

Possibly the best treat of the day was the cable guy, Mark, who was around for about two hours with the full install. Damn he was hot! He was just as sexy as could be, and I had a great time just watching him stretch and lean over or climb a ladder ... oh man! He was wonderful. He had the most lean, tight little body, and he was as nice as could be. I would certainly have loved to have him lay some cable in my bedroom (if you know what I mean), but I was a good boy (damnit all), and he left probably completely unaware of my interest. Oh well. At least I have a more perky internet. It's hardly a fair trade compared against hot, steamy sex with a sexy little god, but I've got to take what I can get. Heck that's disappointing ...

Posted at 1:51 AM

October 10, 2005

I've always had the consolation that Fuhrer Bush would get his due in the annals of history, and even the moronic conservatives that blindly support him would eventually have to see how corrupt, idiotic, and despicable he is. The declassification of many Nixon-era documents has made clear what kind of a man Richard Nixon was, and history should expose every president in the same naked truths, making them stand or fall on the factual evidence of their administrations.

Sadly it seems that the Fuhrer has realized the danger of future disclosures, not only for his own presidency but for his father's and Reagan's presidencies. Certainly the naked facts about Iran-Contra and every other misdeed from Reagan-Bush would seriosuly damage the Republican party once released, and the 12-year wait observed in declassifying presidential documents has almost ended for those men. The thing is that W., realizing his own faults as well as those of his predecessors, decided that he can thwart history and reality and just use a presidential dictatorial edict to make it so that anything to do with Reagan or any president thereafter will never be known by the people of America. I should note that while the following article suggests that Bill Clinton probably made some deal to push Bush into this, you'll note that Clinton was decidedly against this Executive Order and would have prefered his (and all other presidents') documents to be released.

Only time will tell how this will play out, but I certainly hope that the courts, Congress, or a future president will void this decision. It is all too clear that the Rerpublican administrations of the last 25 years have a great deal that they want to remain hidden. The sooner those secrets are revealed to the American public the better.

Bush's Veil Over History

Secrecy has been perhaps the most consistent trait of the George W. Bush presidency. Whether it involves refusing to provide the names of oil executives who advised Vice President Dick Cheney on energy policy, prohibiting photographs of flag-draped coffins returning from Iraq, or forbidding the release of files pertaining to Chief Justice John Roberts's tenure in the Justice Department, President Bush seems determined to control what the public is permitted to know. And he has been spectacularly effective, making Richard Nixon look almost transparent.

But perhaps the most egregious example occurred on Nov. 1, 2001, when President Bush signed Executive Order 13233, under which a former president's private papers can be released only with the approval of both that former president (or his heirs) and the current one.

Before that executive order, the National Archives had controlled the release of documents under the Presidential Records Act of 1978, which stipulated that all papers, except those pertaining to national security, had to be made available 12 years after a president left office.

Now, however, Mr. Bush can prevent the public from knowing not only what he did in office, but what Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush and Ronald Reagan did in the name of democracy. (Although Mr. Reagan's term ended more than 12 years before the executive order, the Bush administration had filed paperwork in early 2001 to stop the clock, and thus his papers fall under it.)

Bill Clinton publicly objected to the executive order, saying he wanted all his papers open. Yet the Bush administration has nonetheless denied access to documents surrounding the 177 pardons President Clinton granted in the last days of his presidency. Coming without explanation, this action raised questions and fueled conspiracy theories: Is there something to hide? Is there more to know about the controversial pardon of the fugitive financier Marc Rich? Is there a quid pro quo between Bill Clinton and the Bushes? Is the current president laying a secrecy precedent for pardons he intends to grant?

The administration's effort to grandfather the Reagan papers under the act also raised a red flag. President Bush's signature stopped the National Archives from a planned release of documents from the Reagan era, some of which might have shed light on the Iran-contra scandal and illuminated the role played by the vice president at the time, George H. W. Bush.

What can be done to bring this information to light? Because executive orders are not acts of Congress, they can be overturned by future commanders in chief. But this is a lot to ask of presidents given the free pass handed them by Mr. Bush. (And it could put a President Hillary Clinton in a bind when it came to her own husband's papers.)

Other efforts to rectify the situation are equally problematic. Representative Henry Waxman, Democrat of California, has repeatedly introduced legislation to overturn Mr. Bush's executive order, but the chances of a Republican Congress defying a Republican president are slim.

There is also a lawsuit by the American Historical Association and other academic and archival groups before the United States District Court for the District of Columbia. A successful verdict could force the National Archives to ignore the executive order and begin making public records from the Reagan and elder Bush administrations.

Unless one of these efforts succeeds, George W. Bush and his father can see to it that their administrations pass into history without examination. Their rationales for waging wars in the Middle East will go unchallenged. There will be no chance to weigh the arguments that led the administration to condone torture by our armed forces. The problems of federal agencies entrusted with public welfare during times of national disaster - 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina - will be unaddressed. Details on no-bid contracts awarded to politically connected corporations like Halliburton will escape scrutiny, as will the president's role in Environmental Protection Agency's policies on water and air polluters.

This is about much more than the desires of historians and biographers - the best interests of the nation are at stake. As the American Political Science Association, one plaintiff in the federal lawsuit, put it: "The only way we can improve the operation of government, enhance the accountability of decision-makers and ultimately help maintain public trust in government is for people to understand how it worked in the past."

Posted at 12:09 AM

October 9, 2005

One day a first grade teacher was reading the story of "Chicken Little" to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, ".... and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!"

The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that farmer said?"

One little girl raised her hand and said, "I think he said: 'Holy Shit! A talking chicken!'"

Posted at 11:47 PM

October 8, 2005

That little talking baby that they use on the Quizno's TV ads really creeps me out. Even the CGI-modified animals that are made to talk and stuff in recent ads don't have any noticeable effect upon me, but that baby and the way they have made it look like his mouth moves - cr-eeee-py!

Posted at 2:14 AM

October 7, 2005

Have I mentioned how much I hate my car? It's not remotely fun. I don't really like the body style. It's automatic, not manual. It has horrible acoustics, so the stereo sucks even though I've put a huge amount of money into a decent sound system. It gets worse gas mileage than my truck used to. It has the worst handling in rain, snow or ice of any car I've ever driven. And worst of all, it has now officially cost me more in maintainance and repairs than any other car I've had.

Today's credit-draining impact was $938.41, a hideous amount to fix all of my car's ailments: repairing a loose tie rod which had thrown off the alignment (thereby requiring a new alignment); replacing the front brake pads (which were worn down to nothing); replacing a control unit in the air conditioning system (that was malfunctioning and causing the A/C to fail); replacing a burnt out back-up light; flushing and servicing the transmission; flushing and servicing the coolant system; replacing the fuel filter; and replacing the PCV Valve. Lucky me, I got them to rotate the tires for free! (wasn't that generous after only nailing me for nearly a thousand bucks?)

Considering the car is eight years old now (it's a 1998 Olds Cutlass, but considering they release new models in the previous year, it was actually made and sold in 1997, therefore eight years old) - considering it's eight years old, it has hit the point where one thing after another can be expected to fail and require replacement. To my experience it is a universal truth that any American-made car becomes a financial sink-hole after eight to ten years, requiring constant repairs to fix parts that seem designed to last only that long. It would be bad enough to have to pay huge amounts to keep this thing in decent shape, considering my crappy financial situation, but it's even worse considering I hate this car in just about every way. It just stinks.

So anyhow, I'm not pleased, and I'm even more financially blasted than before. The fun never ends here in Sandusky, folks. Be glad that you live wherever you do and that you're not here, stuck in Sandusky, the sink-hole of the universe, where the "fun" never ends.

Posted at 2:37 AM

October 6, 2005

It's been an odd evening.

Rather than go to work with Theresa, my advisor, on my thesis, and rather than go to the Poetry and Fiction Reading Series at BGSU, I went to Mark's to play D&D. It seems like forever since we last played, although it was hardly any time at all, and I was looking forward to playing and also really looking forward to socializing with Mark, Steve, and Steffen. As it ended up we had a good session in the game and a decent amount of socializing, so that was great. It was the things going on around our gaming table that made things different.

I arrived quite a bit early, well before anyone else, and said my "Hello"s to Mitchell (Mark's baby boy who greeted me at the door, standing guard), to Lindsay (Mark's teenage daughter (step-daughter) (and I'm sure I'm misspelling her name, but knowing that doesn't help to fix it), to Madison (Mark's three year old daughter (or is she four?), and to Tiffany (Mark's very overworked wife (you raise three infants and two teenagers plus all of their friends and your nieces and nephews and you'd be overworked, too). Everybody was happy and healthy today (which is saying a lot for such a large number of kids whewre none of them were sick or tired or cranky), and I made my way into the basement(where we play) and set things up on the pool table for the game. I'd also bought dinner (Chinese) for me, Mark, and Steve (Steffen prefers to get his own), so I laid that out as well. Tiffany sent Lindsay down not too long thereafter to tell me that Steffen had called and would be late, and I made my acknowledgements and continued eating my dinner as Lindsay opened up Mark's meal and ate a bit for herself before mixing things back up and resealing them, thereby leaving Mark none-the-wiser that some of his food had disappeared. This is a pretty regular thing, actually. Lindsay's been snagging a few bites of Mark's food for almost as long as I have been bringing it. It's funny, really, and it's like our little secret inside joke. Normally Lindsay would take a few bites, reseal everything, make a quick comment or two, and then head back upstairs, but today she stayed. She talked to me a bit and then made and took a few calls on her cell phone while sitting on the couch, talking to me a bit between calls - just small-talk, really, but more than we've ever talked before. Madison came downstairs during all of this and played with her dolls and asked a whole bunch of questions (she was really wired, having eaten a brownie or two not long before that), and she tried to get some of the food spread out on the table (I gave her one of the fortune cookies). She and Lindsay and I were all talking together for a little while, but eventually Linsday went back upstairs to wait for her friends to come over. Maddy stayed with me for a while and played while I ate, but she, too, went back upstairs eventually. Usually they don't pay me that much attention, and certainly they never talk to me so much, and it was nice ... really nice ... like they felt it was natural for me to be there and all. So that was all sort of unusual - nice but unusual. And I didn't and still don't know why this visit at Mark's was different to me.

Mark got home from football practice (he's a coach) while Maddy was still with me, and she went upstairs as he came down to say "Hello" and set up his gaming books and such. He dug into his meal and we talked a bit, and Dakota (Mark's teenage son (step-son)) came down to ask Mark something, and he noticed me and asked when I'd gotten there. He had missed me coming in (and usually he's the first to see me arrive), so he was surprised to see me. He gave me a pleasant smile, making me feel welcome, and he joked around with Mark a bit before heading back upstairs. Steve arrived soon after, and Steffen made it after a little while longer, and we all talked and gamed and had a good time. Like I said, the gaming and socializing with the guys was nice.

When we were winding up (Mark had to get ready to go on duty on his patrol (he's a policeman) and Steffen left to get sleep since he has to be up early for work), Dakota came downstairs again and said, "Hey, Paul, what's up?" and just responded simply that I was just cleaning things up before heading out. Dakota was being nice, and I felt myself again feeling very comfortable in Mark's home and accepted by his family. I felt like Dakota and I might have even started up a real conversation, but Steve came back into the room being a bit bombastic, and the mood passed (although I will say that while it was simple and short, the converesation that Dakota and I started was the longest conversation we'd had to date). Dakota went back upstairs and once Steve and I had gathered up out books and our trash and such we headed upstairs as well.

Tiffany was just returning from a girl's night out taking some line dancing lessons (Lindsay had been babysitting, helped by Dakota (and us)), so the whole family was there (other than Mark, who had headed to work). We talked a little bit about different things, although not for long, but again I had that feeling of things being natural and comfortable. Steve and I had to get on our way, so we left at around a quarter to midnight, but I though most of the way back to Sandusky about the comfortable feelings I'd had in Mark's house tonight and how I'd had real conversations with his kids.

It felt good talking to Mark's kids, and maybe it's the lonely old man in me talking, but it really filled a huge empty spot for me. In fact talking to the kids for those brief moments honestly made me feel better than the few hours of talking and gaming with Mark and Steve and Steffen. There's still that aching longing in me that wants to be a father-figure or a mentor to a kid or a teenager, and while I wasn't really either of those things at all tonight I felt the warmth and fulfillment that that sort of connection can bring. I want more of that kind of a feeling, but I have no idea how to come by it with the life that I lead. It's not something that just falls in your lap, really, and I'm certainly not seeing my nephew and niece, my godson, or anybody enough to make up for what I really feel I'm missing.

I'll be missing Mark's family, too, it seems. Mark has decided that the distractions caused by his family during gaming nights are too much, and he's moving gaming back to the SAGES offices in the future. That means that in the future when I game with Mark, Steve, and Steffen we'll probably get more accomplished game-wise, but it means, for me at least, that I'll be losing touch with something that's really meant a lot to me. I don't know why I make such a big deal of it because tonight's the first night I've had any real conversations with any of the kids, and there's certainly no telling whether they'd even talk to me at all the next time I'd show up, but there's a huge empty part of me that's already missing even just seeing them again sometime soon and maybe hearing a "Hello" or anything at all. I will definitely miss them.

Posted Written at 1:32 AM

October 5, 2005

Conservatives are possibly even more up in arms about Fuhrer Bush's nomination of Harriet Miers to replace Sandra Day O'Connor on the Supreme Court than liberals. That's saying quite a bit, really, considering the conservatives always try to at least be semi-supportive of anything Bush or other Republicans do, even if they don't like it - all so that they never have to admit that Bush and other Republicans make some incredibly fucking stupid moves (which would reflect badly on Republicans and thereby reflect badly on Conservatives). To my amazement, even George F. Will, Conservative columnist extraordinaire, has not shown the least bit of hesitation in condemning Bush's bad pick for the Supreme Court. I have always respected George Will's intelligence and rhetorical skills even though we are worlds apart in ideology, but I have gained an even greater respect for the man when he stands defiantly against what is clearly a miserable choice based solely upon cronyism - the rewarding of loyal followers who have no real qualificatiosn for the job they are awarded. The Supreme Court needs much more than followers, loyal or not, and George Will knows that very well. Hopefully the Republican majority in Congress (and in the Senate in particular) will know that also.

Can This Nomination Be Justified?
by George F. Will

Senators beginning what ought to be a protracted and exacting scrutiny of Harriet Miers should be guided by three rules. First, it is not important that she be confirmed. Second, it might be very important that she not be. Third, the presumption -- perhaps rebuttable but certainly in need of rebutting -- should be that her nomination is not a defensible exercise of presidential discretion to which senatorial deference is due.

It is not important that she be confirmed because there is no evidence that she is among the leading lights of American jurisprudence, or that she possesses talents commensurate with the Supreme Court's tasks. The president's "argument" for her amounts to: Trust me. There is no reason to, for several reasons.

He has neither the inclination nor the ability to make sophisticated judgments about competing approaches to construing the Constitution. Few presidents acquire such abilities in the course of their pre-presidential careers, and this president particularly is not disposed to such reflections.

Furthermore, there is no reason to believe that Miers's nomination resulted from the president's careful consultation with people capable of such judgments. If 100 such people had been asked to list 100 individuals who have given evidence of the reflectiveness and excellence requisite in a justice, Miers's name probably would not have appeared in any of the 10,000 places on those lists.

In addition, the president has forfeited his right to be trusted as a custodian of the Constitution. The forfeiture occurred March 27, 2002, when, in a private act betokening an uneasy conscience, he signed the McCain-Feingold law expanding government regulation of the timing, quantity and content of political speech. The day before the 2000 Iowa caucuses he was asked -- to ensure a considered response from him, he had been told in advance that he would be asked -- whether McCain-Feingold's core purposes are unconstitutional. He unhesitatingly said, "I agree." Asked if he thought presidents have a duty, pursuant to their oath to defend the Constitution, to make an independent judgment about the constitutionality of bills and to veto those he thinks unconstitutional, he briskly said, "I do."

It is important that Miers not be confirmed unless, in her 61st year, she suddenly and unexpectedly is found to have hitherto undisclosed interests and talents pertinent to the court's role. Otherwise the sound principle of substantial deference to a president's choice of judicial nominees will dissolve into a rationalization for senatorial abdication of the duty to hold presidents to some standards of seriousness that will prevent them from reducing the Supreme Court to a private plaything useful for fulfilling whims on behalf of friends.

The wisdom of presumptive opposition to Miers's confirmation flows from the fact that constitutional reasoning is a talent -- a skill acquired, as intellectual skills are, by years of practice sustained by intense interest. It is not usually acquired in the normal course of even a fine lawyer's career. The burden is on Miers to demonstrate such talents, and on senators to compel such a demonstration or reject the nomination.

Under the rubric of "diversity" -- nowadays, the first refuge of intellectually disreputable impulses -- the president announced, surely without fathoming the implications, his belief in identity politics and its tawdry corollary, the idea of categorical representation. Identity politics holds that one's essential attributes are genetic, biological, ethnic or chromosomal -- that one's nature and understanding are decisively shaped by race, ethnicity or gender. Categorical representation holds that the interests of a group can be understood, empathized with and represented only by a member of that group.

The crowning absurdity of the president's wallowing in such nonsense is the obvious assumption that the Supreme Court is, like a legislature, an institution of representation. This from a president who, introducing Miers, deplored judges who "legislate from the bench."

Minutes after the president announced the nomination of his friend from Texas, another Texas friend, Robert Jordan, former ambassador to Saudi Arabia, was on Fox News proclaiming what he and, no doubt, the White House that probably enlisted him for advocacy, considered glad and relevant tidings: Miers, Jordan said, has been a victim. She has been, he said contentedly, "discriminated against" because of her gender.

Her victimization was not so severe that it prevented her from becoming the first female president of a Texas law firm as large as hers, president of the State Bar of Texas and a senior White House official. Still, playing the victim card clarified, as much as anything has so far done, her credentials, which are her chromosomes and their supposedly painful consequences. For this we need a conservative president?

Posted at 10:52 PM

October 4, 2005

I am so fucking tired today. I was up at 6 AM (getting maybe 5 hours of sleep) to take my mother to the airport in Cleveland, and I have been exhausted all day. I napped for about a half hour not long after I got back to Sandusky around 10 AM, but I pushed myself to be awake, have lunch, and get a few things done with my grandma and household issues. Once everything was done, though, I lay down to surf the net a bit and I was gone, sleeping from around 3 PM until 7 PM. I forced myself to wake up and eat dinner and try to do something with the rest of the day, but I have just been incredibly tired, achy, and suffering from a pounding headache. Most importantly I've had to really fight to keep myself awake. I am just so tired I can't stand it. I'm giving up the battle soon and just letting sleep take me. Maybe I'll be lucky and sleep the whole night through, something that's been incredibly rare the past few months.

Posted at 11:06 PM

October 3, 2005

Surface is proving to be very cool. Each of the three epsiodes so far have been surprisingly interesting and full of unexpected developments, visually impressive, and played out by the actors very realistically. I would have laughed at you if you would have suggested NBC could have ever even considered something like this, let alone have the ability to pull it off. As it is I'm still shocked that NBC is behind this - pleasantly shocked.

Posted at 12:16 AM

October 2, 2005

It's too late for me, isn't it. <Sigh>

How is it that I can so certainly know this and still have such a hard time acepting it? If I could just accept it ... well, that would seem like it would make things simpler.

Posted at 11:00 PM

October 1, 2005

You know, I think I've reached a point where my life is completely imploding upon me, and even in the rare moments that I can overcome my crippling anxiety I feel like I'm having absolutely no impact upon making any of this remotely better. Time and fate are not on my side.

Posted at 10:07 PM

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