The California Supreme Court says same-sex marriage is a human right. Woo-hoo, our rights actually might increase a notch.
That’s cause for celebration in this Patriot Act Decade, when our rights have been disappearing faster than polar bears. A friend from Scotland was recently denied re-entry to the USA, where he is legally quite gainfully employed, because several years ago he went scuba diving in the Red Sea. Did Homeland Security think that name meant it was a commie lake? No, they accurately detected that it’s located in the Middle East. You cannot swim underwater with Arabs on nearby shores and expect to work in the land of the free.
So I figured now at least two guys can tie the knot in Fresno. Then a California friend called, and he seemed less happy.
My astute friend – he lives in San Francisco, where everyone is either astute or gay and usually both – pointed out that six of the seven judges who made the ruling are Republicans.
Now the issue is not only headed for the California ballot, but for the national political spotlight in November.
So that got me thinking about the sacrament of marriage. I offer a new idea (if those are allowed) for the left: campaign for an end to state-sponsored marriage.
This has the advantage of being good policy and also throws the right wing gay-bashers off their game. And maybe we’ll win a few people over: that’s one element that the left often avoids, but what the hell, let’s go for it.
So, here’s the plan.
Marriage would henceforth be sanctified only by priests, imams, monks and sundry other consecrated ones. No more sacraments at city hall.
The state shall henceforth grant a civil union to any couple over the age of consent. This will cover such un-spiritual matters as pensions, health care, inheritance and form 1040.
We can point out that we’re saving holy marriage by getting activist judges and secular legislators out of the loop. In fact, if any judge so much as mentions marriage, we’ll have that sucker impeached, recalled or whatever pulls their judicial plug.
We can seek endorsements from bible thumpers of all stripes – from Frisco to Waco -- for the Holy Sanctified Marriage Act. Even the polygamists can get on board: marry as many consenting adults as your personal potentate prescribes.
The term win-win just leaps to mind.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Could America Go Smart?
Obama can’t bowl. We laugh. Hillary takes a shot and a beer. We laugh harder. It’s America, where Ivy League multi-millionaires play at being regular folks, but usually about as well as George Bush plays President.
Obama can win the city and split the burbs, but Clinton’s got the white working class. It’s macro-analyzed, micro-analyzed and re-analyzed.
But maybe they’re missing the real question: could America go smart?
Could smart become chic, and then waltz right in and displace dumb as the American political paradigm?
One defining characteristic of American politics is the love affair with dumb. It goes way back and way deep. What other country could boast a thriving party called the Know Nothings. That was like two centuries ago (but only one century old when I learned it in civics class). It was anti-immigrant -- some things never change.
It’s not just the right either, though surely a political culture of dumbness plays to the right. Remember, the original crusader for anti-evolutionism – another uniquely American dumbassity – was our greatest populist, William Jennings Bryan. Maybe it’s understandable: poor folks have been called dumb so long they just don’t trust smart.
Ronald Reagan, the most influential President of my long lifetime, could not distinguish the history of WW II from war movies. When he debated Carter, and Carter made a fool of him, he intoned "There you go again," a line that scored a knockout with Americans. Carter was buried in a landslide of dumb.
George Bush portrayed himself as a regular guy, and, incredibly, it worked. Out of 300 million people, I can’t think of one who better personifies being a child of privilege. Yet he successfully portrayed his opponents as elitists (well that wasn’t hard with Kerry, was it?). His country estate became a "ranch." He’s dumb and thus a bona fide regular American.
Bill Clinton, he’s smart. Yale and Oxford. But he played Joe Six-pack in the movie of American politics. Hillary – Radcliffe and Yale – tells us tales of grandpa teaching her to hunt. Hunt what? Cattle futures? She’s playing us for dumb, a tried and true strategy.
In other countries, politicians pretend to be smarter than they are. Must be really weird to be there! Imagine a debate in, say, France, where the French Reagan tries "there you go again" and the other Frenchie says, "Do you really think the French people will buy that crap?"
Once I was at a debate with the Prime Minister of Belize. His opponent was wearing flip-flops. The chairman of Blue Creek village told the Prime Minister his priorities were wrong. They both sounded smart. The nearest high school was a long bus ride away.
When Oscar Arias, or Mandela, or Palme, or Arafat won the Nobel Prize, that enhanced their reputation among their people. But Gore… if he had a chance at a comeback, that Nobel finished him off. There ain’t no bowling alleys in Norway. (Or is it Sweden, those two are too confusing to us Americans.)
Tipping Point?
Then comes along Obama. All this talk about Obamamania, Obamicans, etc, but what strikes me is that he isn’t talking dumb. Why hasn’t that finished him off?
They say he’s so eloquent. But maybe that means he playing smart. And maybe there’s a market for that now. A bigger market than the back seat of an 8-air bag Volvo.
I don’t ever listen to these politicians. I paid my dues to do-goodness and I just don’t have to suffer through that. But after the Obama race speech, a friend told me I had to check it out. So I read it on line. Very different. Not profound, not pungent, nowhere near a King speech. But it was smart. That was the stunner. So I went on line for other Obama speeches, and, sure enough, they were smart, too.
Then I started thinking about working people I know, and how many of them want smart leaders. Maybe there is some tipping point we’re near, where leaders will have to play smart. They’ll have to say they know more about the theory of evolution than the other candidate. ("Why, I just re-read the original Darwin last week!"). They’ll brag that they read Harvard studies proving that cutting taxes on the rich leads to the rich getting richer but nothing much useful to you and me.
They’ll claim that when they go bowling, between frames they study how to stop the spread of nuclear weapons.
I don’t know if it would change much. But at least I’d be less embarrassed about the whole thing.
Obama can win the city and split the burbs, but Clinton’s got the white working class. It’s macro-analyzed, micro-analyzed and re-analyzed.
But maybe they’re missing the real question: could America go smart?
Could smart become chic, and then waltz right in and displace dumb as the American political paradigm?
One defining characteristic of American politics is the love affair with dumb. It goes way back and way deep. What other country could boast a thriving party called the Know Nothings. That was like two centuries ago (but only one century old when I learned it in civics class). It was anti-immigrant -- some things never change.
It’s not just the right either, though surely a political culture of dumbness plays to the right. Remember, the original crusader for anti-evolutionism – another uniquely American dumbassity – was our greatest populist, William Jennings Bryan. Maybe it’s understandable: poor folks have been called dumb so long they just don’t trust smart.
Ronald Reagan, the most influential President of my long lifetime, could not distinguish the history of WW II from war movies. When he debated Carter, and Carter made a fool of him, he intoned "There you go again," a line that scored a knockout with Americans. Carter was buried in a landslide of dumb.
George Bush portrayed himself as a regular guy, and, incredibly, it worked. Out of 300 million people, I can’t think of one who better personifies being a child of privilege. Yet he successfully portrayed his opponents as elitists (well that wasn’t hard with Kerry, was it?). His country estate became a "ranch." He’s dumb and thus a bona fide regular American.
Bill Clinton, he’s smart. Yale and Oxford. But he played Joe Six-pack in the movie of American politics. Hillary – Radcliffe and Yale – tells us tales of grandpa teaching her to hunt. Hunt what? Cattle futures? She’s playing us for dumb, a tried and true strategy.
In other countries, politicians pretend to be smarter than they are. Must be really weird to be there! Imagine a debate in, say, France, where the French Reagan tries "there you go again" and the other Frenchie says, "Do you really think the French people will buy that crap?"
Once I was at a debate with the Prime Minister of Belize. His opponent was wearing flip-flops. The chairman of Blue Creek village told the Prime Minister his priorities were wrong. They both sounded smart. The nearest high school was a long bus ride away.
When Oscar Arias, or Mandela, or Palme, or Arafat won the Nobel Prize, that enhanced their reputation among their people. But Gore… if he had a chance at a comeback, that Nobel finished him off. There ain’t no bowling alleys in Norway. (Or is it Sweden, those two are too confusing to us Americans.)
Tipping Point?
Then comes along Obama. All this talk about Obamamania, Obamicans, etc, but what strikes me is that he isn’t talking dumb. Why hasn’t that finished him off?
They say he’s so eloquent. But maybe that means he playing smart. And maybe there’s a market for that now. A bigger market than the back seat of an 8-air bag Volvo.
I don’t ever listen to these politicians. I paid my dues to do-goodness and I just don’t have to suffer through that. But after the Obama race speech, a friend told me I had to check it out. So I read it on line. Very different. Not profound, not pungent, nowhere near a King speech. But it was smart. That was the stunner. So I went on line for other Obama speeches, and, sure enough, they were smart, too.
Then I started thinking about working people I know, and how many of them want smart leaders. Maybe there is some tipping point we’re near, where leaders will have to play smart. They’ll have to say they know more about the theory of evolution than the other candidate. ("Why, I just re-read the original Darwin last week!"). They’ll brag that they read Harvard studies proving that cutting taxes on the rich leads to the rich getting richer but nothing much useful to you and me.
They’ll claim that when they go bowling, between frames they study how to stop the spread of nuclear weapons.
I don’t know if it would change much. But at least I’d be less embarrassed about the whole thing.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Big Wally Comes to Town
Our very first Wal-Mart opened in Detroit. Well, not actually in Detroit, nothing opens there. But in the closest suburb, a straight shot down the street from our homestead.
So there I went. For research purposes only, mind you.
It’s big. I knew that, but now I’ve got the feel. Like I knew a steam locomotive was big, but then I saw one indoors at the transportation museum in Detroit, and it was …big. That was my first Wal-Mart impression, and, well, my biggest one.
In fact, I now suspect this is the key to Wal-Mart’s success. Be Bigger Than Everyone Else. Americans are all about big. Big cars. Big money. Big televisions. Big weapons.
It’s got a Subway (no, not public transportation, this is America). It’s got an optometrist (well, so does Sears, Wally.). It may have body piercing and motorcycle mufflers, too. I didn’t begin to explore the outer reaches.
I headed straight for my favorite stuff: food. I compared (apples-to-apples comparisons; in one case, literally) prices to my market, E&L. E&L was cheaper on all 10 comparisons. Bigger is not always cheaper.
I headed out of the fresh food, which must be Wally’s weak spot. There were case-lots of paper towels. I do have a basement, so this could be attractive. I had no basis to compare prices on those. Probably cheap, don’t you think?
A Wal-Mart associate was stocking jars of pickles. Staring at the pickle rack, I asked "I don’t see pickled okra, do you have it?" She offered a blank stare, then "I don’t know" and resumed stocking. Score one for Kroger.
I bought a jar of crunchy peanut butter for $2.39. The kind whose ingredients are peanuts, salt. Kroger has the same Smuckers but no crunchy. My Maggie is choosy. Wally scores a point.
Notice that my research turned participatory. I think it gave me a truer Wal-Mart Experience: immersion science.
I headed outta food, and into the vast expanses of baby strollers, tote bags, and giant beer coolers. I was fascinated with the size of some of those. They could be used in a mystery movie where the body is hidden in a beer cooler. With extra room for 2 cases of Bud Lite. Once again, I had no basis for price comparison. I suspect it’s all cheap. (Am I getting sucked into America’s vortex?)
I am seeking – this is all in the interest of science – an outdoor thermometer. I start testing the friendly associates on where I might find one. Two associates come back with blank stares. A third listlessly says "garden section" in a tone that suggests a wild guess. It does sound like a good one.
The garden associate, when asked, states (I am not making this up; the integrity of science is on the line.) "Did you check each aisle in this department?" I said "Is that what I should do?" The now-familiar blank stare locked on. (Do they program them to look like that trademark smiley face, only dumber?)
I’m getting shop-phobia. Which I suffer from, especially inside malls. I stay out of malls for this reason. My credit card balance is zero, also for this reason. So I head for the check-outs.
I’ve been watching the Wal-Mart ads on TV in preparation for this research. The ads show their vast expanse of check-out lines for your convenience.
Indeed there are many. But ¼ of them are open. The line takes 9 minutes. Wally is copy-catting Kroger: lotsa checkouts, few operating.
I’m safely out. But now I face the final act in the tale of Bigness. The parking lot appears to stretch from Dearborn to Arkansas. And I have forgotten where I parked. Maybe I’m not smart enough to shop there. I’m comfortable with that.
Goodbye, Wally.
So there I went. For research purposes only, mind you.
It’s big. I knew that, but now I’ve got the feel. Like I knew a steam locomotive was big, but then I saw one indoors at the transportation museum in Detroit, and it was …big. That was my first Wal-Mart impression, and, well, my biggest one.
In fact, I now suspect this is the key to Wal-Mart’s success. Be Bigger Than Everyone Else. Americans are all about big. Big cars. Big money. Big televisions. Big weapons.
It’s got a Subway (no, not public transportation, this is America). It’s got an optometrist (well, so does Sears, Wally.). It may have body piercing and motorcycle mufflers, too. I didn’t begin to explore the outer reaches.
I headed straight for my favorite stuff: food. I compared (apples-to-apples comparisons; in one case, literally) prices to my market, E&L. E&L was cheaper on all 10 comparisons. Bigger is not always cheaper.
I headed out of the fresh food, which must be Wally’s weak spot. There were case-lots of paper towels. I do have a basement, so this could be attractive. I had no basis to compare prices on those. Probably cheap, don’t you think?
A Wal-Mart associate was stocking jars of pickles. Staring at the pickle rack, I asked "I don’t see pickled okra, do you have it?" She offered a blank stare, then "I don’t know" and resumed stocking. Score one for Kroger.
I bought a jar of crunchy peanut butter for $2.39. The kind whose ingredients are peanuts, salt. Kroger has the same Smuckers but no crunchy. My Maggie is choosy. Wally scores a point.
Notice that my research turned participatory. I think it gave me a truer Wal-Mart Experience: immersion science.
I headed outta food, and into the vast expanses of baby strollers, tote bags, and giant beer coolers. I was fascinated with the size of some of those. They could be used in a mystery movie where the body is hidden in a beer cooler. With extra room for 2 cases of Bud Lite. Once again, I had no basis for price comparison. I suspect it’s all cheap. (Am I getting sucked into America’s vortex?)
I am seeking – this is all in the interest of science – an outdoor thermometer. I start testing the friendly associates on where I might find one. Two associates come back with blank stares. A third listlessly says "garden section" in a tone that suggests a wild guess. It does sound like a good one.
The garden associate, when asked, states (I am not making this up; the integrity of science is on the line.) "Did you check each aisle in this department?" I said "Is that what I should do?" The now-familiar blank stare locked on. (Do they program them to look like that trademark smiley face, only dumber?)
I’m getting shop-phobia. Which I suffer from, especially inside malls. I stay out of malls for this reason. My credit card balance is zero, also for this reason. So I head for the check-outs.
I’ve been watching the Wal-Mart ads on TV in preparation for this research. The ads show their vast expanse of check-out lines for your convenience.
Indeed there are many. But ¼ of them are open. The line takes 9 minutes. Wally is copy-catting Kroger: lotsa checkouts, few operating.
I’m safely out. But now I face the final act in the tale of Bigness. The parking lot appears to stretch from Dearborn to Arkansas. And I have forgotten where I parked. Maybe I’m not smart enough to shop there. I’m comfortable with that.
Goodbye, Wally.
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