Growing up, the Christmas tree was always put up on the day after Thanksgiving and always stayed up until my parents anniversary on January 7. We had a moderatly non-realistic artificial tree. Among my early Christmas memories was that it was my job to sort out the branches by the color of paint on the end of the wire so they'd be put in the correct row of holes on the pole that formed the trunk. The branches would be inserted, the green "tribbles" would be wrapped around the trunk to hide the fact that it was a green-painted pole, and then my dad would start swearing at, er, working on making the mini-lights work. Once the lights were on (of course they were the type that if one bulb blew the whole string went out) we'd put on tinsel (later garland when my mom got tired of finding tinsel in the cat's litterbox), then the ornaments (mostly glass). I also recall a stand my dad made out of 2x4's because he got tired of the old stand tipping over.
Christmas morning was as magic as for most kids. Often there would be a set of toy trains under the tree (the beginnings of a hobby for me). Thinking back I'm amazed at what my mother accomplished on a limited income (Dad was disabled at work when I was ten). She'd start shopping for Christmas around May or so, getting an item or two each time.
Christmas Eve was a family thing at my house. I'm the youngest of my family, my brothers and sister are quite a bit older than I am (I have a nephew who's six months younger than I am). Early on (before I was aware of such things) my parents old me they'd have the family get-together on Christmas Day, but found out that (a) my nieces and nephews didn't like being away from their new toys on Christmas Day and (b) they'd express that by breaking MY new toys. So the party was moved to Christmas Eve. My father and brothers would spend the evening getting tipsy on cheap beer and solving all the world's problems in the living room. My mother and sisters-in-law would share the latest gossip in the kitchen. The kids would be playing with whatever presents we got on that day and anticipating what Santa would bring. And of course there was always a big supply of my mother's cookies and cakes.
One year as my mother was preparing for the festivities she was putting stuff out on the dining room table. She had to be careful what she put out, she didn't want to leave anything unattended where the cat (Jeremiah) could get it, but she thought she was safe leaving the olives out. It turned out that Jerry liked olives, he ate the entire jar.
OK, stop reading my blog and get to work on memories for yourself and your kids. Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 23, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
Flight
I should have posted this over the weekend but was busy with other, Christmas related things (including two parties!).
December 17th, 2005 marked the 102nd anniversary of the first manned, powered, sustained flight by a heavier-than-air craft by the Wright brothers. Consider: a mere 66 years later we left the first human foot prints on the moon, and we now have a number of space craft that have not only left the Earth, but have left the entire solar system never to return.
I grew up with the space program, some of the earliest toys I recall were astronauts, rockets, lunar rovers, I even had a card-game called "Space Race". I see a direct correlation between the Wright brothers and the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs. At first planes were used mainly by two groups, the rich and famous and the government. Right now only the governments and a few wealthy individuals have gone into space, but perhaps in a few years (maybe even within my lifetime) we'll see space flight the same way we currently see airplane flight. Recently a private company launched a reuseable craft into suborbital flight. They proved it was reuseable by launching it twice within a preset timeframe. If that's not an exciting concept for a space-age kid I don't know what is.
I remember once being asked what one thing I'd do, what one dream I'd fulfill, if I could do it right now and money were no object. I said I'd ride the space shuttle. To truly understand what this means to me, I hate, and I mean PASSIONATELY hate to fly. I hate amusement park rides, my wife could tell you how Runaway Train at Great Adventure was a white-knuckle experience for me. Just watching a shuttle launch, as the bird rolls over on its back, is enough to make parts of my anatomy pucker. Still, I'd go if I could. If they ever decide that they need an overweight, middle-aged guy as part of the crew I'll be first on line. I'd go as cargo if I had to.
Why? Let me relate a story. Once, while I was commuting by bus, the bus I was in went over an overpass, and on the roadway beneath was a rental truck that was a little to high to make it under the overpass. The top of the truck was peeled back like a sardine can. As I went by at 60 or so mph I could see all the stuff in the truck. Now, I've loaded rental trucks, boxes, furniture, mattresses, etc. This gave me a new perspective on the inside of a truck, a view you don't normally get. I imagine the astronauts in the International Space Station or on the shuttle get that perspective. You don't see a storm from the ground, looking up and only seeing the leading edge of it, you see the whole storm from the top. Imagine seeing the shadow cast by the Rocky Mountains as the sun rises. Imagine looking the other way and seeing stars, more stars than you ever imagined. So I'd clamp my hands firmly on my stomach and keep swallowing whatever I ate for the last two days. I'd hand out earplugs to my fellow crew members so they wouldn't hear me screaming. I'd probably have sore hands for days from clutching whatever there is to clutch. But I'd go, and when I got back I'd be glad I went, I'd count it as the experience of a lifetime.
102 years ago people said that if man were meant to fly he'd have wings. I'd reply that man has wings, wings he made himself. It's what we've always done, we didn't have claws and fangs to hunt with or to protect us from predators so we made them. We didn't have wings, we didn't have the ability to breathe in a vacuum or under water. I believe that someday we'll walk on other planets in this solar system (in fact in the 60's and 70's you couldn't have convinced me that we wouldn't have colonized Mars by now!). That's also what we do, we knew there was nothing on top of Mt Everest, we knew there was nothing really special about the North or South Poles, but that didn't stop people from going there. There may be no good reason to go back to the moon, or to Mars or to one of the moons of Jupiter, but we'll go. We're driven by the same impluse that made a distant ancestor cross to the other side of the river just to see what's there.
Next clear night go outside and look at the moon, reflect that there are footprints, flags, and some decomposing junk up there and that we put it there. Consider that the same spirit that drove those space pioneers drove the Wrights to fly at Kitty Hawk. Try to imagine our world without the technologies that started with that first flight. Now try to imagine our world in a hundred years without the benefits of the technology borne of the space program. Like they say, shoot for the moon, even if you miss you land among the stars.
December 17th, 2005 marked the 102nd anniversary of the first manned, powered, sustained flight by a heavier-than-air craft by the Wright brothers. Consider: a mere 66 years later we left the first human foot prints on the moon, and we now have a number of space craft that have not only left the Earth, but have left the entire solar system never to return.
I grew up with the space program, some of the earliest toys I recall were astronauts, rockets, lunar rovers, I even had a card-game called "Space Race". I see a direct correlation between the Wright brothers and the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs. At first planes were used mainly by two groups, the rich and famous and the government. Right now only the governments and a few wealthy individuals have gone into space, but perhaps in a few years (maybe even within my lifetime) we'll see space flight the same way we currently see airplane flight. Recently a private company launched a reuseable craft into suborbital flight. They proved it was reuseable by launching it twice within a preset timeframe. If that's not an exciting concept for a space-age kid I don't know what is.
I remember once being asked what one thing I'd do, what one dream I'd fulfill, if I could do it right now and money were no object. I said I'd ride the space shuttle. To truly understand what this means to me, I hate, and I mean PASSIONATELY hate to fly. I hate amusement park rides, my wife could tell you how Runaway Train at Great Adventure was a white-knuckle experience for me. Just watching a shuttle launch, as the bird rolls over on its back, is enough to make parts of my anatomy pucker. Still, I'd go if I could. If they ever decide that they need an overweight, middle-aged guy as part of the crew I'll be first on line. I'd go as cargo if I had to.
Why? Let me relate a story. Once, while I was commuting by bus, the bus I was in went over an overpass, and on the roadway beneath was a rental truck that was a little to high to make it under the overpass. The top of the truck was peeled back like a sardine can. As I went by at 60 or so mph I could see all the stuff in the truck. Now, I've loaded rental trucks, boxes, furniture, mattresses, etc. This gave me a new perspective on the inside of a truck, a view you don't normally get. I imagine the astronauts in the International Space Station or on the shuttle get that perspective. You don't see a storm from the ground, looking up and only seeing the leading edge of it, you see the whole storm from the top. Imagine seeing the shadow cast by the Rocky Mountains as the sun rises. Imagine looking the other way and seeing stars, more stars than you ever imagined. So I'd clamp my hands firmly on my stomach and keep swallowing whatever I ate for the last two days. I'd hand out earplugs to my fellow crew members so they wouldn't hear me screaming. I'd probably have sore hands for days from clutching whatever there is to clutch. But I'd go, and when I got back I'd be glad I went, I'd count it as the experience of a lifetime.
102 years ago people said that if man were meant to fly he'd have wings. I'd reply that man has wings, wings he made himself. It's what we've always done, we didn't have claws and fangs to hunt with or to protect us from predators so we made them. We didn't have wings, we didn't have the ability to breathe in a vacuum or under water. I believe that someday we'll walk on other planets in this solar system (in fact in the 60's and 70's you couldn't have convinced me that we wouldn't have colonized Mars by now!). That's also what we do, we knew there was nothing on top of Mt Everest, we knew there was nothing really special about the North or South Poles, but that didn't stop people from going there. There may be no good reason to go back to the moon, or to Mars or to one of the moons of Jupiter, but we'll go. We're driven by the same impluse that made a distant ancestor cross to the other side of the river just to see what's there.
Next clear night go outside and look at the moon, reflect that there are footprints, flags, and some decomposing junk up there and that we put it there. Consider that the same spirit that drove those space pioneers drove the Wrights to fly at Kitty Hawk. Try to imagine our world without the technologies that started with that first flight. Now try to imagine our world in a hundred years without the benefits of the technology borne of the space program. Like they say, shoot for the moon, even if you miss you land among the stars.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Merry Commercialmas
You've seen the commercials, the announcer tells you that the advertizer has the perfect gift for that special someone in your life. The perfect gift turns out to be a brand-new luxury car, and the implication is that you really don't treat that other person as particularly special unless you buy them this car, and of course if you do you're a wonderful significant other for buying what your loved one REALLY wants.
Now, I know that there are people in this country who can afford to drop 30 or 40 thousand dollars on a car as a Christmas present. I doubt that there are enough such people to keep a car company in business, year after year. The rest of us would have to take money from savings, trade in an existing car, and/or finance such a purchase. I know that if I made such a financial decision without consulting my wife beforehand I'd end up sleeping in the shed outside.
I wonder sometimes if we've forgotten what this gift giving thing is all about. Did Melchior go into debt for a year to supply the gold in an effort to win the approval of the newborn King? Did Balthasar see an advertizement telling him that frankincense was the perfect give for that special Savior? Did Caspar buy Myrrh in an effort to make as good an impression as the other two Magi? Did they keep asking "Are we there yet?" as they followed the star to Bethlehem? I doubt it, I think the three Magi (or wise men, or kings if you prefer) brought their gifts as an offering of love, freely and cheerfully offered to the One whose devoted servants they were. The gifts were just a symbol of the love and devotion they felt. As in the wonderful story of the Little Drummer Boy if they had no gift that was worth money they could have offered the one gift that matters, the gift of themselves.
I have, in my jewelry box at home, a ring made of stainless steel. It belonged to my mother. She had it as long as I can remember. My father made it for her when he was unemployed and couldn't afford a present for her, he got a stainless steel nut, drilled it out to fit her finger, ground and filed it down, filed a design into it, and gave it to her as a present. Total monetary value, pennies. Total sentimental value, priceless. Remember this next time you go out shopping for people you don't like, spending money you don't have on gifts they won't like.
Now, I know that there are people in this country who can afford to drop 30 or 40 thousand dollars on a car as a Christmas present. I doubt that there are enough such people to keep a car company in business, year after year. The rest of us would have to take money from savings, trade in an existing car, and/or finance such a purchase. I know that if I made such a financial decision without consulting my wife beforehand I'd end up sleeping in the shed outside.
I wonder sometimes if we've forgotten what this gift giving thing is all about. Did Melchior go into debt for a year to supply the gold in an effort to win the approval of the newborn King? Did Balthasar see an advertizement telling him that frankincense was the perfect give for that special Savior? Did Caspar buy Myrrh in an effort to make as good an impression as the other two Magi? Did they keep asking "Are we there yet?" as they followed the star to Bethlehem? I doubt it, I think the three Magi (or wise men, or kings if you prefer) brought their gifts as an offering of love, freely and cheerfully offered to the One whose devoted servants they were. The gifts were just a symbol of the love and devotion they felt. As in the wonderful story of the Little Drummer Boy if they had no gift that was worth money they could have offered the one gift that matters, the gift of themselves.
I have, in my jewelry box at home, a ring made of stainless steel. It belonged to my mother. She had it as long as I can remember. My father made it for her when he was unemployed and couldn't afford a present for her, he got a stainless steel nut, drilled it out to fit her finger, ground and filed it down, filed a design into it, and gave it to her as a present. Total monetary value, pennies. Total sentimental value, priceless. Remember this next time you go out shopping for people you don't like, spending money you don't have on gifts they won't like.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Christmas Shopping
Well, my wife and I went Christmas shopping this morning, we were at the mall by 7:30 and left at about 11:00. I actually got most of my shopping done in this one trip. Of course I only buy for one person, my wife, she buys for everyone else. Hmmm, I see a future blog entry on division of labor in a marriage.
Being a man shopping in the women's section of Macy's can be a rough experience. First off, the store isn't arranged properly. You want to see a properly arranged store, go to a hardware store. All the toilet parts are here, all the paint is there, light switches over there and mail boxes in another aisle. Imagine if hardware stores were laid out like Macy's and you went there looking for a shovel. OK, here's a shovel, next to a rake and a hammer. Then in the next aisle is another shovel, next to a circular saw and a power drill. Two aisles over is a third shovel, next to that one is a set of files and a motion-sensing light fixture. Why aren't the shovels together? Because the whole store is arranged by manufacturer! Each shovel is next to other items made by the same company, so if you want to find a particular type of shovel (say a garden spade or a snow shovel) you either have to know who makes that type of shovel or you wander around the whole store looking for it. Is it any wonder men don't like shopping, except in sensible places like hardware stores, gun shops, and sporting-goods stores?
Don't even get me started on "miss's" vs "women's" (I just learned this one today, I hope I got the right one! Well, that's why I get gift receipts, right?) And we won't even begin to discuss the helpful sales person (who looks to be about the same age as my CAR) who can't figure out the change if she punches the wrong amount received into the computerized cash register and has to cancel the order and ring the whole thing up again. This thankfully didn't happen today, but it's happened in the past.
No, I'm not saying what I bought for my wife for Christmas, she reads my blog. Stay tuned!
Being a man shopping in the women's section of Macy's can be a rough experience. First off, the store isn't arranged properly. You want to see a properly arranged store, go to a hardware store. All the toilet parts are here, all the paint is there, light switches over there and mail boxes in another aisle. Imagine if hardware stores were laid out like Macy's and you went there looking for a shovel. OK, here's a shovel, next to a rake and a hammer. Then in the next aisle is another shovel, next to a circular saw and a power drill. Two aisles over is a third shovel, next to that one is a set of files and a motion-sensing light fixture. Why aren't the shovels together? Because the whole store is arranged by manufacturer! Each shovel is next to other items made by the same company, so if you want to find a particular type of shovel (say a garden spade or a snow shovel) you either have to know who makes that type of shovel or you wander around the whole store looking for it. Is it any wonder men don't like shopping, except in sensible places like hardware stores, gun shops, and sporting-goods stores?
Don't even get me started on "miss's" vs "women's" (I just learned this one today, I hope I got the right one! Well, that's why I get gift receipts, right?) And we won't even begin to discuss the helpful sales person (who looks to be about the same age as my CAR) who can't figure out the change if she punches the wrong amount received into the computerized cash register and has to cancel the order and ring the whole thing up again. This thankfully didn't happen today, but it's happened in the past.
No, I'm not saying what I bought for my wife for Christmas, she reads my blog. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Day of Infamy
Today is December 7th, 2005, the 64th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Have you thanked a veteran lately?
Remember, the Greatest Generation is dying off rapidly, get their stories NOW while you still can. People who were 18 in 1941 are 82 now.
One thing that has always struck me is that the men who served in World War II were just ordinary men. My Dad's last job before he was disabled was as a crane operator. I knew a man who was a Pearl Harbor survivor, he sold costume jewelry at the local indoor flea market. I met a vet last Memorial Day in Cape May, NJ, he was selling a book of poems he's written over the years. Men who did the job they had to do, then went home, picked up their lives, got jobs, and started families.
Have you thanked a veteran lately?
Remember, the Greatest Generation is dying off rapidly, get their stories NOW while you still can. People who were 18 in 1941 are 82 now.
One thing that has always struck me is that the men who served in World War II were just ordinary men. My Dad's last job before he was disabled was as a crane operator. I knew a man who was a Pearl Harbor survivor, he sold costume jewelry at the local indoor flea market. I met a vet last Memorial Day in Cape May, NJ, he was selling a book of poems he's written over the years. Men who did the job they had to do, then went home, picked up their lives, got jobs, and started families.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
This Is My Rifle.....
there are many like it but this one is mine! Hoo boy, is THAT an understatement, it's a Mosin Nagant 91/30, built in 1938 in the Izhevsk arsenal in Russia. It's all matching, with matching bayonet and a cleaning kit and sling.
My wife took me out yesterday to pick out my Christmas present, I knew I wanted a military surplus rifle and I was pretty sure I wanted either a Mosin Nagant or a Mauser. The Mausers in my price range here pretty beat up and the Mosins all looked like they hadn't been fired in 60 years, in fact they probably haven't been.
I have to give her a good cleaning, get some ammo (Sarco was out) and get her to the range.
Since I tend to name things like cars and guns, I'm also thinking of a name for her. Something common, tough and reliable, something that will bring up images of a peasant woman in a babushka in the fields. Of course the name will be female!
Friday, December 02, 2005
Dad's Stories - Part 3
Insert my usual disclaimer here.
Dad was a Marine during and after World War II. He was stationed on the island of Peleliu in the South Pacific. From there he went to Japan, and from there to China. Here are a couple stories from his time there.
The Marines on Peleliu were given, among other things, a fishing spear head to be used to occupy themselves. The head had three prongs (picture King Neptune's spear). They had to supply the handle themselves. Someone noticed that the threads in the spear head matched the threads on the radio antennas on the jeep-mounted radios, which caused some consternation when the radio needed to be used. Being a civic minded guy (ha!) as well as being handy, Dad set up shop making handles for the spears out of scraps of pipe or whatever he could scrounge. He'd also add barps to the prongs by flattening the metal out a bit then filing it to a point and barb. His fee was either a six-pack or a bottle of scotch. The brass was happy because the radio attennas stayed where they belonged, the other Marines were happy because they had fishing spears and the barbs kept the fish from being lost, and Dad was happy because he had a supply of beer or scotch. Capitalism at work!
My Dad also had no fear of heights at all, I can recall that about him. Well it seemed the airfield on Peleliu had some sort of mast, for radio or radar or whatever I don't recall. The mast had a ladder going up the side of it, and it had a light bulb on top. Since Murphy was definitely in the military, the bulb burned out. As I recall it wasn't the Marine's reponsibility to replace the bulb (I don't recall who "owned" the mast though), but no one who's responsibility it was would climb the ladder to replace it because it was too high. His Colonel (for whom Dad was orderly), always looking for a way to stick it to another branch of service, said he knew someone who'd climb up there for a price. The Colonel told my Dad that he'd get a bottle of scotch for doing this. Negotiations ensued, and the final price was a case of scotch.
The Japanese interpreter for my Dad's unit was a guy from someplace in the deep South, Dad swore that he spoke Japanese with a Southern accent. One day a Marine had been out scrounging on the island and found a cave full of bottles with Japanese labels. He brought the bottle to the interpreter, hoping it was saki or something similar. Upon reading the label the interpreter asked the scrounger where he found it, and HOW he found it. He replied that he was searching a cave using his cigarette lighter for light and found several cases of these bottles. It turned out that the bottles contained something very similar to napalm.
Later on after the war my Dad was stationed in China. He was with the communications unit, he was a lineman. He and his buddies got the job of removing some old phone lines, and he drew a line that was attached to a pole in the middle of a rice paddy. As he climbed the pole (using gaffs and a belt) he noticed that the pole was wobbly. When he got to the top and started detaching wires he realized that the lines were the only thing holding the pole up. Realizing that he was headed for a splash-down, he removed the belt so that when the pole fell he could get away from it, and as he detached the last wire the pole fell and he landed in the rice paddy. If you've never seen a rice paddy or pictures of one, it looks like a swamp with one notable difference, it's fertilized. It's fertilized with human waste. His buddies made him ride back to base on the bumper of the jeep.
While in China the Marines were paid in American money, and the exchange rate was incredible. I recall him telling me it was something like 20,000 Chinese dollars to one American dollar. A lot of the Marines got tatoos, but my Dad never liked needles so instead he had an eagle embroidered on the back of one of his jackets by one of the old men in the area. Upon asking the price he was told ten dollars, he asked if that was ten dollars American or Chinese, and the price was ten dollars Chinese. He gave the man a couple American dollars which made him extremely happy.
Dad was a Marine during and after World War II. He was stationed on the island of Peleliu in the South Pacific. From there he went to Japan, and from there to China. Here are a couple stories from his time there.
The Marines on Peleliu were given, among other things, a fishing spear head to be used to occupy themselves. The head had three prongs (picture King Neptune's spear). They had to supply the handle themselves. Someone noticed that the threads in the spear head matched the threads on the radio antennas on the jeep-mounted radios, which caused some consternation when the radio needed to be used. Being a civic minded guy (ha!) as well as being handy, Dad set up shop making handles for the spears out of scraps of pipe or whatever he could scrounge. He'd also add barps to the prongs by flattening the metal out a bit then filing it to a point and barb. His fee was either a six-pack or a bottle of scotch. The brass was happy because the radio attennas stayed where they belonged, the other Marines were happy because they had fishing spears and the barbs kept the fish from being lost, and Dad was happy because he had a supply of beer or scotch. Capitalism at work!
My Dad also had no fear of heights at all, I can recall that about him. Well it seemed the airfield on Peleliu had some sort of mast, for radio or radar or whatever I don't recall. The mast had a ladder going up the side of it, and it had a light bulb on top. Since Murphy was definitely in the military, the bulb burned out. As I recall it wasn't the Marine's reponsibility to replace the bulb (I don't recall who "owned" the mast though), but no one who's responsibility it was would climb the ladder to replace it because it was too high. His Colonel (for whom Dad was orderly), always looking for a way to stick it to another branch of service, said he knew someone who'd climb up there for a price. The Colonel told my Dad that he'd get a bottle of scotch for doing this. Negotiations ensued, and the final price was a case of scotch.
The Japanese interpreter for my Dad's unit was a guy from someplace in the deep South, Dad swore that he spoke Japanese with a Southern accent. One day a Marine had been out scrounging on the island and found a cave full of bottles with Japanese labels. He brought the bottle to the interpreter, hoping it was saki or something similar. Upon reading the label the interpreter asked the scrounger where he found it, and HOW he found it. He replied that he was searching a cave using his cigarette lighter for light and found several cases of these bottles. It turned out that the bottles contained something very similar to napalm.
Later on after the war my Dad was stationed in China. He was with the communications unit, he was a lineman. He and his buddies got the job of removing some old phone lines, and he drew a line that was attached to a pole in the middle of a rice paddy. As he climbed the pole (using gaffs and a belt) he noticed that the pole was wobbly. When he got to the top and started detaching wires he realized that the lines were the only thing holding the pole up. Realizing that he was headed for a splash-down, he removed the belt so that when the pole fell he could get away from it, and as he detached the last wire the pole fell and he landed in the rice paddy. If you've never seen a rice paddy or pictures of one, it looks like a swamp with one notable difference, it's fertilized. It's fertilized with human waste. His buddies made him ride back to base on the bumper of the jeep.
While in China the Marines were paid in American money, and the exchange rate was incredible. I recall him telling me it was something like 20,000 Chinese dollars to one American dollar. A lot of the Marines got tatoos, but my Dad never liked needles so instead he had an eagle embroidered on the back of one of his jackets by one of the old men in the area. Upon asking the price he was told ten dollars, he asked if that was ten dollars American or Chinese, and the price was ten dollars Chinese. He gave the man a couple American dollars which made him extremely happy.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Rifles and Riflemen
I've done target shooting with handguns for quite a few years, and for the last year or so I've given serious thought to getting a rifle. This brought up the topic of just why I want to learn to shoot a rifle, so I thought I'd share my ruminations with the rest of the world (or at least that small portion that actually reads my blog!).
The unenlightened have an idea of your average shooter as a knuckle-dragging red-neck who thrives on destruction and lives for the day the UN invades the US so he can plug some blue helmets. I've known quite a few avid shooters and have yet to meet one that fits that description. Quite the opposite, the majority of shooters I've known have been intelligent, polite, and all-around decent people. The overall percentage of nutcases is, in my experience, considerably smaller than that of the general population.
If there's one trait common to the truly good shooters I've known it's been confidence. Not bravado, just quiet confidence that the world won't throw anything at them that they can't handle. They get this confidence thru self mastery. The Marine Corp's Rifleman's Creed states "I must master it (my rifle) as I must master my life". To a great extent the two go together, mastery of a rifle and mastery of yourself go hand-in-hand.
Shooting is conceptually very simple, line up the sights, hold still, squeeze the trigger. It sounds easy until you try it, then you realize that your body is a bag of fluid held up by a framework that has every connection lubricated. You realize that the slightest movement will affect your aim. Making the weapon fire at the appropriate time requires you to hold as still as possible AND squeeze the trigger only when the sights are on target.
Self control isn't popular these days. People assume that a competent shot is a risk to "go postal" and commit mayhem over the slightest annoyance. We have people talking of shoot-outs over traffic accidents. The truth is the exact opposite, the competent shooter knows he has live-or-death power over anything in range and has enough self control to know that he won't unleash that power except in the gravest extreme. The expert shooter when faced with petty annoyances is in the same situation as if he didn't have a weapon, he won't resort to violence because he knows it's inappropriate and immoral. He's in the same situation as the devoted husband when he comes in contact with another woman, he knows he won't do what he shouldn't, he doesn't WANT to.
The rifleman knows that just because he's capable of doing something, that doesn't mean he will do it. It doesn't even mean he WANTS to do it. Thinking that a rifleman, or any other gun owner, looks forward to the day he has to shoot someone is the same as thinking that a person who knows CPR looks forward to the day someone has a heart attack in his presence. If it happens he's prepared, if not so much the better.
Beyond the skills and self mastery required to move from the status of "owner of a rifle" to "rifleman", there's something about rifles that's interesting and intriguing. Some people would claim that's because I grew up in a gun-free home, but I've noticed the same interest among people who grew up around rifles, have shot rifles since childhood, and currently own dozens of rifles. There's something about a rifle that not even a handgun has. The only other inanimate object I can think of that excites such emotion in an owner is a car. Pick up a well-made rifle, hold it, feel its weight and balance. Look at the way metal and wood are fit together. Notice the way metal moves against metal, observe the way springs, cams, and levers all work together. Consider the intense heat and pressure the chamber and barrel are designed to contain, not once or twice, but thousands of times over the useful life of the weapon. Consider the barrel, accurately machined to within thousandths of an inch. All designed to send a tiny projectile a great distance into a target of the shooters choosing. All so well made that if the shot misses its intended target the most likely cause is shooter error.
When you think about it rifles are truly incredible machines. A rifle built over a hundred years ago is every bit as effective for the job it was designed for as one built this year. Compare a Mauser built in the last quarter of the 19th century with a brand-new, still in the box Remington offering. Assuming the Mauser has been properly maintained and not abused it will do anything you could ask the Remington to do, and if you notice any difference in performance it'll likely be the Mauser on top.
So Christmas is fast approaching and my wife has agreed that a rifle will be The Gift for me this year. That won't make me a rifleman, it'll merely mark the first step, I'll be a rifle owner. That whole mastery of my life thing is intimidating, but it's essential. I'll let you know how it goes.
The unenlightened have an idea of your average shooter as a knuckle-dragging red-neck who thrives on destruction and lives for the day the UN invades the US so he can plug some blue helmets. I've known quite a few avid shooters and have yet to meet one that fits that description. Quite the opposite, the majority of shooters I've known have been intelligent, polite, and all-around decent people. The overall percentage of nutcases is, in my experience, considerably smaller than that of the general population.
If there's one trait common to the truly good shooters I've known it's been confidence. Not bravado, just quiet confidence that the world won't throw anything at them that they can't handle. They get this confidence thru self mastery. The Marine Corp's Rifleman's Creed states "I must master it (my rifle) as I must master my life". To a great extent the two go together, mastery of a rifle and mastery of yourself go hand-in-hand.
Shooting is conceptually very simple, line up the sights, hold still, squeeze the trigger. It sounds easy until you try it, then you realize that your body is a bag of fluid held up by a framework that has every connection lubricated. You realize that the slightest movement will affect your aim. Making the weapon fire at the appropriate time requires you to hold as still as possible AND squeeze the trigger only when the sights are on target.
Self control isn't popular these days. People assume that a competent shot is a risk to "go postal" and commit mayhem over the slightest annoyance. We have people talking of shoot-outs over traffic accidents. The truth is the exact opposite, the competent shooter knows he has live-or-death power over anything in range and has enough self control to know that he won't unleash that power except in the gravest extreme. The expert shooter when faced with petty annoyances is in the same situation as if he didn't have a weapon, he won't resort to violence because he knows it's inappropriate and immoral. He's in the same situation as the devoted husband when he comes in contact with another woman, he knows he won't do what he shouldn't, he doesn't WANT to.
The rifleman knows that just because he's capable of doing something, that doesn't mean he will do it. It doesn't even mean he WANTS to do it. Thinking that a rifleman, or any other gun owner, looks forward to the day he has to shoot someone is the same as thinking that a person who knows CPR looks forward to the day someone has a heart attack in his presence. If it happens he's prepared, if not so much the better.
Beyond the skills and self mastery required to move from the status of "owner of a rifle" to "rifleman", there's something about rifles that's interesting and intriguing. Some people would claim that's because I grew up in a gun-free home, but I've noticed the same interest among people who grew up around rifles, have shot rifles since childhood, and currently own dozens of rifles. There's something about a rifle that not even a handgun has. The only other inanimate object I can think of that excites such emotion in an owner is a car. Pick up a well-made rifle, hold it, feel its weight and balance. Look at the way metal and wood are fit together. Notice the way metal moves against metal, observe the way springs, cams, and levers all work together. Consider the intense heat and pressure the chamber and barrel are designed to contain, not once or twice, but thousands of times over the useful life of the weapon. Consider the barrel, accurately machined to within thousandths of an inch. All designed to send a tiny projectile a great distance into a target of the shooters choosing. All so well made that if the shot misses its intended target the most likely cause is shooter error.
When you think about it rifles are truly incredible machines. A rifle built over a hundred years ago is every bit as effective for the job it was designed for as one built this year. Compare a Mauser built in the last quarter of the 19th century with a brand-new, still in the box Remington offering. Assuming the Mauser has been properly maintained and not abused it will do anything you could ask the Remington to do, and if you notice any difference in performance it'll likely be the Mauser on top.
So Christmas is fast approaching and my wife has agreed that a rifle will be The Gift for me this year. That won't make me a rifleman, it'll merely mark the first step, I'll be a rifle owner. That whole mastery of my life thing is intimidating, but it's essential. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Dad's Stories - Part 2
Since both of my faithful readers enjoyed Dad's Stories - Part 1 I thought I'd follow with part 2. As with last time I make no claims for the actual truth of this story, and only say that it's either true or it ought to be.
When my Dad was a young man (probably a teenager) he lived in Hoboken, NJ and worked in a ship yard there. His foreman was a man by the name of Dave McGillary (I have no idea if I'm spelling his name correctly, I'm spelling as best I can from my memory of how Dad pronounced it). Dave wore a jacket and tie complete with starched collars to work every day. Every morning he'd come in, look up, examine the weather, and proclaim "'T ain't bad out today." It didn't matter what the weather actually was, raining, snowing, cold, hot, foggy, sunny, the weather was classified as "'t aint bad".
One day my Dad and his friends/co-workers were proving the axiom that one boy is half a man while two boys are no man at all, they were amusing themselves by dumping buckets of water from the Hudson river on each other from higher levels of wherever they were working. (I suspect the soakings Dad got from this had a lot to do with his robust immune system later in life.) My Dad knew they were waiting to get him once he went thru a doorway so he went around the other way to get into the shop area he needed to work in without his friends seeing him. His friends dumped the water on the first person to walk thru the door, who happened to be Dave McGillary. Picture a man in jacket and tie getting soaked with filthy Hudson river water, he starched collars curling up as the water soaked in. Dad made himself look "as busy as a cat covering poop on a tin roof" (Dad didn't use the word "poop", but you get the idea.) Dave pointed to him and said "Harold, if you weren't standing right in front of me when I got soaked I'd blame you!" and went off to find the miscreants.
When my Dad was a young man (probably a teenager) he lived in Hoboken, NJ and worked in a ship yard there. His foreman was a man by the name of Dave McGillary (I have no idea if I'm spelling his name correctly, I'm spelling as best I can from my memory of how Dad pronounced it). Dave wore a jacket and tie complete with starched collars to work every day. Every morning he'd come in, look up, examine the weather, and proclaim "'T ain't bad out today." It didn't matter what the weather actually was, raining, snowing, cold, hot, foggy, sunny, the weather was classified as "'t aint bad".
One day my Dad and his friends/co-workers were proving the axiom that one boy is half a man while two boys are no man at all, they were amusing themselves by dumping buckets of water from the Hudson river on each other from higher levels of wherever they were working. (I suspect the soakings Dad got from this had a lot to do with his robust immune system later in life.) My Dad knew they were waiting to get him once he went thru a doorway so he went around the other way to get into the shop area he needed to work in without his friends seeing him. His friends dumped the water on the first person to walk thru the door, who happened to be Dave McGillary. Picture a man in jacket and tie getting soaked with filthy Hudson river water, he starched collars curling up as the water soaked in. Dad made himself look "as busy as a cat covering poop on a tin roof" (Dad didn't use the word "poop", but you get the idea.) Dave pointed to him and said "Harold, if you weren't standing right in front of me when I got soaked I'd blame you!" and went off to find the miscreants.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Dad's Stories - Part 1
My father (who died in 1988) was an avid story teller. He would entertain me endlessly with his stories. Dad, as with most story tellers, never let little things like facts interfere with a good story. I thought I'd reproduce some of his stories here. I make no claims as to their truthfulness, nor that I even remember them correctly, only that they're as close as I can recall to the stories he told me.
At some point before I came along my Dad worked with two guys named Carl and Monk. Carl is a pretty shadowy figure, but Monk was bigger than life and a great number of Dad's stories revolved around him. For this first installment I thought I'd offer a Monk story.
First, a bit about Monk. Monk was a nickname (duh!), I know my Dad told me his real name at some point but I've long since forgotten it. His friends called him Monk because he looked like a gorilla, medium height but broad and strong, with more hair on his back than most men have on their heads. Dad claimed Monk was the strongest man he ever met, that Monk could chin himself from ceiling joists, holding on from underneath by his fingertips.
Dad, Monk and Carl were merchant seamen. When their ship was in port they'd room together, if the ship was in for overhaul or repairs they'd get jobs. At one such time they had a furnished apartment and had jobs on a late shift. Their landlord was cheap, he'd turn off the heat at night, so when the three guys came home is was cold enough to see their breath in their apartment. Well one evening Monk said he wasn't going to work, he wasn't feeling well. When Dad and Carl got home Monk informed them that he'd found them a new, better place to stay. Monk had even packed their belongings for them and had them waiting for them, Dad and Carl didn't even have to go into their old apartment, they just grabbed their stuff and went off to their new place. All went well until they received a letter to appear in court, it seemed their former landlord was suing them for damages to the apartment. It seemed that Monk had painted the apartment before they moved out. It further seemed that he'd painted it black. Further evidence showed that the black paint he used was paint he'd gotten from the shipyard and was meant for painting the stacks on the ships. This paint was apparently about the consistency of tar, and it was on the walls, the wood work, even the kitchen cabinets. The only way to get this stuff off the walls would be to burn the place down.
Upon appearing in court, Monk produced a contract that he'd made with the landlord. He told the landlord he wanted to paint the apartment at his own expense to cheer the place up. The landlord, cheap as he was, jumped at the chance to get his place painted for free. He signed a contract giving Monk permission to paint the apartment "any color he liked". Monk told the judge "Your honor, I like black." Case dismissed.
Is this story true? In the spirit of Winston Churchill, of course it's true, or it ought to be, and more and better besides.
At some point before I came along my Dad worked with two guys named Carl and Monk. Carl is a pretty shadowy figure, but Monk was bigger than life and a great number of Dad's stories revolved around him. For this first installment I thought I'd offer a Monk story.
First, a bit about Monk. Monk was a nickname (duh!), I know my Dad told me his real name at some point but I've long since forgotten it. His friends called him Monk because he looked like a gorilla, medium height but broad and strong, with more hair on his back than most men have on their heads. Dad claimed Monk was the strongest man he ever met, that Monk could chin himself from ceiling joists, holding on from underneath by his fingertips.
Dad, Monk and Carl were merchant seamen. When their ship was in port they'd room together, if the ship was in for overhaul or repairs they'd get jobs. At one such time they had a furnished apartment and had jobs on a late shift. Their landlord was cheap, he'd turn off the heat at night, so when the three guys came home is was cold enough to see their breath in their apartment. Well one evening Monk said he wasn't going to work, he wasn't feeling well. When Dad and Carl got home Monk informed them that he'd found them a new, better place to stay. Monk had even packed their belongings for them and had them waiting for them, Dad and Carl didn't even have to go into their old apartment, they just grabbed their stuff and went off to their new place. All went well until they received a letter to appear in court, it seemed their former landlord was suing them for damages to the apartment. It seemed that Monk had painted the apartment before they moved out. It further seemed that he'd painted it black. Further evidence showed that the black paint he used was paint he'd gotten from the shipyard and was meant for painting the stacks on the ships. This paint was apparently about the consistency of tar, and it was on the walls, the wood work, even the kitchen cabinets. The only way to get this stuff off the walls would be to burn the place down.
Upon appearing in court, Monk produced a contract that he'd made with the landlord. He told the landlord he wanted to paint the apartment at his own expense to cheer the place up. The landlord, cheap as he was, jumped at the chance to get his place painted for free. He signed a contract giving Monk permission to paint the apartment "any color he liked". Monk told the judge "Your honor, I like black." Case dismissed.
Is this story true? In the spirit of Winston Churchill, of course it's true, or it ought to be, and more and better besides.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Winning the War on Terror
For the last few months the NYC police have been conducting random searches of people’s bags as they enter the subway system. The stated purpose of these searches is to stop suicide bombers before they get into the subway. I’m opposed to these searches on a number of levels, they violate our civil rights, they cause delays, and I don’t for a moment think they’ll be effective at preventing a suicide bombing. I’m taking up this subject from a different angle though, I’m also opposed to them because I don’t believe they’re an effective part of winning the War on Terror.
Over the past couple of decades we’ve been repeatedly attacked by Islamic terrorists. The first World Trade Center bombing, the USS Cole, 9/11 and other attacks were attacks against American interests. I don’t believe that these attacks were in response to anything America has done, they’re attacks against who we ARE. The terrorist leaders don’t just want us to stop supporting Israel or apologize for the Crusades (where, you may note, Americans were incredibly under-represented!). They want us either dead or subject to them. Let me repeat that, they want us either DEAD or SUBJECT to THEM.
There may be people who will say that if those are our options we should just give in to them, it’s better to be alive in bondage than dead in freedom. Even ignoring the fact that that would require a conversion to Islam (since I’m a Christian such a conversion is absolutely out of the question for me), let me say right now that if you believe that I have nothing more to say to you so get off my property, now.
There is a third choice though, other than death or subjection. That choice is Victory. It’s the only choice really, the other two options above are simply unthinkable. Since we’re at war, how do we fight and how do we win?
Fortunately for us (especially for me since I’m writing this entry) history provides us with a picture of a very similar enemy, an enemy that wanted to conquer the world. An enemy that raised up a generation of people who wanted only to be a part of that conquest even if they had to die to do it. An enemy who believed that they were being led into a war by their god and that death in such an endeavor was truly glorious. An enemy who raised up people who were willing to fly planes full of explosives into American ships and other targets. That enemy was Japan during World War II. The comparison between the Japanese Kamikaze pilot and the Moslem suicide bomber is truly chilling.
When I mention the Kamikaze pilots and suicide bombers I need to make it clear that these are only the very last parts of a long string, they’re the point of the spear. American gunners on American ships found that knocking out a Kamikaze was extremely difficult, they actually had to disable the plane enough that it could no longer fly. The pilot wasn’t going to break off his attack so he could bail out if his plane was damaged. He wasn’t going to break off if the antiaircraft fire was too heavy for him to get thru without being injured or his plane damaged too badly to return to base. He wasn’t supposed to return to base, to do so would have been failure. We’ll have similar problems with suicide bombers in the subway. If there’s a checkpoint they’ll simply leave and get into the subway some other way. If they can’t they’ll just push the button while surrounded by the police and the other passengers who are waiting to get thru the turnstiles.
We didn’t stop the Kamikaze pilots by shooting down their airplanes after they were loaded, fueled and airborne. We stopped them by destroying the support system that provided them with a plane, fuel and explosives. We’re not going to stop suicide bombers from killing people once they have their supply of explosives and their orders. We’re going to stop them by destroying their chain of command, by wiping out the high-level terrorists who are making the plans and giving the orders. We’re going to stop them by finding their sources of funding and eliminating them. The police who are looking thru passenger’s bags in the subway could be making raids on terror cells. The money spent on those police could be spent on intelligence to identify those cells.
Finally, we’re going to beat the terrorists the same way we beat Japan. We’re going to prove to them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is a war they can not and will not win. We probably won’t do it by dropping atomic bombs on cities because terrorism isn’t geographic. We will do it by systematically destroying the high level commanders of the terrorists AND by showing the very people the suicide bombers are recruited from that the ideology offered by their leaders is deeply flawed and that there IS another way to live. Our job is not just one of destruction, it’s one of rebuilding. We helped make Japan into a nation that values hard work, a nation that is arguably the most Capitalist nation in the world right now. Japan learned that they don’t need to conquer the world, if they make enough money they can buy whatever they want FROM the rest of the world. We can do the same thing in the Middle East. We’re doing it right now, in Afghanistan and in Iraq.
Just like in Japan, it won’t happen overnight. World War II ended almost twenty years before I was born and Japan became a true economic and industrial power within my memory. When I was a kid I had a choice between two radios, a quality American made one or Japanese made junk at half the price. If I bought the Japanese one it would probably break within a month. Compare that to today’s situation.
Imagine in 25 years an Al Qaida representative going to a young man in Mosul and saying “I want you to put on this backpack, go into that building, and blow yourself up.” The young Iraqi will reply “Sorry, I’m on my way to pick up my new Mercedes!”. To the promise “But you’ll get 72 virgins!” he replies “Have you SEEN what a Mercedes will attract?”
If we give the people of the Middle East real hope they won't fall for the lies of their leaders. We know that even the leaders know their promises are lies because if they actually believed them they'd be out there blowing themselves up instead of sending the poor, downtrodden and utterly hopeless to do their dirty work. The young person who now has to choose between a dismal and miserable life here and a promised life of luxury is likely to fall for the lie. The same person, offered luxury HERE won't be so quick to give it up for a lie. On that day Al Qaida will be out of business.
Over the past couple of decades we’ve been repeatedly attacked by Islamic terrorists. The first World Trade Center bombing, the USS Cole, 9/11 and other attacks were attacks against American interests. I don’t believe that these attacks were in response to anything America has done, they’re attacks against who we ARE. The terrorist leaders don’t just want us to stop supporting Israel or apologize for the Crusades (where, you may note, Americans were incredibly under-represented!). They want us either dead or subject to them. Let me repeat that, they want us either DEAD or SUBJECT to THEM.
There may be people who will say that if those are our options we should just give in to them, it’s better to be alive in bondage than dead in freedom. Even ignoring the fact that that would require a conversion to Islam (since I’m a Christian such a conversion is absolutely out of the question for me), let me say right now that if you believe that I have nothing more to say to you so get off my property, now.
There is a third choice though, other than death or subjection. That choice is Victory. It’s the only choice really, the other two options above are simply unthinkable. Since we’re at war, how do we fight and how do we win?
Fortunately for us (especially for me since I’m writing this entry) history provides us with a picture of a very similar enemy, an enemy that wanted to conquer the world. An enemy that raised up a generation of people who wanted only to be a part of that conquest even if they had to die to do it. An enemy who believed that they were being led into a war by their god and that death in such an endeavor was truly glorious. An enemy who raised up people who were willing to fly planes full of explosives into American ships and other targets. That enemy was Japan during World War II. The comparison between the Japanese Kamikaze pilot and the Moslem suicide bomber is truly chilling.
When I mention the Kamikaze pilots and suicide bombers I need to make it clear that these are only the very last parts of a long string, they’re the point of the spear. American gunners on American ships found that knocking out a Kamikaze was extremely difficult, they actually had to disable the plane enough that it could no longer fly. The pilot wasn’t going to break off his attack so he could bail out if his plane was damaged. He wasn’t going to break off if the antiaircraft fire was too heavy for him to get thru without being injured or his plane damaged too badly to return to base. He wasn’t supposed to return to base, to do so would have been failure. We’ll have similar problems with suicide bombers in the subway. If there’s a checkpoint they’ll simply leave and get into the subway some other way. If they can’t they’ll just push the button while surrounded by the police and the other passengers who are waiting to get thru the turnstiles.
We didn’t stop the Kamikaze pilots by shooting down their airplanes after they were loaded, fueled and airborne. We stopped them by destroying the support system that provided them with a plane, fuel and explosives. We’re not going to stop suicide bombers from killing people once they have their supply of explosives and their orders. We’re going to stop them by destroying their chain of command, by wiping out the high-level terrorists who are making the plans and giving the orders. We’re going to stop them by finding their sources of funding and eliminating them. The police who are looking thru passenger’s bags in the subway could be making raids on terror cells. The money spent on those police could be spent on intelligence to identify those cells.
Finally, we’re going to beat the terrorists the same way we beat Japan. We’re going to prove to them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is a war they can not and will not win. We probably won’t do it by dropping atomic bombs on cities because terrorism isn’t geographic. We will do it by systematically destroying the high level commanders of the terrorists AND by showing the very people the suicide bombers are recruited from that the ideology offered by their leaders is deeply flawed and that there IS another way to live. Our job is not just one of destruction, it’s one of rebuilding. We helped make Japan into a nation that values hard work, a nation that is arguably the most Capitalist nation in the world right now. Japan learned that they don’t need to conquer the world, if they make enough money they can buy whatever they want FROM the rest of the world. We can do the same thing in the Middle East. We’re doing it right now, in Afghanistan and in Iraq.
Just like in Japan, it won’t happen overnight. World War II ended almost twenty years before I was born and Japan became a true economic and industrial power within my memory. When I was a kid I had a choice between two radios, a quality American made one or Japanese made junk at half the price. If I bought the Japanese one it would probably break within a month. Compare that to today’s situation.
Imagine in 25 years an Al Qaida representative going to a young man in Mosul and saying “I want you to put on this backpack, go into that building, and blow yourself up.” The young Iraqi will reply “Sorry, I’m on my way to pick up my new Mercedes!”. To the promise “But you’ll get 72 virgins!” he replies “Have you SEEN what a Mercedes will attract?”
If we give the people of the Middle East real hope they won't fall for the lies of their leaders. We know that even the leaders know their promises are lies because if they actually believed them they'd be out there blowing themselves up instead of sending the poor, downtrodden and utterly hopeless to do their dirty work. The young person who now has to choose between a dismal and miserable life here and a promised life of luxury is likely to fall for the lie. The same person, offered luxury HERE won't be so quick to give it up for a lie. On that day Al Qaida will be out of business.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
The Media
OK, it's time for a quiz. One question, if you're wrong you get poked with this cattle prod. Question: What is the purpose of the media? Answer: To keep the citizens of this nation informed about current events. ZAP ouch! Answer: To provide entertainment. ZAP ouch! Answer: To numb the minds of the population so the Martians will have an easier time taking over. Hmmmmm, this has possibilities but ZAP ouch!
Any media outlet, newspaper, TV, radio, etc is a business. In any business, if you want to find out what they're doing you follow the money. If you think the 35 cents you pay for your morning newspaper is all the money the publisher makes on it you're sadly mistaken. If you watch network TV (gag!) you can watch shows starring actors and actresses who are paid millions of dollars for FREE. Where's the money? Where does the money paid to professional athletes come from? How about the money paid to newspaper writers? Magazine photographers?
Everything you're interested in in any form of media, songs on the radio, pictures of pretty girls in a magazine, news in the newspaper, the comic strips, restaurant reviews, absolutely everything is the bait to get you to the hook buried in there. That hook is the advertising. That's where the media makes its money, companies pay to run ads, the more people who are exposed to the ad the more the media outlet can charge for it.
Kinda makes you wonder about our unbiased media huh? Some years back there was a scandal in NYC involving Woody Allen, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend's adopted daughter. This story ran with front page headlines in the newspapers every day, pushing much more important news deep inside the newspaper. People criticized the newspaper for doing so, but they missed the newspaper's reason for existing. If more people will buy the newspaper with a headline about Woody, Mia, and Soon Yi than will buy it if the front page talks about a crime that was committed then the newspaper HAS to run the more productive headline. If people saw that headline, said "BFD" and walked away the next day the Allen family would could get a couple column inches on the society page.
Remember that whenever you see a news story on TV. They're not trying to help you make an informed decision on who to vote for. They're not trying to present both sides of an issue so you can make an intelligent choice. They're trying to keep your butt in your chair in front of your TV until the commercial comes on. That's the ultimate goal of all the writers, editors, producers, reporters, cameramen, right down to the girl who just brought the news anchor a glass of water.
Bias is obvious with non-news shows. Every show has a target audience, whether it's a professional sporting event, a sit-com, a crime drama or a reality show. The commercials will be for products that would be of interest to that target audience. They don't show commercials for toys during Desperate Housewives and they don't show commericals for Preparation H during the Saturday morning cartoons.
You want unbiased news? You're not going to find it. Balanced reporting that covers both sides of an issue is going to cause people who already have strong beliefs on the issue to change the channel. That's OK if those people aren't part of the advertisers demographic, they're not going to buy that product anyway. It's a disaster if the group that tunes out is the group the next set of commercials is aimed at though. So they keep a bias in the news to hook the people who are most likely to respond to the commercial.
But Mark, I really want to understand the entire issue so I can make a truly informed decision. Ah, I see you seek the path of enlightenment. In every news story you're exposed to look for the bias. It's there, trust me, just because it fits in with your political leanings doesn't mean it's not biased. Get under the bias to the actual facts. Then find another source for the same issue, find the bias again and get to the facts. Maybe the facts don't match. Keep digging, you'll finally unearth all the facts surrounding an issue, then make your decision based upon those facts.
Most of us don't do this. Most of us find a news source we believe is unbiased (meaning one we agree with) and swallow what they tell us whole. That's easy. It's also lazy. Being an informed citizen of a free nation takes work.
Everything in the media makes sense if you remember its true function, to expose you to paid advertising. Remember that, write it on the back of your hand if you have to. I'll even put new batteries in my cattle prod in case you forget.
Any media outlet, newspaper, TV, radio, etc is a business. In any business, if you want to find out what they're doing you follow the money. If you think the 35 cents you pay for your morning newspaper is all the money the publisher makes on it you're sadly mistaken. If you watch network TV (gag!) you can watch shows starring actors and actresses who are paid millions of dollars for FREE. Where's the money? Where does the money paid to professional athletes come from? How about the money paid to newspaper writers? Magazine photographers?
Everything you're interested in in any form of media, songs on the radio, pictures of pretty girls in a magazine, news in the newspaper, the comic strips, restaurant reviews, absolutely everything is the bait to get you to the hook buried in there. That hook is the advertising. That's where the media makes its money, companies pay to run ads, the more people who are exposed to the ad the more the media outlet can charge for it.
Kinda makes you wonder about our unbiased media huh? Some years back there was a scandal in NYC involving Woody Allen, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend's adopted daughter. This story ran with front page headlines in the newspapers every day, pushing much more important news deep inside the newspaper. People criticized the newspaper for doing so, but they missed the newspaper's reason for existing. If more people will buy the newspaper with a headline about Woody, Mia, and Soon Yi than will buy it if the front page talks about a crime that was committed then the newspaper HAS to run the more productive headline. If people saw that headline, said "BFD" and walked away the next day the Allen family would could get a couple column inches on the society page.
Remember that whenever you see a news story on TV. They're not trying to help you make an informed decision on who to vote for. They're not trying to present both sides of an issue so you can make an intelligent choice. They're trying to keep your butt in your chair in front of your TV until the commercial comes on. That's the ultimate goal of all the writers, editors, producers, reporters, cameramen, right down to the girl who just brought the news anchor a glass of water.
Bias is obvious with non-news shows. Every show has a target audience, whether it's a professional sporting event, a sit-com, a crime drama or a reality show. The commercials will be for products that would be of interest to that target audience. They don't show commercials for toys during Desperate Housewives and they don't show commericals for Preparation H during the Saturday morning cartoons.
You want unbiased news? You're not going to find it. Balanced reporting that covers both sides of an issue is going to cause people who already have strong beliefs on the issue to change the channel. That's OK if those people aren't part of the advertisers demographic, they're not going to buy that product anyway. It's a disaster if the group that tunes out is the group the next set of commercials is aimed at though. So they keep a bias in the news to hook the people who are most likely to respond to the commercial.
But Mark, I really want to understand the entire issue so I can make a truly informed decision. Ah, I see you seek the path of enlightenment. In every news story you're exposed to look for the bias. It's there, trust me, just because it fits in with your political leanings doesn't mean it's not biased. Get under the bias to the actual facts. Then find another source for the same issue, find the bias again and get to the facts. Maybe the facts don't match. Keep digging, you'll finally unearth all the facts surrounding an issue, then make your decision based upon those facts.
Most of us don't do this. Most of us find a news source we believe is unbiased (meaning one we agree with) and swallow what they tell us whole. That's easy. It's also lazy. Being an informed citizen of a free nation takes work.
Everything in the media makes sense if you remember its true function, to expose you to paid advertising. Remember that, write it on the back of your hand if you have to. I'll even put new batteries in my cattle prod in case you forget.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Voting
Next Tuesday is Election Day. That day I, and my fellow New Jerseyans will be selecting our new Governor, among other elected officials. Voting is ALWAYS a selection of a lesser of two evils. The best possible candidate for any position never actually runs for the job, so we're left with people who actually WANT the job. Generally their reasons have nothing to do with an honest desire to make NJ a better place to live. They're after the goose that lays the golden eggs of political power. I said in an earlier posting that when you elect someone to office you give them immense power, that power is like a drug for some people, the more they have the more they want.
But back to NJ. Next Tuesday I'll choose between two major-party candidates and a number of third-party candidates. I don't trust any of the candidates, but I don't trust any elected official, especially not the ones I vote for. I always cast my vote with the understanding that the candidate made promises to me in return for my vote and that if said promises are not met then next time my vote may well go elsewhere.
So who will I vote for? I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll offer some of my thought processes. Of the two major-party candidates I completely dispise one of them and merely intensely dislike the other. There actually was a candidate in the primary who I liked and would have voted for, but he didn't win the primary. How about a third party? I voted for Ross Perot because I thought that as a businessman he'd bring a level of financial responsibility to our nation. I was misguided. I was misguided first in believing that such issues were the most important and second in believing he actually had a chance of winning. Live and learn, die and forget it all. There is no third party candidate in NJ who stands the slightest chance of winning, period.
But Mark, if you dislike both candidates so badly why not vote third party as a protest? I've considered it, but won't do so. First, the two candidates are quite close in the polls, if one were so far ahead that protest votes wouldn't likely affect the outcome I might cast one, but as it is it's just too close. And while I don't think either candidate would be a GOOD governor for NJ I do believe one would be far worse than the other. Given the tightness of the race, my protest vote is a vote taken away from the lesser of two evils which may well ensure that the worse of those evils gets elected. I learned my lesson from Perot.
I can cast one vote. If the candidate who I believe would be a disaster for my state is elected he'll do so with no help from me, I won't cast my vote for him, I won't withhold my vote from his only viable opponent. Perhaps I can help elect a governor who'll be merely bad instead of dispicable. Then maybe next time around we can replace him with someone who merely leaves a lot to be desired, followed by someone who's not too bad, followed by someone who's pretty good. I may never live to see the day, but we've got to start someplace.
So get out from in front of your computer next Tuesday and vote. No excuses. I don't care if the line is long, you've waited on long lines to see a movie. I don't care if it's raining, you went to work in the rain, you can vote in the rain. If you don't vote, don't complain about the Governor selected by those of us who did.
But back to NJ. Next Tuesday I'll choose between two major-party candidates and a number of third-party candidates. I don't trust any of the candidates, but I don't trust any elected official, especially not the ones I vote for. I always cast my vote with the understanding that the candidate made promises to me in return for my vote and that if said promises are not met then next time my vote may well go elsewhere.
So who will I vote for? I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll offer some of my thought processes. Of the two major-party candidates I completely dispise one of them and merely intensely dislike the other. There actually was a candidate in the primary who I liked and would have voted for, but he didn't win the primary. How about a third party? I voted for Ross Perot because I thought that as a businessman he'd bring a level of financial responsibility to our nation. I was misguided. I was misguided first in believing that such issues were the most important and second in believing he actually had a chance of winning. Live and learn, die and forget it all. There is no third party candidate in NJ who stands the slightest chance of winning, period.
But Mark, if you dislike both candidates so badly why not vote third party as a protest? I've considered it, but won't do so. First, the two candidates are quite close in the polls, if one were so far ahead that protest votes wouldn't likely affect the outcome I might cast one, but as it is it's just too close. And while I don't think either candidate would be a GOOD governor for NJ I do believe one would be far worse than the other. Given the tightness of the race, my protest vote is a vote taken away from the lesser of two evils which may well ensure that the worse of those evils gets elected. I learned my lesson from Perot.
I can cast one vote. If the candidate who I believe would be a disaster for my state is elected he'll do so with no help from me, I won't cast my vote for him, I won't withhold my vote from his only viable opponent. Perhaps I can help elect a governor who'll be merely bad instead of dispicable. Then maybe next time around we can replace him with someone who merely leaves a lot to be desired, followed by someone who's not too bad, followed by someone who's pretty good. I may never live to see the day, but we've got to start someplace.
So get out from in front of your computer next Tuesday and vote. No excuses. I don't care if the line is long, you've waited on long lines to see a movie. I don't care if it's raining, you went to work in the rain, you can vote in the rain. If you don't vote, don't complain about the Governor selected by those of us who did.
Monday, October 24, 2005
American Politics
Since Election Day is fast approaching I want to say a few things about American politics. I said in my entry on "America" that the American government is in the hands of the American people and that's what makes the American form of government so wonderful. There's a downside to that, which is that if the majority of American's just don't care enough about the government to get involved in it then they'll be controlled by a few people, often people with aspirations to power.
Make no mistake about it, by electing someone to any office, from local police chief to President of the US, you're giving that person power. In many cases you're giving them immense power. You're giving them the power that only government has, which is the power to legally use violence or the threat of violence to do what it wants. Think about that for a moment. If I owe you money and you come to my house threatening me with violence if I don't pay you I can call the government (in the form of the local police) and have you arrested. I can even use violence against you in self defense and it would be legal (assuming the legal requirements for self-defense were met). If I owe money to the government, in the form of taxes for instance, representatives of that government can, and will, come to my house and threaten me with violence if I don't pay up. If I respond to these threats with violence I would either be offered more violence (up to and including deadly force) and if I survive I will be charged with resisting the government officials. Think long and hard about that.
To get involved in the process you need to understand the process. I went to the New York City public schools. In those schools we learned a LITTLE about how our government was structured in a class called "Social Studies". This basically combined the classes formerly known as "History" and "Civics". Of course when the SATs rolled around Social Studies was pre-empted by Math and English because Social Studies didn't help you get into college. More's the pity. I have to say that most of what I actually learned about our political system I learned by self-study. The information is there.
What information do you use to decide who to vote for? During the 2000 Presidential election a co-worker told me I should vote for Al Gore because he was better looking than George W. Bush. If she'd told me I should vote for Gore because he was pro-choice I could have respected that despite the fact that I disagree with it, but to decide who should head up the most powerful nation in the world based on LOOKS?
Still other people ignore the process and let others decide who's going to govern them? Why would so many people give up their freedoms as long as they're fed and the TV works? Because nothing's changed since the Roman Empire, give the people bread and circuses and they'll let you do whatever you want. For some people, as long as they're fed and entertained they couldn't care less about corruption in their government, they couldn't care less about whether or not their rights are being violated largely because they don't even understand those rights.
If I have an ultimate purpose for this Blog it's to wake people up. I want everyone, EVERYONE, to understand that you, YOU RIGHT THERE SITTING IN FRONT OF YOUR COMPUTER, has rights. That the Government doesn't bestow these rights like some favor on those who serve it well but that they are part of who and what you are. That the Government doesn't have the authority to infringe upon those rights. That the only way you can be deprived of those rights is that if you have committed a crime and such deprivation is part of your punishment. That if you, YOU! don't exercise those rights you might as well not have them. If you don't vote you have no cause for complaint about the government you get. If you don't write to your elected officials to influence them you have no cause for complaint when they pass laws that are abhorent to you. If you keep sending the same politicians back to Washington DC despite the fact that you hate them then YOU are the PROBLEM.
How do we make the system work? First off, if you're one of those people who doesn't get involved, start getting involved. Vote. Write letters, not just letters to the editor of your local newspaper but letters to your elected officials. You don't know the issues? Educate yourself! There are plenty of places around the web to find out what's going on at the state and national level. You already vote and write? Good for you, now start holding the elected officials responsible, let them know that they were elected based on their promises and if those promises are not kept they'll be voted out and replaced. Nothing frightens a politician more than the possibility of losing an election.
I said it before, the American people decide what happens in our government. If everyone participates we get a government that represents us. If we don't we get a government that represents only those few who turn out. Either way we get the government we deserve.
Make no mistake about it, by electing someone to any office, from local police chief to President of the US, you're giving that person power. In many cases you're giving them immense power. You're giving them the power that only government has, which is the power to legally use violence or the threat of violence to do what it wants. Think about that for a moment. If I owe you money and you come to my house threatening me with violence if I don't pay you I can call the government (in the form of the local police) and have you arrested. I can even use violence against you in self defense and it would be legal (assuming the legal requirements for self-defense were met). If I owe money to the government, in the form of taxes for instance, representatives of that government can, and will, come to my house and threaten me with violence if I don't pay up. If I respond to these threats with violence I would either be offered more violence (up to and including deadly force) and if I survive I will be charged with resisting the government officials. Think long and hard about that.
To get involved in the process you need to understand the process. I went to the New York City public schools. In those schools we learned a LITTLE about how our government was structured in a class called "Social Studies". This basically combined the classes formerly known as "History" and "Civics". Of course when the SATs rolled around Social Studies was pre-empted by Math and English because Social Studies didn't help you get into college. More's the pity. I have to say that most of what I actually learned about our political system I learned by self-study. The information is there.
What information do you use to decide who to vote for? During the 2000 Presidential election a co-worker told me I should vote for Al Gore because he was better looking than George W. Bush. If she'd told me I should vote for Gore because he was pro-choice I could have respected that despite the fact that I disagree with it, but to decide who should head up the most powerful nation in the world based on LOOKS?
Still other people ignore the process and let others decide who's going to govern them? Why would so many people give up their freedoms as long as they're fed and the TV works? Because nothing's changed since the Roman Empire, give the people bread and circuses and they'll let you do whatever you want. For some people, as long as they're fed and entertained they couldn't care less about corruption in their government, they couldn't care less about whether or not their rights are being violated largely because they don't even understand those rights.
If I have an ultimate purpose for this Blog it's to wake people up. I want everyone, EVERYONE, to understand that you, YOU RIGHT THERE SITTING IN FRONT OF YOUR COMPUTER, has rights. That the Government doesn't bestow these rights like some favor on those who serve it well but that they are part of who and what you are. That the Government doesn't have the authority to infringe upon those rights. That the only way you can be deprived of those rights is that if you have committed a crime and such deprivation is part of your punishment. That if you, YOU! don't exercise those rights you might as well not have them. If you don't vote you have no cause for complaint about the government you get. If you don't write to your elected officials to influence them you have no cause for complaint when they pass laws that are abhorent to you. If you keep sending the same politicians back to Washington DC despite the fact that you hate them then YOU are the PROBLEM.
How do we make the system work? First off, if you're one of those people who doesn't get involved, start getting involved. Vote. Write letters, not just letters to the editor of your local newspaper but letters to your elected officials. You don't know the issues? Educate yourself! There are plenty of places around the web to find out what's going on at the state and national level. You already vote and write? Good for you, now start holding the elected officials responsible, let them know that they were elected based on their promises and if those promises are not kept they'll be voted out and replaced. Nothing frightens a politician more than the possibility of losing an election.
I said it before, the American people decide what happens in our government. If everyone participates we get a government that represents us. If we don't we get a government that represents only those few who turn out. Either way we get the government we deserve.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Robin - RIP
A good man died on the morning of October 17. I never met him in person, I only know him thru this wonderful place called the Internet. One of my hobbies is model railroading, and Robin was a regular contributor to one of the forums I frequent. Robin made beautiful models. His models were even more amazing because his material of choice was what he called cereal-board, which was cardboard cut from empty cereal boxes. Yes, this man, armed with stuff we all throw in the trash along with snap-off knives, glue, and acrylic paint from the craft store, built models that were unmatched.
This isn't about his models though, this is about him. Robin didn't just post pictures of his completed models for everyone to marvel at, he posted step-by-step construction photos so we could all see his progression from an empty cereal box to a beautiful model. He took our good-natured teasing about the cereal company logos apparent in his models before he painted them. Whenever anyone commented on the quality of his work he encouraged them saying that if he could do it anyone could. He encouraged many of us, including me, to give it a try. This was his magic, not only in building models but in sharing his expertise with the rest of us and encouraging us.
I like to think that Robin is in a place where he has a large pile of cereal board, where he never runs out of glue or paint, and where the knife never slips and nicks his finger. I hope to meet him there someday, and I know he'll be as willing to teach me there as he was here.
My life, and that of many others, was vastly improved by this man I would never have even heard of were it not for a shared love of modelling and a place where people from all over the world could meet. The world will be a little worse now, there is one less artist, craftsman, teacher, and most importantly good man in it. Robin had a gift for teaching and inspiring. His criticism was always constructive, he freely offered advice to anyone who asked and just as willingly accepted advice from others.
I'll miss you Robin, thanks for everything.
This isn't about his models though, this is about him. Robin didn't just post pictures of his completed models for everyone to marvel at, he posted step-by-step construction photos so we could all see his progression from an empty cereal box to a beautiful model. He took our good-natured teasing about the cereal company logos apparent in his models before he painted them. Whenever anyone commented on the quality of his work he encouraged them saying that if he could do it anyone could. He encouraged many of us, including me, to give it a try. This was his magic, not only in building models but in sharing his expertise with the rest of us and encouraging us.
I like to think that Robin is in a place where he has a large pile of cereal board, where he never runs out of glue or paint, and where the knife never slips and nicks his finger. I hope to meet him there someday, and I know he'll be as willing to teach me there as he was here.
My life, and that of many others, was vastly improved by this man I would never have even heard of were it not for a shared love of modelling and a place where people from all over the world could meet. The world will be a little worse now, there is one less artist, craftsman, teacher, and most importantly good man in it. Robin had a gift for teaching and inspiring. His criticism was always constructive, he freely offered advice to anyone who asked and just as willingly accepted advice from others.
I'll miss you Robin, thanks for everything.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Celebrity
One day last week a New York City newspaper had on its front-page a headline and picture proclaiming that Tom Cruise and his other-half (whose name I’m insufficiently interested in to do a Google search to look it up) were expecting a baby. Now, if I were friends with the happy couple I’d undoubtedly be happy for them. Even though I never met either of them I still feel a general happiness for them as they prepare for their new arrival. But is it news?
I took a photojournalism class in college for an art requirement, and we were given the definition of “news”: whatever the editor thinks will sell newspapers. The picture of a smiling Tom Cruise certainly fit that description, but WHY does this sell newspapers? Why are Americans so engrossed with celebrities that they see a headline proclaiming that Tom Cruise is going to be a father and just HAVE to buy that newspaper?
This may seem a minor issue, but I can’t believe that there weren’t more important things to read about that day. There were laws passed, how do they affect me? Crimes were committed, how can I protect myself from them? Businesses succeeded and failed, how will that affect the economy? Our military is involved in Iraq, Afganistan, and elsewhere around the world, what happened? Iran and North Korea are threatening to build nuclear weapons, what’s happening there?
Worse than the fact of celebrities displacing news from the front page that actually has some effect on our lives is the fact that people actually listen to celebrities and take their opinions seriously, not because those opinions are coherent, informed and well thought-out but because they’re offered by celebrities. When Tom Cruise (and I’m really not trying to pick on him) offers medical advice on treating postpartum depression why should he be taken seriously? He shouldn’t, but some people probably did. When Sean Penn offers advice on foreign policy or when Sheryl Crow talks politics, why are they taken seriously?
Perhaps worse in the cult of celebrity are those people who are propelled into the public eye through events beyond their control and people assume that they are experts. The current media darling in this respect is Cindy Sheehan. Gold Star mothers get a lot of slack from me in what they say, especially in the days and weeks after they get their dreadful news. I can’t imagine the pain they feel. People who are in shock and mourning say harsh things. They may even continue to feel bitter toward the nation their child served and died for. But, the fact that you lost a loved one in the war doesn’t mean that you know whether or not that war is worth fighting or even if this country is worth fighting for. I’m not even going to get into what she’s doing to her son’s memory, that is between her and her conscience. I want to know what makes her an expert on foreign policy and military strategy?
Actors know about acting, if you want to hear an actor talking about what he or she knows watch Inside the Actor’s Studio. Gold Star mothers understand grief, if you’ve lost a child and want help coping with your loss I can’t think of a better person to speak to. If you need legal advice you don’t ask an actor who played a lawyer on TV, why do you listen to political advice from an actor who played a politician? A singer gets one vote just like I do, why should I vote the way that singer tells me because he’s famous?
It’s easy to blame the media, but the media only reflects what people want. If people buy newspapers with celebrity baby announcements on the front page then that’s what they’ll run. If people see such front pages, say “big deal” and keep walking they’ll start running real news. If people hear about celebrities discussing world politics on TV and change the channel then we’ll get some experts giving analysis on TV.
So I ask you, what’s more important to your life, what Congress did last week or what Brad Pitt did? Does what’s happening to Jennifer Aniston interest you more than who’s being considered for Supreme Court justice? Can you name more finalists on American Idol than you can your own Congressmen and Senators? Are you more familiar with People magazine than your own Constitution? Being an informed American takes effort, but if you can handle Fantasy Football you can handle following a Congressional election. If you can handle the alliances on Survivor, you can handle the Senatorial hearings on the Supreme Court nominees. The only person that can make that effort is YOU. If you’re more willing to write fan mail to a movie star than a letter about upcoming legislation to your Representatives, then they’ll do whatever they want and you have no one to blame but yourself. If you’d rather vote for American Idol than Senator, you have no cause for complaint when your Senator doesn’t represent you.
I took a photojournalism class in college for an art requirement, and we were given the definition of “news”: whatever the editor thinks will sell newspapers. The picture of a smiling Tom Cruise certainly fit that description, but WHY does this sell newspapers? Why are Americans so engrossed with celebrities that they see a headline proclaiming that Tom Cruise is going to be a father and just HAVE to buy that newspaper?
This may seem a minor issue, but I can’t believe that there weren’t more important things to read about that day. There were laws passed, how do they affect me? Crimes were committed, how can I protect myself from them? Businesses succeeded and failed, how will that affect the economy? Our military is involved in Iraq, Afganistan, and elsewhere around the world, what happened? Iran and North Korea are threatening to build nuclear weapons, what’s happening there?
Worse than the fact of celebrities displacing news from the front page that actually has some effect on our lives is the fact that people actually listen to celebrities and take their opinions seriously, not because those opinions are coherent, informed and well thought-out but because they’re offered by celebrities. When Tom Cruise (and I’m really not trying to pick on him) offers medical advice on treating postpartum depression why should he be taken seriously? He shouldn’t, but some people probably did. When Sean Penn offers advice on foreign policy or when Sheryl Crow talks politics, why are they taken seriously?
Perhaps worse in the cult of celebrity are those people who are propelled into the public eye through events beyond their control and people assume that they are experts. The current media darling in this respect is Cindy Sheehan. Gold Star mothers get a lot of slack from me in what they say, especially in the days and weeks after they get their dreadful news. I can’t imagine the pain they feel. People who are in shock and mourning say harsh things. They may even continue to feel bitter toward the nation their child served and died for. But, the fact that you lost a loved one in the war doesn’t mean that you know whether or not that war is worth fighting or even if this country is worth fighting for. I’m not even going to get into what she’s doing to her son’s memory, that is between her and her conscience. I want to know what makes her an expert on foreign policy and military strategy?
Actors know about acting, if you want to hear an actor talking about what he or she knows watch Inside the Actor’s Studio. Gold Star mothers understand grief, if you’ve lost a child and want help coping with your loss I can’t think of a better person to speak to. If you need legal advice you don’t ask an actor who played a lawyer on TV, why do you listen to political advice from an actor who played a politician? A singer gets one vote just like I do, why should I vote the way that singer tells me because he’s famous?
It’s easy to blame the media, but the media only reflects what people want. If people buy newspapers with celebrity baby announcements on the front page then that’s what they’ll run. If people see such front pages, say “big deal” and keep walking they’ll start running real news. If people hear about celebrities discussing world politics on TV and change the channel then we’ll get some experts giving analysis on TV.
So I ask you, what’s more important to your life, what Congress did last week or what Brad Pitt did? Does what’s happening to Jennifer Aniston interest you more than who’s being considered for Supreme Court justice? Can you name more finalists on American Idol than you can your own Congressmen and Senators? Are you more familiar with People magazine than your own Constitution? Being an informed American takes effort, but if you can handle Fantasy Football you can handle following a Congressional election. If you can handle the alliances on Survivor, you can handle the Senatorial hearings on the Supreme Court nominees. The only person that can make that effort is YOU. If you’re more willing to write fan mail to a movie star than a letter about upcoming legislation to your Representatives, then they’ll do whatever they want and you have no one to blame but yourself. If you’d rather vote for American Idol than Senator, you have no cause for complaint when your Senator doesn’t represent you.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
America
I’ve thought long and hard about what my first “real” Blog entry would be. I wrote essays, articles if you will, on Capitalism and security, but I wanted something that would both provide an insight into both the world we live in and my view of it. Something that, when you read future posts, you’ll be able to say “That’s exactly what he was talking about in his first post”.
So I decided to write about the USA. From now on I’ll refer to it as America. Yes, I know there are two American continents and that the US is part of only one of them, but when I think of the country I live in I think of it as America, as in America the Beautiful, God Bless America, or just plain America. Spare me the comments that Brazil is in America too, I’m not talking about Brazil.
There is absolutely no place else in the entire world I’d rather live than in America. Other places may be nice to visit but I’ll always come back home. I think there are a few things that make America great. Before you get on my case, I know she’s not perfect. There’s room for improvement, but they’re improvements in scale, not in fundamentals. To become more perfect we need to further implement the things that make America great, not throw those things out and start over with something else.
Our system of government is the greatest in the world, and the reason why can be summed up in one simple phrase, government by the consent of the governed. Ultimate power in this country rests squarely in the people’s hands. No matter how bad you think your elected officials, from the local town council to the president, you have to remember that the people who voted put him/her there and those same people can remove him/her from office next election.
Our Constitution is a monument of simplicity and elegance. You can sit down and read the entire thing in a few hours, yet it provides the framework for a system of government that’s lasted over two centuries and governs the people from every other nation who came here looking for a better life. Imbedded in the Constitution is something unique, the first ten amendments, the Bill of Rights. This specifically states that the people of this nation have rights that the government can’t take away except by due process of the law. The government can’t lock you up because you criticized said government. The government can’t tell you how, when, where, who or even if to worship. The government can’t search my home without my permission unless they have strong evidence, not suspicion, that I’ve done something illegal. These rights aren’t granted by the Constitution, they’re ours and the Constitution explicitly recognizes them with a sign that says “paws off”.
Our economy, even when it’s at its weakest, is still the strongest in the world. The “poor” people in this country have access to clean water, shelter and food. Nobody starves to death in the US because they can’t afford food. Our economy drives invention, art, technology, and literature. A kid who grew up poor by our standards (but who never went to bed hungry) can grow up to a good job, home ownership, and can sit at a computer on a Saturday morning typing an essay to offer to the world via the Internet. I personally know I’ll never be “rich” because I frankly don’t want to work hard enough to become rich. I’m comfortable and I’m perfectly happy to stay that way. I do know, and know of, people who are wealthy. Most of them got that way by working hard. The man who owns the hair salon my wife goes to has a much nicer home than I have. He’s also worked 70 and 80 hours a week for years to get where he is. I don’t begrudge him a dime of his money. If you want to make it here you can. My mother’s father came here from Norway, he took a job at the local shipyard cleaning the bathrooms, by the time he died he was foreman. That doesn’t happen anyplace else in the world.
One thing that sets Americans apart can best be summed up in the word “Spirit”. Look at our heroes. George Washington, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Robert E. Lee, William T. Sherman, Wyatt Earp, Helen Keller, Susan B. Anthony, Chesty Puller, Audie Murphy, Neil Armstrong. Todd Beemer. They’re big people and their stories make them bigger than life. For every big hero there are millions of small ones no one ever hears of, the nameless men who built the transcontinental railroad and weren’t going to let a bunch a mountains stop them. JFK (who was killed when I was five months old) summed it up when he said we choose to go to the moon not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard. American Spirit, there are bad guys to fight, bridges to build, and new territory to set foot on for no other reason than that no one’s been there yet.
It’s the American people who make this country great. The government is great because it’s in the hands of the people. The economy is great because the people make things, buy things, sell things, work and make money. I didn’t have to be a crane operator because my father was, he didn’t have to be a minister either. I could have had any job I wanted if I had the qualifications for it, the intelligence for it, and the willingness to work hard enough to make it all happen.
People say a lot of bad things about Americans, some are true and some are so obviously, provably false that they’re slanderous. We’re simplistic, we’re lacking in subtlety. I prefer to think of that as directness, we evaluate the situation and take whatever actions are required. We’re stupid. Absolutely not true. If we didn’t invent it we improved it. We’re trying to take over the world. That’s never been true, Americans have no stomach for Imperialism since we carved out our own nation. We don’t tax anyone who doesn’t have a say in our government. We repeatedly used our citizen-soldiers to save other nations and when the threat was over they went back home and started baby booms. People say bad things about our popular culture, our TV shows, movies, and fast food. What they don’t understand is that these things are popular because people like them and buy them. McDonalds is successful because people buy their product.
No, we’re not perfect. We still have work to do. Racism has taken a huge hit in my lifetime, it’s not gone but it’s on its way. There are still some people lacking the basic necessities of life. If they can’t work they need to be provided for, and if they can but lack the education or training that’s where the effort should be spent. In my opinion the biggest threat we have is from people who truly want to bring America, and all that makes it great, down. There are terrorists outside who want to destroy us because we dare to be free and happy. There are people within who would love to dismantle our government and set up a new one with them on top. America has seen such threats before, we’ve beaten them before and we’ll beat them again. It may be hard. I personally never saw a darker day than 9/11/2001, but thru it all I knew with absolute certainty that future history books will state that America stood and the terrorists fell.
I’ve thrown a lot out there today. I’ll be expanding on some of the details in the weeks and months ahead.
So I decided to write about the USA. From now on I’ll refer to it as America. Yes, I know there are two American continents and that the US is part of only one of them, but when I think of the country I live in I think of it as America, as in America the Beautiful, God Bless America, or just plain America. Spare me the comments that Brazil is in America too, I’m not talking about Brazil.
There is absolutely no place else in the entire world I’d rather live than in America. Other places may be nice to visit but I’ll always come back home. I think there are a few things that make America great. Before you get on my case, I know she’s not perfect. There’s room for improvement, but they’re improvements in scale, not in fundamentals. To become more perfect we need to further implement the things that make America great, not throw those things out and start over with something else.
Our system of government is the greatest in the world, and the reason why can be summed up in one simple phrase, government by the consent of the governed. Ultimate power in this country rests squarely in the people’s hands. No matter how bad you think your elected officials, from the local town council to the president, you have to remember that the people who voted put him/her there and those same people can remove him/her from office next election.
Our Constitution is a monument of simplicity and elegance. You can sit down and read the entire thing in a few hours, yet it provides the framework for a system of government that’s lasted over two centuries and governs the people from every other nation who came here looking for a better life. Imbedded in the Constitution is something unique, the first ten amendments, the Bill of Rights. This specifically states that the people of this nation have rights that the government can’t take away except by due process of the law. The government can’t lock you up because you criticized said government. The government can’t tell you how, when, where, who or even if to worship. The government can’t search my home without my permission unless they have strong evidence, not suspicion, that I’ve done something illegal. These rights aren’t granted by the Constitution, they’re ours and the Constitution explicitly recognizes them with a sign that says “paws off”.
Our economy, even when it’s at its weakest, is still the strongest in the world. The “poor” people in this country have access to clean water, shelter and food. Nobody starves to death in the US because they can’t afford food. Our economy drives invention, art, technology, and literature. A kid who grew up poor by our standards (but who never went to bed hungry) can grow up to a good job, home ownership, and can sit at a computer on a Saturday morning typing an essay to offer to the world via the Internet. I personally know I’ll never be “rich” because I frankly don’t want to work hard enough to become rich. I’m comfortable and I’m perfectly happy to stay that way. I do know, and know of, people who are wealthy. Most of them got that way by working hard. The man who owns the hair salon my wife goes to has a much nicer home than I have. He’s also worked 70 and 80 hours a week for years to get where he is. I don’t begrudge him a dime of his money. If you want to make it here you can. My mother’s father came here from Norway, he took a job at the local shipyard cleaning the bathrooms, by the time he died he was foreman. That doesn’t happen anyplace else in the world.
One thing that sets Americans apart can best be summed up in the word “Spirit”. Look at our heroes. George Washington, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Robert E. Lee, William T. Sherman, Wyatt Earp, Helen Keller, Susan B. Anthony, Chesty Puller, Audie Murphy, Neil Armstrong. Todd Beemer. They’re big people and their stories make them bigger than life. For every big hero there are millions of small ones no one ever hears of, the nameless men who built the transcontinental railroad and weren’t going to let a bunch a mountains stop them. JFK (who was killed when I was five months old) summed it up when he said we choose to go to the moon not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard. American Spirit, there are bad guys to fight, bridges to build, and new territory to set foot on for no other reason than that no one’s been there yet.
It’s the American people who make this country great. The government is great because it’s in the hands of the people. The economy is great because the people make things, buy things, sell things, work and make money. I didn’t have to be a crane operator because my father was, he didn’t have to be a minister either. I could have had any job I wanted if I had the qualifications for it, the intelligence for it, and the willingness to work hard enough to make it all happen.
People say a lot of bad things about Americans, some are true and some are so obviously, provably false that they’re slanderous. We’re simplistic, we’re lacking in subtlety. I prefer to think of that as directness, we evaluate the situation and take whatever actions are required. We’re stupid. Absolutely not true. If we didn’t invent it we improved it. We’re trying to take over the world. That’s never been true, Americans have no stomach for Imperialism since we carved out our own nation. We don’t tax anyone who doesn’t have a say in our government. We repeatedly used our citizen-soldiers to save other nations and when the threat was over they went back home and started baby booms. People say bad things about our popular culture, our TV shows, movies, and fast food. What they don’t understand is that these things are popular because people like them and buy them. McDonalds is successful because people buy their product.
No, we’re not perfect. We still have work to do. Racism has taken a huge hit in my lifetime, it’s not gone but it’s on its way. There are still some people lacking the basic necessities of life. If they can’t work they need to be provided for, and if they can but lack the education or training that’s where the effort should be spent. In my opinion the biggest threat we have is from people who truly want to bring America, and all that makes it great, down. There are terrorists outside who want to destroy us because we dare to be free and happy. There are people within who would love to dismantle our government and set up a new one with them on top. America has seen such threats before, we’ve beaten them before and we’ll beat them again. It may be hard. I personally never saw a darker day than 9/11/2001, but thru it all I knew with absolute certainty that future history books will state that America stood and the terrorists fell.
I’ve thrown a lot out there today. I’ll be expanding on some of the details in the weeks and months ahead.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Hello Blogosphere!
Yes, there's yet another blog, just what the world needs.
This will be a forum for me to rant, vent, and otherwise discuss topics of interest to me. Over time you'll get my views on religion (Christian), politics (Conservative), economics (Capitalist), music (Anything but rap) and anything else that piques my interest or torques my briefs that day.
I'd like your comments, I only ask that you be polite. If I say something that's not true, call me on it, tell me why it's not true, and tell me what is true. Beware though, something isn't false because you don't like it, and falsehood doesn't change to truth because it's repeated enough times in a loud or shrill enough voice.
I got the name for this Blog from a line from Shakespeare's King Henry IV: "By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind: an’t be my destiny, so; an’t be not, so. No man’s too good to serve’s prince; and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next."
So pull up a chair, grab a cold one, and enjoy the ride.
This will be a forum for me to rant, vent, and otherwise discuss topics of interest to me. Over time you'll get my views on religion (Christian), politics (Conservative), economics (Capitalist), music (Anything but rap) and anything else that piques my interest or torques my briefs that day.
I'd like your comments, I only ask that you be polite. If I say something that's not true, call me on it, tell me why it's not true, and tell me what is true. Beware though, something isn't false because you don't like it, and falsehood doesn't change to truth because it's repeated enough times in a loud or shrill enough voice.
I got the name for this Blog from a line from Shakespeare's King Henry IV: "By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind: an’t be my destiny, so; an’t be not, so. No man’s too good to serve’s prince; and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next."
So pull up a chair, grab a cold one, and enjoy the ride.
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