I've been done here

Patriotism on Independence Day

Doting Dad

This morning the boys woke around their usual time, and I roused them to dress and eat quickly, then drove the forty-five minutes to Lawrence. Dylan was excited about having alone time with his mom, seeing fireworks, going camping in Arkansas. We exchanged cursory information -- the boys did well, Dylan tried to pick up Jonah and dropped him which resulted in a new bump on his head, would I water the plants and feed the cat after dropping Jonah off with the X-mother-in-law Tuesday night (yes)?

Jennifer as I was leaving. Jonah and I drive off together, and he is obviously happy to have all my attention. As we drive back, he remarks incessantly, "ook, dah-heee!" or "aht, dah-hee!" pointing, wanting me to name various things he sees. "Truck!" he says. And "gas!" Home, we play a game with his truck, rolling it back and forth between us, and he is thrilled, laughing, his face shining. Past noon, I take him out to pizza, and he behaves himself well, eating more than usual, getting red sauce all over his face. Jonah continues his learning spree. "ahht! da-hheee!" Then, as I drive home, he hums an unintelligible song for a bit, then suddenly is quiet. I turn around to look, and he has crashed, sleeping heavily, and it makes me want to weep, and I come close to doing so, because he is beautiful and I love him.

Instead, at a stop sign I snap his picture, which isn't supposed to look funny, but does!

Know Your Rights

I woke up this morning and remembered something I'd forgotten, something I hadn't really thought clearly about for a while. I live in America. I'm an American citizen. I have a name in AmERICa, literally. As an American, I have certain privileges, rights, and responsibilities. Driving a car is a privilege. Remaining silent while being arrested and asking for an attorney is a right. Living by the rule of law and not, say, stealing from my neighbor, is a responsibility.

Freedom of expression is a much touted political right. As a human being, freedom of thought is another. I have the freedom to be wrong, to be misled, to live in the indecent obscurity of conventional dementia, to believe the world is flat, or that white people are superior to Asians, or that the death toll of American troops in Iraq is act of divine judgment on our country for its widespread acceptance of homosexuality, or that Pat Robertson once averted a hurricane through his efficacious prayers. I have the freedom to believe that size doesn't matter, that what's inside is more important than appearances, that quantity matters more than quality, that sex is worse than murder, that corporate profit is ultimately good and gambling an insidious evil. Not only can I think it, I can express it. I can be wrong, and express it as my opinion. I have that freedom as an American. I could think and express my profound opinion that George W. Bush is a flaming cocksucker, and be totally wrong, without penalty. That's what makes America great.

I heard a program on Evangelical radio a few days ago -- one of the channels through which the President won his mandate to outlaw queer marriage and keep Terry Schiavo artificially alive despite the legal wishes of her spouse -- through which the so-called "religious right" trickles down various talking points and zeitgeist zingers. I don't know what it was called, but it made me sick. I had diarhea later that night, and I think it was because of what I heard. It was an instructional, didactic primer on the subject of "work". Authentic work, I was told, is work that furthers the will of God in the world. Okay, fine. Inauthentic work is therefore work that does not. Examples of the latter? Prostitution, working in a casino that promotes the sin of gambling, and selling drugs. All right, fine. Alternately, I suppose, being President of the United States, invading other countries for profit and to secure our freedoms from the citizens of Haditha, working in a factory for slave labor in Saipan with no inherent privileges or rights, and trading stocks for Phizer on Wall Street are good jobs, examples of authentic work that glorifies God.

Therefore, selling a dime bag to a patient prescribed marijuana, or even to a "recreational drug user" (i.e., pothead) is evil, but selling Medicare to the drug companies in a totally insane and fucked-up attempt at privatization for the sole sake of corporate profit is good. Jesus, who accused religious leaders but loved and forgave prostitutes, evil. Tom Delay, protecting the use of forced prostitution and abortion in American territories like Saipan for the sake (again) of corporate profit, good. Homosexuality, evil. The casualties of war, the deaths of "innocent victims" justifying a greater cause (profit), good. Profanity on t.v. or the radio, evil. Propaganda from the Administration and its paid journalistic mouthpieces rationalizing murder, good. Terrorism against the United States, evil. Terrorism against other countries by the United States, strategic defense.

Check him out.