I Shall Be Released

Sunday morning. Maybe not always a day for worship but certainly a day for reflection. While many of us go to a house of worship  many others go to the networks to hear the nattering heads make sense of the weeks events. They'll be talking Libya and Japan this week. Back and forth they'll go. How do you create democracy? What do you do to prevent or mitigate natural disasters? Is nuclear power safe? They'll babble-on puffed up with the majesty of their own revealed word. They will spin a mighty tale about the horrors, or bet money on, the safety of nuclear power. They'll wonder aloud why it is so hard to get democracy to take root. Some will blame Obama because it's their job to blame Obama. Blame for what I'm not sure. Others will just defend their point of view sans interest in facts or morality.

I'm not interested in blame. Not on Sunday, not during the week. I am interested in numbers though, even numbers that are only accurate estimates. Numbers like 250, 7,500, and 250,000. If you didn't know those are the death tolls for the earthquakes in New Zealand, Japan and Haiti.

Perspective people; perspective.

Red corned beef, or gray? Mantle, or Mays? Beatles, or Stones? Chili, beans or no beans? Coke, or Pepsi? Weed, or Beer? Creationism, or Evolution? Democrats, or Republicans? Celtics, or Lakers? Red Sox, or Yankees? (Yankees suck) Baked, or mashed? Mozart, or Beethoven? Hockey, or boxing? Beer, or Coors Lite? O'Rielly or intelligence? Kerry, or a personality? Up, or down? Pedophilia, or Catholicism? Banks, or home owners? Sauce, or gravy? Rich, or poor? Bieber, or Cyrus? Men, or women? Obama, or an American? Bush, or a post? Cheney, or Satan? (no fair comparing the same thing). Argue much? It seems as a people we just love ourselves a good argument. We like to throw down over it too. If your team decides to crush working people as a matter of policy you better be on board even if you happen to be a working people. Yeah I'm talking to you Joe the plumber.

Fight, fight, fight, cry, cry, cry, work yourself into a lather, get ready to go to war... Then suddenly the Big Kahuna reminds us just what misery is really like. Japan is destroyed. Boom, gone. I heard a radio commentator say he had never seen such destruction before in his life time. I guess he forgot the earthquake in Haiti. I guess he forgot the tsunami that hit the Indian ocean. Really people? When we're not fighting over whether the banks, or Acorn crashed the economy do we really forget the lessons we should have learned just a year ago? What lesson? Just that getting in a huff over the color of the corned beef or the proper use of condiments is maybe a waste of time when 10s of thousands of people can be obliterated because nature got cranky.

The color of the meat is purely arbitrary.

Moonbat.

I guess if you are reading this blog you know or figured out that I am a kind of a left wing moon-bat type person. Truth. On the other hand I don't like granola, never wear birckenstocks, think incorporating is a valuable financial tool, and love a little hedonism once and awhile. I just think companies and governments need rules to keep them in line. I also don't like this:

1. Nestle
2. Nestle again.
3. Chiquita
4. Chiquita(United Fruit)
5. Chiquita again
6. Shell Oil
7. Debeers
8. Massy Energy
9. The American Work Place
10. Union Carbide

 Take a minute, peruse a few of the links, see why I don't sign on to the uncontrolled free market. I bet neither do you. So I guess the real question is how much of a moon-bat are you? This stuff isn't going away tomorrow, but it will never go away unless we try to stop it.

Raw Vegan Goodness!

No I am not crazy. I just came back from the  "Organic Garden" in Beverly. I went because I love my friends, because I'm going stir crazy with the winter, and because you never turn down a chance to mooch a meal. I also figured that eating raw, vegan food would give me some sort of "Fear Factor" street cred. What's the worst that could happen? Boy was I wrong. The stuff was delicious.

 I'm almost mad about it, because despite this bloggy little exercise in politics and food porn I create I don't eat very much meat. There's a reason for that. I actually got to murder my own dinner many times when I was a wee lad. I spent a summer working at a religious retreat (many posts buried in my soul from that 3 months) that had their own farm. It wasn't a factory farm though so I never even blinked about the concept of where meat comes from. When Bessie got too old you eat her. What were you supposed to do? Let her go to waste? Then my friend who invited me today linked me over to this.

Make the Call, I know you'll make the call.

You: You're walking down the street. You're coming from your work. You're coming from the gym. You're coming from your tea-party rally. You're in a hurry. You're late for dinner. You're meeting the hot trainer for drinks. You're late to your anti-socialism bible group. Hustle and bustle, it's the American way. "Gotta move, got places to be, better hurry, gonna cut through the ally,  can't delay....

Him: Face down. It's dark but there's blood. He's not moving. His breathing sounds funny.

You: Damn, the hot trainer better understand. You pull out your cell. You dial 911.

You: Then you call your, significant other, trainer, bible group. You're going to be late. You have to wait for the police and the ambulance. You don't move him, somewhere you heard not to move people, so you cover him with your jacket.

Him: Not moving.

You: The police arrive with the paramedics. You wait. They're busy. Time passes. You know the trainer went home. The police want a statement. Finally they let you go. You socialized medicine loving Euro-trash loser! What?

Get up! Stand up!

Today I went to the Lawrence court house to offer moral support for a friend that is facing eviction. When I arrived at the front door there was a line that snaked its way out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Being a good American, used to being herded, I took my place at the end and sort of let my mind wander as we all made our slow shuffle to the infernal gate ahead. We were a motley assortment of the raggedy unemployed, young mothers pushing carragies, gangbangers or gangbanger wanna-bes, worried looking suburbanites shuffling papers, stubby bald dudes there to offer support, even an occasional suit and tie. I'm guessing that some small percentage of my line mates were not going home tonight, but I promise you that everyone in that line was going home at least one day older and a few hours poorer. There was another door, but that was a strictly suit and tie affair, a no waiting I have a law degree, door.

The woman and the babies mostly stayed on the first floor, family court. Restraining orders, child support, DSS stuff. There were way too many of them. I guess if you wanted to you could work up enough rage to get pissed at them. After all they were mostly spanish (illegal), mostly single (tramps), and mostly poor (lazy), mostly young (welfare queens) with their kids (bastards) in tow. You could get mad I guess, if you were Limbaugh, Hannity, or Beck. If you were simply evil. All I could do was feel sad. Most of them just looked beaten down. No one talked. No one smiled. Everyone just waited. Every once and awhile a little one would start crying, and there was a vague hum from the suits conferring at the corners of the hall, but it was almost eerily quiet. You didn't know, but you guessed that there were likely very few good out comes happening on the first floor. Once you bring the kids to court how is it going to get better?

The gangbangers all went to the third floor. They were mostly young, mostly hispanic, with a few whites and blacks in the mix. There was one teen in a suit with his Mom that looked as out of place as Obama at a tea party rally. Everyone over 30 seemed to be male, falling into 2 categories. Either they were in cheap suits ( don't woman lawyers do criminal cases?) or they looked like they crawled out of a dumpster. Apparently in Lawrence all crime is committed by young latinos and skid row bums.

The second floor was me and my friend. It was the only floor where people looked scared. There was a spanish speaking woman at a table which sported a sign that said "Free Legal Advice". It didn't say "free legal counsel". I guess a ten minute pow wow before you discuss complicated mortgage law in front of a judge is better than nothing. (Not!) Here everything was on the line. your home, which represents what? 10 years of your labor? 20? When you see people that are about to lose everything, who can't afford a lawyer, who get a 10 minute pow wow so they can take on the best lawyers that TARP money can buy you have to start looking around for Dante. The banks can't even always prove that the have clear title on the house. Shame on us.

Our case was moved to another day because the judge had to recuse himself. My friend, well, he makes himself known in the community. So today I'm not hungry. I need a recipe for the souls in limbo on the first floor. I need a recipe for the souls embracing hell on the third floor. I need a recipe for broken souls trying to hang on to their lives on the second floor. I need a recipe for my friend that is going to lose everything. There is nothing in any of my books or my smarty pants approach to life that is going to make today better for any of those people.

Super Bowl's coming.

Superbowl is coming tomorrow. Isn't it time to declare the Monday after a national holiday? We are a particularly argumentative people, wearing faux rebel gear, wrapped in the flag, and ready to exercise out 2nd amendment rights on anyone that disagrees with us, I say any event that we can all agree on should become some sort of national celebration. We need to wallow in our common ground. Besides do we really benefit from 60 or 70 million hung-over people showing up for work on Monday? I didn't think so.

Now being the chippy jack-offs that we are ( that's us boys) you know you can't possibly enjoy the Super Bowl unless you have a team to root for. That's tough for this Super Bowl. Pittsburgh is the 24th biggest television market in the country and I think they only have etch-a-sketch in Green Bay. Looks like we are going to have to trump up some false rage to get this party started on the right foot (yes ladies, I know you don't have to hate on someone to watch a game, that's why you are sometimes better than us, but that's also  why you are going to be in the kitchen most of the evening chatting and waiting for the commercials to come on).

Now it is just my opinion, but Pittsburgh has Rothlesburger which gives them a head start on the villein thing. (you might want to watch this ladies and join the hate; blame the victim much?)

In fact the Steelers pretty much win this one outright, but in the interest of being fair and balanced we will at least try to hate on the Packers.

Now a lot of you young-ins are thinking..."What's the big deal?" but I promise you that every old school coach in this country, and is there any other kind of coach?, was throwing things at the television when this self-involved nitwit started celebrating before he was in the end zone. Belichek and Ryan in the same room would both be throwing the same things at the screen. Why?

That's why. You should be impressed with yourself after you do something great, not before. We aren't going to get into a meta discussion on why we are going to hell in a hand basket, at least not today, so the sexual predator beats the happy buffoon for todays target. I say "Go Packers!"

We already whipped up some wings this week. Good Super Bowl food. If it's going to be a party though we need something more for the buffet. Start with chips, spring for the good stuff (my personal favorite is salt and pepper). Add some shrimp, a couple of dips, a vegetable plate (blanch the broccoli), it's all good, but you want something a little more substantial. How about this?