Splendid Isolation

As we isolate due to COVID19, various comments about the level of isolation we experience have been making the rounds. One in particular was a measurement of levels, one being “I haven’t changed anything,” to five being “total lock down.” My personal response was that I am at level four, or level one; I don’t go out much to start with.

The reactions to isolation are largely based on our pre isolation lives. The twenty four hour party people can’t go very long without an audience. Those of us who prefer to be left alone are in a state of bliss.

One irony of quarantine is that I now have to go to the grocery store. I used to have groceries delivered, but when everyone suddenly tried to have their groceries delivered the system was overwhelmed; I could not schedule a delivery. Ordering groceries for pick up is suddenly frustrating, shortages cause items to be out of stock by the time I complete the order. I leave home with several pairs of latex gloves and a container of Clorox wipes. I put on a pair before I leave the car and wipe the surfaces of carts and other devices (such as the self checkout). Then I remove that pair of gloves before entering the car, and drive to another store which might have items the first did not. Re-glove, repeat. Full shower and change of clothes after coming home. The stores are relatively empty, so distancing isn’t a problem.

At home we’re listening to more music, the television is fairly depressing with its reports of COVID19 prevalence, one thousand dead here, two thousand dead there, a party in New York State, nearby states rejecting New Yorkers. Individual responses have run the gamut, and stupid people are just not entertaining. We spent the early days of the quarantine watching films about pandemics.

One wonderful and/or awful thing about America is its spirit of independence and do it yourself attitude. It is wonderful to see people finding solutions , it is awful seeing people spread bad information. Among those spreading bad information is our president, who has contradicted doctors in favor of the economy. We don’t end quarantine on a financial calendar, we end it on a medical calendar. This is going to hurt. It is going to hurt everyone. We do better by exercising compassion for those without choices.

I see this pandemic, and the resulting quarantines, as a measure of our spirits. One does not quarantine oneself in order to avoid catching COVID19, one quarantines to avoid spreading COVID19. Incredibly self centered people violate quarantine to have parties, risking not only the lives in attendance, but the lives of everyone with whom they have contact.  I would like to believe this is evolution in progress, removing self centered people from the population. Those with compassion for others are far more likely to survive.

As with most events in America, suddenly everyone is an epidemiologist. This is a new virus, we cannot count on it behaving like other viruses. It is from the family of viruses that caused SARS and MERS, we already know that treatment for those viruses do not translate into treatments for this virus. The only weapons we have are the actual epidemiologists who are working directly with this virus. Have we not been using social media long enough to recognize false information? Again, perhaps an evolutionary moment, as we are freed of the burden of the gullible idiots among us.

Our “leaders” are showing their true stripes, in many cases to no surprise. Andrew Cuomo, governor of New York, displayed his self-centeredness when he took to the air complaining that his state, hit hard at the moment, could not have all the ventilators in existence. I would like to see his supply of toilet paper. The president has reverted to his childhood of bullying, allotting supplies to states with governors who are nice to him. Several voices have claimed that “old people” (the initial high risk group) would be willing to die to save their children. It doesn’t work like that, we are not bargaining with death. I would certainly trade my life to save one of my children from an eminent threat, so please don’t call me heartless when I say I would not roll the dice with a virus. We have learned that all ages are susceptible, yesterday an infant died of COVID19. There is no favored age range which we may sacrifice to save everyone else.

Ethics are being debated, as healthcare systems are stretched beyond capacity. This is why we quarantine, to avoid stressing our healthcare system. Triage is a basic element in healthcare, seeing the effects of triage is more than some people can handle. Every trip to the emergency room already undergoes triage, the guy in the car wreck gets treated before a doctor spends time on your broken toe. End of life triage is not a popular subject, but it has always been here. When resources are limited, so are responses. Italy had to deny ventilators to patients over sixty. We will do something similar here. We have fewer hospital beds per capita than Italy, to deny we will run out of hospital beds is foolish.

Recently in Philadelphia, the city requested the owner of an abandoned hospital (Hahnemann, closed a few months ago) to allow the city to use the space for overflow patients. The owner wanted a ridiculous amount for the privilege of using his worthless property.  The hospital stands empty. Some of us believe the owner will find a room in Hell.

The optimist within begs me to see all of this as a growth spurt, as humanity is reminded the value of being humane. Growth hurts, but in the end we are better developed. In the interim, we get to watch the evil we are trying to rid the world of take the spotlight.

We will come out of this better if we learn to cherish good rather than blame evil. Take this time of isolation to learn something, a new instrument or language, reflect on your values and relationships.

 

 

And most importantly, wash your hands.

 

 

 

 

How many Jews?

I am always amazed at those who fail to see the damage of the Holocaust. This was a major historical event that took place in some of our lifetimes, but the majority see it (rightly) as history. History, that boring class you could never see the point of.

In a survey taken in the United Kingdom, five percent denied it took place (illegal in many countries), while a slightly larger group feels its extent has been exaggerated. I found those numbers disappointing, until I read the next line “In the survey, 45% of those polled said they did not know how many people were killed in the Holocaust, while one in five (19%) believed fewer than two million Jews were murdered. The actual figure was six million.”

The actual number is close to twelve million. Six million were Jews, the others were just marginalized groups who have few mourners. Gay, Disabled, Unpopular were all reasons to be sent to what we now call “Death Camps.” Some of us view the Holocaust as enveloping World War Two, which included the deaths of seventy five million, about three percent of the world’s population. It should be no surprise that the 1918 Flu pandemic is hardly remembered, which “only” killed fifty million.

In the midst of a major culling of humanity, six million Jews were forgotten because they were a reminder of the twelve million humans the NAZIs killed in the shadow of the seventy five million who died in the war. They were not part of the seventy five million, they were in addition to the seventy five million.

Each one of those people was related to someone, although in many cases the relative was another of the six million. Some people only know that a branch of their family ended, others know stories of an individual. This was a large percentage of the entire Jewish demographic, which tends to be only two percent of the world population. Yeah, I was rather taken aback a few years ago when I found just how small the Jewish religion was; I always had thought is was around fifty/fifty Christians and Jews. Every Jew was touched in some way.

So no, the deaths of the relatives of what is now one hundred seventy six million people will not just go away. Sixty percent of the Jews in Europe, one third of all Jews in the world, and people forget? Even if it wasn’t taught, there are people who never heard about the losses of the Second World War?

I can understand isolation. Today, when a plane crashes, it is only on the news if Americans were on board. Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 would not have gained the public’s eye had not three Americans been among the two hundred fifty eight passengers. So when a religion you are not connected to is wiped out by people who you don’t care about, why would it stand out in your mind? The same is true today as small civilizations in South America are decimated by corporate interests.

One element about COVID19 has stood out to me. It is a disease the majority of people will not experience directly. Like the Holocaust it will predominantly be experienced indirectly. The precautions we take are not really for ourselves, even if you do contract the virus, the odds are on your side. The precautions we take are for others, who would be much more sick and possibly die if they contract the virus. This is the very core of the concept of “Public Health.”

Presented with a disease most people won’t be affected by, will they choose to vaccinate? In an average flu season, sixty thousand Americans die, yet only forty five percent of Americans get a flu shot. We all wear our seat belts and still thirty eight thousand Americans died in automobile accidents blast year. Will we take precautions for something we can not see? It would not be cynical to say “no,” it would be realistic.

All my life, I have been hearing about self sacrifice, giving of yourself to the benefit of others. I have not seen many examples. Perhaps due to the lack of examples, the public mood has moved to a “what’s in it for me” perspective. The nobility of self sacrifice is often denigrated. Issues lack importance until they are knocking on the door. COVID19 is tapping on the window. Bright glowing signs indicating we save ourselves by saving others go unnoticed.

In the end, those lost to COVID19 will never come close to the loss of Jewish lives in the Holocaust; but they may be remembered more. They will be people we know, our peers. Jews remained insulated after the Holocaust, the stories spread decades later as survivors influenced the world. I recall saying to my late wife, “You will be remembered.” She is, because I speak of her. All I needed was for someone to listen.

Six million human beings were killed because they followed a religion. That should be enough. The fact that six million more were killed because they were deemed to be “impure” should shake anyone who has ever doubted themselves. It does not make the Holocaust “random,” the people killed were killed because the state chose each of them, as individuals. The largest targeted group were Jews, would it be different if tomorrow the targeted group was Muslims? What if you lived in a country where your religion did not fit the majority? There are sects which call themselves “Christian” yet behave in abhorrent fashion, what if the state decided that Christians (in general) were a detriment to society?

Listen. Speak. Share the stories about what happens when a government is out of control. Share the stories about what happened to other people when no one cared about them.

Or be a super hero and just care about people different from you.

Cramming for finals

We live most of our lives feeling safe from the terrors of the world. If there were ever to be a problem, we would just roll with it and change the channel on television.

Life itself is the final examination. As I watch the panic around COVID19, I am amused by those not alarmed. COVID19 is a threat to old folks (like me) but younger people will experience nothing more than symptoms of a cold in most cases. This does not mean young people won’t be affected. Infrastructure is falling, all those work from home ideas that were too difficult to accommodate for disabled people are now being forced on all of us. Schools close not so much to protect the children attending, but to protect teachers and to inhibit the spread among children, almost all of whom have a parent or even a grandparent at home who would be at risk if they were exposed.

I watch the scroll of school closings on the bottom of the screen and wonder why they don’t just point out which schools are open. Every school in my county is closed, why list them individually? Philadelphia is resisting, even though many of their teachers are quarantined in Montgomery County; they claim the problem for students not receiving meals without daycare. Yes, you heard that right, The School District of Philadelphia has openly identified itself as “daycare.” Malls are closed, small businesses are closed, are these people being paid? Are we looking at a crises in thirty days when a large percentage of people cannot pay their monthly bills? As young people bemoan the weight of student loans, will the class of 2020 start off with bad credit? Some changes are going to have to take place, or an entire sector of the economy will fail.

I heard about my friend Sergey, he is lucid but unaware of the circumstances, very tired with another surgery scheduled for Monday. I can’t visit him, the hospital is closed to visitors. There are many ways to measure the impact of COVID19.

We are in crisis. Maybe the virus will not make you sick, maybe if it does it will be easy to survive, but the virus has affected you. Sports have simply been cancelled, and those contracts are being honored. All those people making less than forty thousand a year are not quite as comfortable. Those making twenty thousand are pretty much screwed. We’re talking about eighteen percent of wage earners. One in five people destitute. We thought we had a homeless problem before.

We are showing what is important to us. The same government which could not afford a healthcare for all bill because it was too expensive found one and a half trillion dollars to support the stock market. It worked for thirty minutes before dropping back to its fall. Thirty minutes. No point in crying over what could have been funded, just the knowledge that they can afford what they want to.

We are being tested. Put that in whatever frame of reference you want. The question of whether or not we as a species are graceful enough to vaccinate against diseases that are not likely to affect us directly was answered with what I consider a failing grade. Maybe COVID19 presents us with the question of “Do I care enough about other people to wash my hands and avoid contact?” The excuse of “It doesn’t affect me” has been re-framed. It affects all of us in one way or maybe many.

The callous declarations of youth should not be discarded, nor taken at face value. They are, after all not fully developed, and by that I mean to develop sensitivity to others, it helps to have a brain that is fully developed. In humans that happens around the twenty fifth year. They are a generation that has never fought for anything, that has no concept of struggle. Protesting for Marriage Equality may have been the most effort these people ever put into an issue, but I don’t recall any front line casualties in that fight. Life and Death have different meanings to people who have experienced them first hand.

The loss of one million Americans is a big deal. Anyone who acts like it is not should be quarantined from humanity. Diseases we normally feel take too many lives, take fewer than the projected mortality of COVID19. For perspective, only about three million people die in an average year. That is of all causes. The top two, Cancer and Heart disease, kill about one million people every year combined. An easy way of envisioning the factor of risk was posted by a friend the other day:

I keep seeing people, especially younger ones, say “most people that get it are fine, I’m not worried” or some variation of that. I get that we like to feel invincible. However, we’re not. There’s a reason for all this preparation, cancellation, so called “panic”.

To make the consequences of this virus more clear, I came up with an analogy in the form of a game. I’ve done my very best to base this game wholly on probable statistics as released by the WHO and CDC.

To start this game, we have to assume that you have contacted coronavirus.

Now, grab a two deck of cards. Remove the ace of spades from one deck and both aces of clubs. This leaves 101 cards. Each card is approximately equal to 1%.

You must draw one card.

If you are under 50 and healthy, if you draw the remaining Ace of spades, you must flip a coin. Heads you live, tails you die.

If you are under 50 and have heart disease, asthma, diabetes, cancer, or respiratory disease draw one card. If you draw any of the 8 kings, you’re likely dead.

If you’re 50 to 70 years old and healthy, draw one card. If it is any of the five aces you’re likely dead.

One last group, though there are others. If you are over 70 and have any of the conditions listed earlier, draw one card. If that card is ANY Spade or ANY Club, you’re likely dead.

Here’s the worst part. Statistically, if you had to draw a card because you have coronavirus, you have to make 2 or 3 more people draw.

My mother is 75 and has asthma. My grandfather is 99. Hell, I’m 56 and am a smoker (about to try to quit) and just had major dental work.

You may survive the game, but tell me, which of your loved ones are you willing to make play?

I pretty much quit gambling in the nineties, I bet on a horse race in Australia that was being broadcast, my horse had a good twenty yard lead coming into the stretch. Feeling victorious, the jockey stood in the saddle, then promptly fell off the horse. That’s why the horse was fifteen to one, the horse was good but the jockey wasn’t.

We can look at this as a two week vacation in the wilderness, if we can afford two weeks with no incomeWe can look at this as a “hoax,” an overblown non-event, if we are at low risk. We can look at this as a dangerous pandemic which will touch each of us in some way, if we are compassionate about the losses of others. We can look at this as Death chasing us again, if we are at high risk. We all have one thing in common.

We have no choice, we have to look at this.


 

Warning shots

Quaint Jenkintown

 

There are some components of me that appear to be incongruous with each other.

I am a strong supporter of the Second Amendment, even though I do not have the right to possess a firearm. I think everyone should own a firearm, because I believe everyone should understand firearm safety. When I did own firearms, they were for the most part kept unloaded in a safe; ammunition was in a locked container in another closet. “For the most part”, I did have a weapon available at all times. I do not now.

I am a life member of the National Rifle Association (NRA). I support “common sense” gun laws when they actually reflect common sense. Just because gun confiscation sounds like common sense to you does not make it so. I support open carry, in the belief that an armed society is a polite society. Evolution takes place rapidly.

If you have ever seen the television program “The Goldbergs,” you’ve seen my neighborhood. I live in the town it is set in. Really, it is set in Jenkintown, referenced repeatedly, I live in Elkins Park, a few hundred yards away. Forty years later. I don’t expect to meet Ozzie and Harriet at the Wa Wa, but I certainly didn’t expect Archie Bunker. We have a community page on Facebook, people post experiences, the Chief of Police stops by occasionally with an alert or information. It sure feels like Mayberry.

The other day, a local resident reported to the group (no one else) that his dog woke him at 0500, and his “Black Belt” wife went downstairs to investigate. They found a young woman (20 years old, long brown hair, white, thin) sitting on their porch talking on her cell phone. The dog continued barking and jumped at the door, so the woman ran away.

I know what it is like to leave my door unlocked. I live in a high rise so I still do most of the time, I trust my neighbors. I would like to believe that people feel comfortable around me, safe. Apparently, that is not a common sentiment.

The overwhelming responses were of fear and defense. As if this wasn’t just a vulnerable stranger seeking refuge in the darkness but a sinister spy, casing the neighborhood. One woman bragged that she wouldn’t have that “problem,” she was getting her permit for Concealed Carry of a Weapon (CCW) and would shoot them. When asked by a neighbor why she would kill another human being for sitting on her porch, she replied “There is such a thing as a warning shot.”

Before I go any further, THERE IS NOT. There is no such thing as a warning shot, and in my attempt to remind her of the basic rules of firearm safety she said she didn’t need my “opinion.” I can only pray the background checks for her CCW are as vigorous as when I applied. Of all the characters I might expect to see, Annie Oakley was not on the list.

In a thread that included references to communist invasion, Annie was the scariest.

My support of the second amendment runs deep, I see it as the final check in our system of checks and balances. “Blah Blah do you think you can take on the Army?” As a matter of fact, yes. I am no longer allowed to keep weapons, but there should be some lying around from the naive making forward assaults, and I don’t believe the Army will be a formidable threat to its relatives and neighbors. I am a survivor (It’s in the title of the page), people expecting life to go back to normal, to just show up at their office the Monday after the “revolution” are likely to fare poorly.

Now that I know I have Annie Oakley to protect the neighborhood, I am not resting better. I understand why I am not allowed to possess a firearm, and concerned that she is (she may not be, there is no data). I had one little psychotic break, and have little memory of more than twenty four hours. During those hours I had access to what most civilians would refer to as an armory. When they confiscated my firearms, the police were impressed. Had I wanted to do damage, I was well prepared. There is an ever so remote chance I might have a second psychotic break. It’s not worth the risk, I should not have firearms. This does not mean that I automatically think no one else should, but owning a firearm is a responsibility. There is nothing funny about bravado rooted in calibre.

These events make it difficult to support safe firearm ownership. I am often embarrassed by activists on my own “side.” I am still annoyed by the poor arguments around the issue, both pro and con.

We live in a society in which even mentioning politics can result in physical violence. Religions are misunderstood by practitioners, sharing a message becomes impossible. Why? Because for decades mothers told their children “Don’t discuss politics or religion.” The familiarity with the subjects withered, but the gut reactions remained. “Pro-Life” activists assassinate doctors. The same can be said about firearms, they have become alien to the average American. Most people have no idea what to do with a firearm, so begging on common sense don’t. Even very small firearms, say the rim-fire .22 calibre, can be deadly. If you don’t understand that uncontrolled trajectories can result in wounds you could never made on purpose, don’t touch a firearm.

Even if (or maybe because) you are thoroughly anti-gun, teach your children gun safety. In doing so you will learn it yourself. You will know what to fear, and what not to fear. Knowledge is power. Fear (as Frank Herbert so beautifully observed), is the mind-killer.

Don’t be afraid.

Catering to illegal activities

 

I am so very pissed off right now. It appears everyone received a Medicinae Doctor in the mail, and mine never arrived.

Sure, I know the basic stuff, but the ability to diagnose without examination has been denied to me. I’m still maintaining my vaccinations and taking prescription medicine while the truly healthy folks are burning candles with the scent of Gwyneth Paltrow’s vagina. Medicare doesn’t cover them.

Store shelves are vacant of supplies for washing hands. Good thing I developed the habit as a child, and always have soap and water on hand.

I had my routine checkup the other day and my doctor asked if I had any questions about the corona virus. My doctor, a man who knows everything about me, asked if I had any questions; I was a bit put off. “You know I only drink Belgian beers” I replied.

He had another patient, about my age, who chose never to have a flu shot. The patient was rather proud he never had contracted the flu. During his checkup he had a number of questions about the corona virus. The doctor had asked him “What if I told you there is a virus that came to America which has already killed twenty two thousand people, and I have a vaccine for it?” The patient was surprised, “You have a vaccine for corona virus? I thought that was years away.” The doctor said “No, corona virus has only killed twenty Americans, I have a vaccine for the deadly virus, also known as a flu shot.” The patient was not amused in any way, and refused the vaccination.

My girlfriend belongs to a “menopause discussion group,” in which women discuss their issues with the progression of menopause. People who describe symptoms which fit textbook profiles of a malady, are told to try peppermint oil rather than seeing a physician. One thing I remember from my neurologist when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis is that I should not automatically blame any problem on MS. I can still get cancer or tear a muscle.

When Emma had cancer, the well meaning M.D.s out there gave her a variety of alternative therapies to explore. As apposed to hospitals as she was, she embarked on a path of radiation and chemotherapy, followed by surgery, then more radiation and chemotherapy. To their credit, no one said “you should have consumed more asparagus juice” after she died, but one friend said “so she went through all that for nothing?” No, those therapies gave her an additional eight months, no one lives forever.

Recently Philadelphia has danced around the idea of “safe injection sites” for heroin addicts. It is amazing how much local residents understand about addiction. The first, and most common complaint is that by providing safe injection sites, the city is catering to illegal activities (the hardest criticism came from people who need opioids for their condition and are affected by DEA recommendations to reduce dosages; when I was looking into employment at DEA an M.D. was not required) . The missed point is that by using the word “addict,” we are not talking about recreational use. We are talking about people who fit the American Medical Association (AMA) definition of “diseased.” Heroin addiction is no different than Cancer, it is a disease.

Other arguments were about the center being near a school (find a place in Philly that isn’t). They did not seem to grasp that a safe injection site would result in fewer needles on the sidewalk, they would be used and destroyed at the site. As far as “catering” goes, it would very likely be the only exposure addicts would have to actual health professionals, folks who gained their knowledge through schooling as opposed to the grapevine. These professionals would be guiding the addicts towards treatment to end the addiction, and would notice signs of other diseases common to intravenous drug users. For some reason those against preferred dead junkies in the playground.

A theoretical rise in street crime was presented by these criminologists. In fact, the increased police presence around such a center would make the neighborhood safer. Drug dealers would be likely to stay a bit farther away. The natural surveillance of officers seeing who came and went would provide intel for apprehending criminals, with or without a formal surveillance program.

The center withdrew, to the neighborhood’s relief. There are no plans for another site, building in an area where addiction is rampant poses problems for the safety of staff and supplies. If only the folks in South Philly could recognize how rampant heroin abuse is in their own neighborhood already. The center would have prevented it from becoming more like the Kensington area.

I will be wearing gloves when I attend a rally in Harrisburg next month. I’m pretty sure that will be more effective than eucalyptus oil, but smearing myself with garlic would probably work. It’s natural acidity is a proven antibiotic, and folks stay a bit farther away.

Since even the president knows more than the medical profession, I can’t quite figure out why I pay, from my Social Security check, for Medicare. The incessant chant from the masses is “We know Better than Doctors, they’re trying to kill us.” Why are both my taxes and my bank account funding medical services? I have a hunch there might be something behind this “medicine” stuff, something they’re not telling us. They do go to special schools for this nonsense, it sounds like a conspiracy.

It is a conspiracy. Total strangers meet at a special schools, and take oaths in a foreign language, “Primum non nocere.” If people could just figure out what that means, they could stop suggesting fruit diets to those with cancer.

Binary society

 

I gave some thought to this title. I considered “Digital society,” but that does not really convey the meaning I’m looking for. We have moved to a digital society from an analog society in the sense that nuances are seldom considered, things either pass or fail the judgements that are placed on them; but the pass/fail barrier is reached through a binary process, components can only be a single digital response, one or zero. When I say binary I am not talking about the code, in which 1/2/3 is expressed as 1/10/11, I am speaking of the digital logic of yes or no.

If you are X then you are Y. Not a little X and not much Y, once X turns from zero to one, Y equals one.

If you are a Republican you are racist, greedy, selfish, uncaring (sometimes reduced to hateful), and hypocritical. Not one or a few of those, all of those. If you are a Democrat you are pro-choice, socialist (sometimes reduced to communist), bleeding heart, hedonist.

The point you might have missed in that paragraph is the very basis of the decision is rooted in the assumption there are only two choices. (Hidden shocker, THIS is why we will never have a viable “third party.”)

Humans, and Americans in particular, have difficulty considering alternatives; life becomes one all or nothing decision after another. As one of the most basic insights into the phenomena, consider the average number of limbs on a human.

You thought “four,” with the logic people are people, I’m average, I have four limbs. The actual number is 3.97. As your brain tries to consider the specifics about that 0.97 limb, you are distracted by the equations for the various combinations of limbs possible. That took a little more time than just stating “four,” efficiency is antithesis to creativity. That may sound ironic, as part of my tours for a winery, I would compare efficiency to “lazy,” the easiest way to accomplish one’s goals. When a life goal is taking a selfie, efficiency is lacking in merit.

The origin of my thoughts today was an exchange on social media between a reader and a journalist whose career mirrored newspapers. In the reader’s defenses to her blatant radical sexism, she stated “Women are an enormous majority, I don’t understand how anyone can be anti-woman.” Now let me list the order in which the errors in that statement affected me.

First, I know that percentage is close to fifty (the actual number is 50.8). Second, I realized if there were more than two possibilities, 50.8 percent could be interpreted as “enormous.” Third, I realized mentioning that there are more than two possibilities would derail the conversation, the subject would become sexuality. Fourth, is anyone actually “anti-woman”? This sequence took less than one second.

I’m pretty sure, even with every possible variation, 50.8 percent can not be judged as enormous. Transgender people and various genetic deformations may create dozens of possible demographics. Sure, there are far more “women” than “intersex” people, but the default position is there are two possibilities, a trans woman is a woman, a trans man is a man. This of course blossomed into sexual orientations, and all the infinite ways we restrict a spectrum to a binary issue.

I grew up monogamous. As far as I knew, the alternative was toxic, destructive to participant’s souls. In being a faithful husband, I was betrayed. For revenge I betrayed my next wife. Neither time did I feel clean, I felt degraded, objectified. My third wife was perfect, life was perfect, then she died and I knew perfection existed, and was not restricted; I could love again. Somewhere a group of women gathered under the old moon to take their turns building me up and then cutting me off at the knees. Then I met a woman who was polyamorous.

Two old straight folk on the streets of NYC


Polyamory was a third choice, not binary. It helped me in seeing how many choices there are out there. I had always been bisexual, and I met the most incredible bisexual polyamorous woman in the world. The fact that when we went out, we looked like a straight couple was not lost on us. We were both bisexual and understood things are not always as they appear. So now we live in very cozily in a relationship that appears to be “monogamous” and “straight”. That’s not three choices, that’s like twenty seven.

American society only supports two choices. Give them three and you will be denigrated, give them twenty seven and you can be excommunicated.

Deep inside I believe Homo Sapiens is in the process of evolution. In the same sense I can separate the Old Testament God and the New Testament Jesus, I can separate the Binary human from the Spectral Human. Often the trait is not acknowledged, it may not effect the involved individual in any way they notice. One easy way to see from the outside is to observe their beliefs. How many positions are black and white, and how many are grey? If you are a spectral, you will be able to see where on the spectrum they are, depending of course where on the spectrum you are.

I rejected much of this thinking in my youth, feeling comfort in black and white. I didn’t have to think, leaving my mind clear for other pursuits. The efficiency of the growth process later yielded to a comfort in multiple dimensions, up/down, left/right, forward/backward, color, volume, tone, and infinite measurements.

I am not suggesting that anyone try to change who they are. It does not work, as evidenced by hundreds of “conversion therapy” clinics. You can stretch your mind no further than it is capable, there may only be four lights, you see what you see.

 

There are certainly more than two


The question might be, “What color are they?”

 

That isn’t what I said

“it depends on what the meaning of ‘is’ is”?

 

I make every attempt to be honest on this blog. I allow any comments which do not contain messages of hate, and never edit anyone’s words. The few edits I have made other than spelling in my own words is noted, and typically accredited. Maybe because I know that once it’s on the internet, it’s forever. Kind of like a tattoo.

I was astounded back in the nineties when Clinton denied saying things which had been preserved on tape, and when Obama “walked back” from statements he had made to the press.

But the most unreal thing I have seen in the world of communication is the deletion of tweets (twits). This takes place in other forms of social media, but the twitterverse is just too funny. I checked, I have an account, and I just could not figure out how you can make a Freudian twit; or how you can say something that is instantly seen by millions and think deleting it will be seen as anything other than your shame for being an idiot.

My personal guide has always been “Don’t publish any remark that you would not want engraved on the Washington Monument.” No one has tried to engrave any of my remarks, but you never know. . .

As much as we like to believe no one is listening, someone always is. At least one in four homes actually paid to have a wiretap. How much has changed since I was repairing a printer for The Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom and was asked if I was tapping their phones. They were such a sweet old paranoid bunch. Today they probably all carry cell phones, their every movement tracked. Janice was on a conversation thread on Facebook and said “Gen Xers don’t use Snapchat.” This morning she had an email from Snapchat.

The desire to change the public record is just as obnoxious as censorship. Changing a statement because it contains an offensive word is not in the same league as finding a typo. I suggest the proper way to change a word should be to strike it and leave it in place, i.e. “Censorship sucks is really nice.” The original intent remains to be considered.

Deletions have been so common that there are websites which publish only deleted tweets. This has been going on so long you would think people would be aware of the futility of self censorship. That of course is the important part of the equation. They don’t think. They do not think when they twit, and then do not think when they delete. Enough instances can make you believe they have never thought at all.

“Drunken Twits,” emotions bared under the influence of alcohol, are curious. The twitter was too intoxicated to know it was the wrong thing to say, yet managed to avoid any spelling or grammatical errors in a complex racist attack.

I never cared for the twitterverse in the first place, when a friend introduced it as the font of all knowledge I knew better. Group decisions are indeed better than those made by an individual in certain applications; but the studies which indicate that trend refer to groups of people experienced in the topic considered, not random keyboard warriors in the twitterverse. When someone makes that argument they are revealing their lack of knowledge; believing the title of a study is equal to the conclusion and that it applies to all applications.

Self censorship has always existed, politics is full of “misspoken” episodes. I would much rather a person acknowledge what they said (or twitted or whatever), clearly state what was wrong with it, and what they “meant,” precisely, when they said it. “You know what I mean” is no excuse for poor communication skills.

We have become so involved in “making words our own” that not everyone knows what we’re saying. I understand misunderstood words, that the statement meant something completely different than it was interpreted. When a word is misinterpreted, so is the meaning. I’m not sure why, but I usually know precisely what someone means. Maybe my insight into languages makes me more aware of non verbal cues and inflection. Emma was so mono-cultured that she could not understand the words on Monty Python. My last wife could not understand Flemish in the dialect of her father, who was from Bree, she grew up in Kessel-lo. (Flemish has eleven distinct dialects; fewer than seven million people speak the “language,” which is actually a dialect of Dutch.)

Misunderstandings should be understandable, yet I frequently see bitter arguments rooted in semantic differences. In these instances, seeing the crossed out word makes it clear it wasn’t an intentional (or in the example; it was) “mistake.” When Mike Bloomberg feigns bewilderment about a sexual harassment suit with “I don’t know, maybe she didn’t like a joke I told” you know he knows precisely what was said and he’s trying to defend his language. I think he would have been more effective had he said “Sure, I said ‘How do you get a one armed blond out of a tree?’ when she broke her arm.” If he then gives the punch line (You wave to her) he didn’t understand the point of the suit.

It is normal to misspeak. To deny that the words were offensive means you don’t understand the offense. To explain that it was not meant as a personal offense means you lack a filter. To deny you said the words means you are an asshole.

It is often said that generations who wouldn’t talk about politics or religion has resulted in a generation that doesn’t understand religion or politics. We all do better when everyone makes an effort to be understood.

Otherwise it is only intentional obfuscation.

Dow Jones is a unicorn

The Dow Jones average, which some people use as a measure of economic health, is a make believe number, It represents the value of a number of stocks if you sold them when the measurement was taken; by the time you read it, it has changed. Stock values are much like the prices of the paintings in my house, they are worth whatever someone will pay.

Is this 3’X4′ painting worth $40,000? The artist offered that just to get it off the market in 1982

In the big crash of 2002, everyone was talking about how much they lost (I actually gained 0.01). Those people retired ten years later and had not lost a thing. It had almost doubled its closing price of 2002, increasing over two thousand points. Over the last three sessions, it has dropped three thousand six hundred ninety two points, almost equal to the entire index in 2012. But the closing price is in the range of twenty five thousand now, large sweeps are actually small when looked at as a percentage.

The first Dow Jones average, of 26 May 1896, was 40.95. By 1929 it had gown to a high of 381 following several years of “bull” markets. With the Great Depression outside the window, someone had the foresight that the values were inflated and took a step back in October. Panic ensued as the market dropped 23% to 299 points. To match that drop today the market would have to fall over five thousand points in one day.

This fall is being blamed on COVID19, the corona virus. In response, the president formed a task force consisting of the Vice President, who thought the cure for AIDS was prayer and that smoking wasn’t dangerous, and the secretary of the treasury. Because the President of the United States knows what is important to the people. A healthy stock market. I would have chosen someone with a medical background to head the task force, but those voices have been muted, requiring clearance from the Vice President before making any statements which contradict the official line. But the Secretary of Commerce says the virus could bring jobs to America. There must be a shortage of undertakers. As the president does not believe the virus is a problem (In contrast to every other medical authority), he failed to provide the most important precaution; wash your hands.

Sorry for the detour, the point was that the stock market, and the Dow Jones Average, is a confidence game. When investors lose confidence, the market drops. A company that is growing can see its stock price fall if the CEO makes an unpopular remark, or because its name is similar to a virus. Corona Beer is down 4% this week.

The stock market remains a good investment, it always rises; except when it doesn’t. Long term investments are safe, unless that term ends during a crash. Short term investments, day trading for example, exists for the enrichment of those who can see those odd remarks and play with the effect they have. For the majority of us who don’t spend our lives reading the Financial Times, those little daily jumps up and down can seem disastrous.

I took a few days off and the average has bounced back. The money “lost” was by people who sold short, those who bought at the low point got some real steals. Those that just sat back and watched neither “won” or “lost,” they just stayed in the game.

In conclusion, the Dow Jones is meaningless, the average of make believe numbers. Don’t let it affect your blood pressure. Just wash your hands.

Age of majority

Social drinking is allowed

There are a variety of opinions about the age of majority. It is the age at which you are no longer a minor, and a part of the majority of the population. That is a relatively “ageist” concept, any age below fifty would qualify by that definition. The importance of the age of majority is that it is when you are considered an adult, so it seems a bit odd to some folks that we have at least two different ages of majority recognized in America.

At eighteen you can sign a contract, buy a rifle, vote, and enlist in the military. You can’t buy tobacco products, alcohol, or a handgun until you are twenty one. The age at which you can marry depends on the state you live in, and the age at which your brain is fully developed is generally recognized as twenty five; which is also the age to which you may remain on your parent’s health insurance. Perhaps you can see the disparities here.

Arguments continue over what age constitutes being a child, such as when it is appropriate to charge a person with a crime as an adult; i.e. an eleven year old who premeditates murder. Depending on one’s point of view, an eighteen year old can be a man if he is committing a crime, or a child if he is the victim.

Conflicts are natural. When I was younger the voting age was twenty one. The age to enlist in the military (as well as to register for the draft)  was eighteen. The argument to alter the voting age was “If they’re old enough to fight in war, they should be allowed to vote on the positions that send them to war.” It was a reasonable argument, so rather than raise the age to enlist to twenty one in the midst of the Vietnam war, the voting age was lowered to eighteen. The war ended, but people who are seven years away from brain maturity are still allowed to choose national leaders. I haven’t seen any improvement in the choices made.

Ruger LCP .380 MSRP $349.00

The other day, I heard a similar argument. The state of Kentucky is considering a bill that would allow eighteen year olds to purchase handguns. “If they’re old enough to go to war, why can’t they have handguns?” was the argument from many gun owners and veterans I spoke with. There is an incredible difference between an M16 and a .380 pistol, and as far as I can remember, there was zero handgun training when I was in the military. The people who complain when anti constitution people argue without knowing the subject were doing the same.

Ruger AR15, MSRP $799.00

 

The age to buy a handgun was raised in 1968, as part of the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968 with the stated purpose of eliminating “Saturday Night Specials;” cheap pistols one could pick up without any background check. Anti-constitution people routinely confuse the AR15, the most common hunting rifle in America, with the M16, a fully automatic weapon of war.

 

An actual M16, sale price $31,399 plus licensing fees, assuming they are allowed in your state

 

If the bill in Kentucky should pass, an eighteen year old who could pass a background check and come up with about $500 for the pistol, ammunition, and a little time on the range could have a handgun. Cheaper guns are available, I received a .380 free when I joined a private shooting range in the 80s. The argument that they could be “sent off to war” is blatantly false, the first argument is that there is no draft, the military is a volunteer service. In addition, joining the military is not at all common. Seventy one percent of young people are ineligible for service, recruiters are missing goals, and the percentage of young people in the military is far below what many people believe it to be. Sharing this information with rabid gun rights enthusiasts resulted in replies suggesting I am on drugs.

What we, as a society, need to recognize is that age alone is not an indicator of maturity. I have known intellectually and emotionally mature teenagers, as well as immature and reckless grandparents. Our measure of maturity should not be based on our lives, we matured long ago. The world today is different, and it changes every minute. That is what we are supposed to have learned through our years of exposure.

Whatever ability, or “right,” is restricted by age may have millions of different reasons for the restriction; ranging from logical to ridiculous. The most logical path to me has to do with brain maturity, an easily measured arbitrator. Of course it does not apply to some people, nothing applies to one hundred percent of the population. Making the age of majority twenty five would be very inconvenient for most of America, but it would certainly be the safest route. Any age restriction assumes the tacit agreement that the years of restriction include education about the subject restricted. And that is where we as a society fail.

“Hot Topics” are avoided, resulting in shouting matches rather than informed discussion. Religion and Politics are more confused today than they were in my childhood, largely because they don’t get discussed. Even people who feel they understand a topic can be horribly misinformed. I strongly support the Constitution, and routinely find myself in arguments with people who claim to be on my side of the issue. One example is the legislation in Kentucky, held within a pro gun group. I was the only person against the legislation out of nearly four hundred responses. It hurts to realize that I am dissonant in an echo chamber made up of people I thought were like me. It makes me feel like the people I defend are not worthy of my efforts, they really are “gun nuts.”

The age of majority should be synonymous with the age of reason, but there is no way such a concept could be legislated. The majority is unreasonable.

 

 

Standards

 

Dutch political poster. “Believe no poster. Inform Yourself”

 

 

I have been presented with a number of issues relating to the welfare of others. Universally I can see how American citizens are better off than most other populations. We have one right, secured from our government in its first documents. We have the right to complain.

Free speech does not imply educated speech, which in many ways is the point of our first amendment to the constitution. There are no standards, anyone can speak. It is our individual responsibility to discern truth from opinion. It remains our responsibility to determine the value of various opinions. For the most part, humans lean towards the definition of the borderline personality (severe leanings result in the label of “Borderline Personality Disorder”); thinking in a “digital” manner, black or white, good or bad, etc. Another faction of people understand that there is a grey area, yet that often leads them to believe that only three positions exist, black, white, and grey.

In my days as a photographer, I preferred studies of grey. Colors are often disputed, what I call purple you may call pink, yet the color of the object doesn’t change. The cones in your eye may produce a different sensation than mine, but the actual color remains the same regardless of the name we give to it. It does not have to be a matter of perception, we may have learned the names of colors from different teachers. Grey is not quite as easy. Grey is standardized, named by its reflection of light. Eighteen percent grey is referred to as “medium grey,” it is a photographic standard. It may be the shade that comes to mind when you hear the word “grey,” or anything that is neither black nor white.

A grey scale, drawn with pencils by my friend Vince Natale

 

Colors, including grey, give us visual standards. Words are radically different. Combinations of words are far more complex than combining colors, yet the same style of logic, “Black or White,” is applied. Good or Bad, Right or Wrong, Love or Hate, are all things we recognize as opposites, but should also recognize as spectra. Adding to the confusion is the popularity of creating new words, or new definitions of old words, the exact same script can mean different things to different people. The fact that a sense of humor is subjective causes even more confusion.

What is a joke? Is it funny (and again to whom?), is it satire (with what intention?), is it merely camouflage for hatred? Far too many times I have heard what I interpreted as an attack excused as “I was only joking.” I just can not find demeaning other human beings as anything resembling a joke. For my black and white contribution, forgiving hatred as a joke is merely expressing the same hatred yourself.

Our world is not black or white. There is good within bad things and bad within good. Much of the interpretation revolves around who is benefiting, and who is being persecuted. The love of my life was connected to the Mafia. She did not see the Mafia as “good guys,” but she did see them as acceptable. She began to see the level of conflict when one of our dear friends, a Lebanese woman who filled a maternal role in our lives, suggested that Hezbollah was a good organization, “just like the Mafia, helping out poor people.” Emma could see the parallels being drawn, she heard her own excuses for “her people” being used by our friend for her people. Emma was a very black or white thinker, she cut most of her ties to the Mafia. When the issue came up at family gatherings she would not participate.

In my experiences in the LGBTQ world, I am a Bisexual. the word “bisexual” gives the immediate impression of the root “bi,” or “two.” These days, such a definition is seen as restrictive, offensive to those not covered by the historic definitions of sex. These people (Pansexuals) believe that because they do not feel restricted to only two sexes, people who are bisexual are separate, lesser for their restrictions. Before I go any further, let me explain how wrong the belief is. The history of the LGBTQ population did not start in 1979, but that is when it became more acceptable to speak about it. By 1990, the presence of those of us who are not strictly attracted to one sex was recognized. The world is not populated by people who are heterosexual and homosexual, the spectrum includes many variations. Some homosexuals are only attracted to members of their own sex, some are not. The term “bisexual” was adopted by these outsiders and expressed in The Bisexual Manifesto. Within that document, is the conclusion “Nothing should be assumed about anyone’s sexuality.” The Pansexuals have made assumptions. Also within that document of thirty years ago is “Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. . . don’t assume that there are only two genders.” Personally, I prefer the label “Queer;” everyone can understand that word means “different.” To me, the issue of bisexuality v pansexuality is an extension of every other prejudice; assuming another group is inferior. There is no difference between these two groups, other than the egos involved.

When we look at immigrants, almost everyone imposes their own prejudices. Mine is fairly simple and straightforward, derived largely from my own sponsorship of an alien. She didn’t like the word “alien,” saying it wasn’t used in other countries. She had learned English in England, where “buitenaards” was translated to her as “Foreigner.” Other dictionaries translate it to the word “alien.” She was a white person from Northern Europe, her naturalization did not take long.  At her swearing in ceremony there were new Americans from all over the globe, one had been in America for thirty years; that does not mean she had waited thirty years to get through immigration. I had a German roommate at one time who had been in America for thirty years and had no desire to become an American.

I see a legal path to citizenship, and people not willing to undergo the process. Failing to follow the legal path is illegal, therefore those people are illegal immigrants. There are many sad stories told about illegal immigrants, some of them are true. Many of the people attempting to immigrate are well educated, the majority is not. Facing the hurdle of the Department of Homeland Security (which now handles Immigration) can be difficult for someone who cannot write in their own language. There are thousands of reasons people choose to illegally immigrate, but it is still a choice, a decision. So I do not have immediate sympathy for people unwilling to follow the legal path. Does that make me “bad,” or “heartless”? I am somewhere on the spectrum, and probably the worst judge of my self.

As we progress through this election cycle, you will hear many judgements. Consider that an exceptionally small percentage of the people making these judgements are qualified in any way to do so. Is the person saying that Biden is senile a doctor? Is the person saying that Sanders is crazy a psychiatrist? The list is endless. As the Dutch political poster above says, believe no poster, inform yourself. Use your standards, not someone else’s description of their standards. Their grey may be your purple.

 

 

 

Proper sentencing

Justice delayed is justice denied, but what exactly is justice?

Our judgemental society demands justice on a regular basis, largely because most people do not feel that justice has occurred. In addition, they do not truly wish for justice, they want revenge. It helps to understand the meaning of the word “Justice.”

Our old friend Merriam Webster defines justice as “the maintenance or administration of what is just especially by the impartial adjustment of conflicting claims or the assignment of merited rewards or punishments.” Simply put, justice is a process, not a result. People crying for justice most often want punishment, and most of the time they want a punishment which they define as “just.”

Donald Trump received justice in the form of an impeachment. He was found not guilty by a jury of his friends, which may not appear “just.” Had he been found guilty, there are many punishments which do not include being removed from office, and require that the defendant possess a conscience, one that includes the quality of shame. In truth, had he been found guilty and not removed from office, how many would feel that “justice had been served”? How many would be satisfied if he was censured?

Punishment largely depends on the person being punished. My partner tells the story of the worst punishment she ever delivered to her five year old daughter. She made her place her life size Barbie in the “time out” corner. Her daughter was horrified and behaved well for the following ten years. At one point I was incarcerated, and faced what could have been a substantial portion of my life behind bars. Perhaps because I am an optimist, I was not horrified by the prospect. I intended to write in my solitude, perhaps drawing inspirations from my fellow inmates. A suicidal person may not be deterred by a death sentence. At what point is the punishment of a life sentence recognized by the prisoner? On the first or last moment?

Life in prison is largely thought to be the most severe punishment. People tend to look at prison as an awful environment, a daily punishment. Many prisoners do not share that view. In my short time behind bars I saw the new prisoners arrive every day, and it was more like a reunion. Recidivism was the norm, everyone knew each other. This was not always a good thing, my cellmate recognized someone who had threatened him with violence previously.

Length of sentence is a factor, not because of the days inside, but because of the world outside. The common prisoner is not well educated or skilled, on release they may not be able to qualify for employment in a world that passed them by. They may not be able to function with the level of technology we take for granted. They may have lost loved ones, who continued their lives and became involved in other relationships; or children who aged, denying the prisoner their childhood. In determining length of sentence, much more should be considered than just the crime. A twenty year old sentenced to thirty years has had their life removed. A seventy year old sentenced to ten years may have well been sentenced to life. A life sentence does not necessarily mean death in prison.

The proper sentence for someone who has caused a death is often believed to be the death penalty. This is more “eye for an eye” than practical punishment. Those against the death sentence suggest life imprisonment, with the belief the prisoner will feel the guilt of their offense for the remainder of their life. If they feel no guilt they at least have the punishment of being removed from society. Today, a death sentence is unlikely to result in death, and the life sentence leaves many believing they will be released, either because of societal changes or appeals.

We form punishments based on what we fear, not what the criminal fears.

Harvey Weinstein was just found guilty in two of the five crimes he was accused of. He has lived under accusal for over two years, once charged he was allowed freedom with restrictions such as an ankle monitor. During this time, he has been removed from his company and watched it face bankruptcy. He has been unable to work, and with any luck unable to sexually violate other women. He wasn’t the picture of health to begin with, although I believe his apparent “disabilities” were falsified in the interest of leniency by the court. The man who once said “You’ll never work in this town again” will more than likely never work in that town again.

What would be a just punishment? Regardless of the comfort of his prison, it will never come close to his mansions. He will eternally carry the label of “Rapist,” although that has not slowed Roman Polanski much. With minimum sentences he will be in his mid seventies when he is released, assuming his health does not fail. His life, from what we see as his point of view, is destroyed, but is that enough? What if he’s an optimist?

Friedrich Nietzsche warned of the inherent dangers of prosecution, “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” The truth within this is most often denied, which he also spoke of, “Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.”

Finding the proper punishment requires understanding the monster who is being punished. We consider these people noble because they have not become monsters themselves. Yet when they do not mete out the punishment we desire, we consider them monsters.

We all peer into the abyss, the result is most often known only by ourselves.

The value of Intel

Julius Caesar and his advisors

 

While many people lacked surprise at President Trump’s removal of Director of National Intelligence (DNI) Joseph Mcguire, I was appalled. Shooting the messenger can be a bad move, poking your eyes out is worse.

The DNI coordinates the various agencies in the committee, creating National Intelligence Estimates (NIEs) that are as insightful as possible. The position was created in the aftermath of 9/11, when the president was overwhelmed by competitive and sometimes conflicting intel. Don’t be surprised, each agency has its own value to prove, sharing intel between agencies has always been dicey. I’m going to use the names you are familiar with rather than the nicknames they have. The FBI is charged with a counterintelligence mission, thwarting foreign intel. The FBI is only authorized to operate within the United States. The CIA is charged with intelligence gathering, their theatre is strictly outside the United States. The intel of one is crucial to the other, yet they are in competition with each other to produce results.

There are seventeen major agencies that you may be aware of, and over twelve hundred that you are probably not aware of, each chasing their own prescribed threats according to their specialties. There is very little respect among them, each believing they are the best, sometimes thwarting other agencies to remain so. You are no doubt aware of situations in your own experience in which one law enforcement agency refused access to another, it works the same in the intel community.

By removing the DNI, Trump has created an environment of fear within the community. “Don’t tell the boss bad news or he’ll fire you” can be deadly. Prior to the Cuban Missile crises, the Kennedy administration belittled Nikita Kruschev, and publicly stated that he would never bring nuclear missiles to Cuba. At the time, intel was presented to the President by the United States Intelligence Board, which provided an estimate that the Soviets were unlikely to base nuclear missiles in Cuba. The current consensus is that the Board knew that the Kennedy Administration would discount any other conclusion because it had already publicly dismissed it. Intelligence officials and White House advisers knew that bringing forward an estimate contrary to the Administration’s position could damage their careers or weaken their influence in future debates. Sound familiar?

It took the death of U-2 pilot Rudolf Anderson Jr., and the subsequent words of Airman 1st Class Michael Davis; “Major, take a look at this, I think you’d better call the colonel” when he saw cigar shaped tubes in the photographs, to provide the fortitude required to brief President Kennedy with the truth. (Full disclosure, Airman Davis was a member of my wing, the 544th SIW; I’m still rather proud).

Trump has denigrated the intel community before, but removing the DNI because he didn’t like the NIE is reminiscent of Caesar ignoring the call to beware of the Ides of March. We can only hope the results are personal to Trump rather than the downfall of our nation.

The president has created the visage of a ruthless tyrant. That may have served him well in the corporate jungle, but as a world leader he looks more like Kim Jong-un. Fear of reprisal destroys the community, and there is every reason to believe he will be lovingly sabotaged. Without intel there is no insight.

Every president has had intel blunders, even after 9/11 Obama ignored NIEs about Russian cyber threats, setting up Secretary of State Clinton’s cyber naivete. But dismissing the DNI and replacing him with a civilian with zero experience is insane.

Your impression of spooks may be formed by James Bond or Jason Bourne. My experience is radically different. The point is to not stand out in a crowd, just accomplish your mission in silence. In that silence we are often forgotten, which was the purpose from the beginning. In doing so, we have no glory, only medals locked in a box somewhere. The public probably shouldn’t even know who is the DNI, our service is clearly labeled clandestine. Michael Davis wasn’t recognized for over fifty years.

You should seriously question a president who publicly denigrates the community.

 

Resistance

 

On 18 February, a young Lutheran woman (Sophie, 21) and her brother (Hans, 24) were distributing pamphlets at the university they attended. It was night, so they were just leaving stacks of pamphlets in the hallway. Although Sophie had initially been a party enthusiast, restrictions on her freedom, such as being forced to teach kindergarten in order to be admitted to the university so she could study biology, caused her to speak against the party and the socialist government it had formed. A janitor saw them and called the police, who came and arrested them.

Like any activists, they had wanted their group to appear large and spoke of their movement as popular. Two others from their group had also been arrested. They were seen as enemies of the state and were questioned for four days, culminating with their trial, for which a special judge had been sent from the capital. They were found guilty of treason. They bravely faced their fate, Sophie saying “Such a fine, sunny day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?” After their trial, they were allowed to see their parents. Sophie smiled stoically, not showing any fear. Their mother offered Sophie some candy, which she accepted saying “Gladly, after all, I haven’t had any lunch!” Magdalena Scholl, told Sophie to “Remember Jesus” as she left.

Later that day, they accepted their sentences. Death by guillotine. Seventy seven years ago today.

The party which they had been protesting was the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, also referred to by it’s acronym, NAZI . The woman was Sophie Scholl. Their resistance group was called “The White Rose.” Over the following year several other members of their group met the same fate, for the crime of nonviolent resistance, writing and distributing pamphlets.

Today, I and millions of others wear a white rose (that’s mine above), as a remembrance Of Sophie and nonviolent resistance.  We resist different things, but we do so without violence. In my lifetime, I have been in several resistance movements, starting with the civil rights movement of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who said “We adopt the means of nonviolence because our end is a community at peace with itself. We will try to persuade with our words, but if our words fail, we will try to persuade with our acts.” Dr. King was assassinated fifty two years ago. While violence has been used in pursuit of my various goals, it has been a last resort. As one of my colleagues said in the eighties, the conversation is over when you start shooting.

Champions of peace and nonviolence rarely die in their sleep. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was with his grandnieces in the garden when he was assassinated at age 78. He had been accepting of Muslims and was blamed for their violence.  John Winston Ono Lennon was assassinated as he returned home by a madman who wanted to be famous.  Bantu Stephen Biko was assassinated by South African police by way of twenty eight days of beatings.

Nonviolence is routinely met with violence, a sad irony. Most people picture “resistance” as the French resistance of World War Two, romanticized by Earnest Hemingway in For Whom the Bell Tolls. Little is said about places like the village of Chambon-sur-Lignon, which successful disguised the presence of five thousand refugees.

Hermine “Miep” Gies, the Dutch woman who helped hide a fifteen year old Anne Frank until betrayed by a neighbor, is not often recalled as a member of the resistance. Nonviolent resistance is quiet, acts of violence grab the headlines. The millions of LGBTQ+ people who have led successful lives under the radar are seldom thought of as a resistance members, because they resist the accepted norms of society by merely existing; when they are discovered they routinely pay with their lives, or at very least their social standing and vocation.

Most everyone has heard of “Pride” without recognizing its origin. The LGBTQ+ Pride movement originated in New York City, springing from the ashes of days of riots. Today millions gather for Pride events, proud they can be who they are without being victimized, seldom recognizing the brutality of the straight factions their forebears encountered. Today calling a trans woman “just a man in a dress” is seen as bigotry, when in my youth it would have been seen as victorious recognition, the alternative being death by beating.

Sophie Scholl was not the first person to resist tyranny, nor the last flame of an old idea. People have been resisting since Abel displayed his faith before his brother, who killed him with a rock. People continue to resist tyranny today all over the world. Resisting the President of the United States by revealing illegal behavior was met by an insistence to know the resister’s identity. No one thinks the President was going to shake his hand; that tyrant consistently destroys anyone who opposes him, calling for violence from his supporters or worse from foriegn governments.

Resist, even if it is only by your life continuing under oppression.

 

S

The system of party politics

 

In America, we call our design of a democratic republic a two party system. This is to differentiate ourselves from the former Soviet republic, which operated what they called democracy with a one party system. With only one candidate in an election, the choice available gave the impression of choosing a leader. At least that is what Big Brother told us to think. We still think we have two choices, so I suppose well placed propaganda is working.

Other countries, such as Brazil, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Mexico, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Pakistan, Portugal, Romania, Serbia, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Taiwan, Philippines, and South Korea, operate with a multi party system. In these countries no single party wins a majority of votes, so no single party is in power. Parties build coalitions in order to legislate. People learn to work together.

In America we do have “Third Parties,” candidates who do not agree with either of the two parties. “Third” is a misnomer, in 2016 there were sixteen “third” parties; a better word is “alternative” candidates, because they present an alternative, whichever sub-group they represent. Our two parties have changed over the years, changing both names and philosophies. Republicans in 2020 would not recognize Republicans of 1860. I can’t tell the difference between Republicans and Democrats today.

The benefits of multiple parties include better representation. Look at the Democratic Party in 2020, split into factions of “Social Democrats,” Progressives,” “Traditional (without understanding the tradition of forming the KKK) Democrats,” and other fringe groups who still feel the need to vote for Democrats. All those people, at their various points along the spectrum, have a single “choice” at the polls. The majority of them will not vote for the candidate they want, instead they will vote “against” the Republican candidate. This fits the definition of “divisive” quite well. If they were multiple parties, each party would have the “strength” of their constituents; the percentage of votes, and elected positions, would reflect the actual positions of the populace. Coalitions formed between the various parties would better represent all the people.

Our two party system has devolved into the one party system we fear. Donald Trump was a lifelong Democrat, until he saw the opportunity of running as a Republican. Michael Bloomberg has been a lifelong Republican, until he saw the opportunity to run as a Democrat. Both parties include people who use the party to get elected without supporting that party’s ideals; “Rinos” and Dinos” are Republicans in name only or Democrats in name only. The one thing almost all Americans can agree on is that all politicians lie. Yet they cling to the “two party” system.

Alternative parties rarely get meaningful votes, in 2016 they received about 5.7% of the total, enough to “spoil” close local races. Because the overwhelming number of voters believe no third party candidate can win; combined with the instinct to “pick the winner” rather than vote their beliefs, people who might have voted for a third party chose a member of the two parties, no matter how repulsive that candidate was. Large numbers of Americans of both parties stated they “Held their nose and pulled the lever” for the candidate of their traditional party, because neither candidate represented their traditional party. The contest was won by the person who the majority hated the least. Looking at our process from arms length, has it ever appeared odd that in a country of over three hundred twenty seven million people, there are only two qualified to be president?

What it takes to end this is for voters to act as if they believe in the democratic process. In 1992 Ross Perot captured 18.91% of the popular vote, not enough in any single state to win, but he did come in second in two states. If the Electoral college had operated on percentage of votes in the state rather than winner take all, he would have had a few electoral votes. We, as Americans, need to vote for candidates who represent our desires instead of voting for the candidate who we hate the least. If twenty percent of Americans voted for the fictitious party “Healthcare for all,” twenty percent of the government would be pressing legislation for healthcare for all. The coalition of “Healthcare for all,” “Free college for all,” “monetarily disadvantaged,” and “Mandatory Vaccinations” might represent a majority, and the desired Healthcare for all could make its way through a congress split into sixteen separate parties.

Our election this year once again provides a perfect opportunity. In a projected Trump/Bloomberg contest both Republicans and Democrats will be in the difficult position of actually having to think about which candidate they dislike the most. I implore you to consider the third party candidates, of which there are presently eleven. One commentator recently said a smaller shit sandwich is still a shit sandwich. If a reasonable number of Americans decide they don’t want to express support for any shit sandwich, the possibility of multiple parties will be recognized. Our electoral process will be on the way to actually representing the people of America.

Just as in 2016, I am fairly certain that I don’t want either the Republican or Democrat candidate as my president. Since I will be unhappy either way, I will be voting for an “alternate.” Which alternate I choose will be decided in October, when I have had time to research them in more depth. You can be certain I won’t be voting for Vermin Supreme, he sounds too much like the major party candidates at first glance.

Evolution

Most people accept the theory of evolution to be true. It can be seen in many species, in some cases documented in progress. It is often used as the definition of belief in science; lack of “belief” in evolution is often a pejorative for poor education, or in attacks on fundamentalist Christians. I get that one, there is nothing in the Bible that is inconsistent with evolution. Why fundamentalists deny it does indeed point to a failure of education.

I am often confused as to why anyone would fight the actual process of evolution, and I see daily examples.

In case you don’t understand the process of evolution, organisms with beneficial genes survive to reproduce, those with detrimental genes do not. Often, detrimental genes do not prohibit reproduction; a gene which shortens life to thirty years could very easily be passed on by an organism which reproduces at age twenty.

Amy Schumer, who may or may not be a comedian depending on your sense of humor, recently spoke of her experience with In-Vitro-Fertilization (IVF). Doctors were able to retrieve thirty five eggs from her, of which twenty eight fertilized. Of those, only one was viable. On average, about fifty percent of fertilized eggs result in viable embryos; it appears nature did not want Ms. Schumer to reproduce, but she wasn’t interested in Nature’s opinion.

Science is a province of exploration, we often find ways to do things which are more harmful than helpful. A great example is nuclear weapons. Just because we can does not mean we should. If one’s genetic makeup causes infertility, why would one wish to pass those genes on to another generation?

There are certainly instances in which infertility is not caused by undesirable genes, or are there? When someone has cancer, and treatment makes them infertile, do we really want to spread a genetic chain which is susceptible to cancer? If someone is infertile due to their behavior, do we want the genes which caused that behavior passed on to our grandchildren’s world?

The Darwin Awards, so named because the participants have improved the human genome by removing themselves from it, are a humorous recognition of stupid fatal behavior. Unfortunately, most of the participants have already reproduced.  Not everything is caused by genetics, but I strongly believe that common sense is an inherited trait.

Medicine, in general, is a fight against genetics. Long after I had produced four children, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). There is no identified genetic link to MS, so it is unlikely I passed it on to my children. Other traits linked to genetics are frequently modified, starting with plastic surgery and continuing through geriatrics, in which we attempt to prolong life. An increasing amount of pediatric medicine is designed to allow genetically disadvantaged (depending on your definition, in this case I include Ms. Schumer) humans a long enough life to allow them to reproduce. Should we do that? I know it sounds cold and heartless, but condemning the offspring of genetically disadvantaged people to a lifetime filled with pain and disability is colder.

When I use the word “should,” I am not speaking of the moral issues involved; we all have different moral compasses. I am speaking of the impact such decisions have on our species. With our current inability to efficiently distribute resources such as energy, medicine, and food, does it make sense to further burden humanity?  I am not suggesting a Communist mindset, but what we are doing is abusing our resources. A wealthy person has a child for which they can afford to provide the medical resources required, but in doing so they consume the time and resources of the medical system which might be used to improve the lives of many productive members of society.

Homo Sapiens Sapiens is mildly arrogant in its assumption this planet was made exclusively for us, and foolish to believe that once we are gone, the planet has no future. Did Homo neanderthalensis consider the same? Something I found while researching this article is that one suggested cause of the extinction of Homo neanderthalensis is Climate Change. Life continued through evolution, adapting to the new environment. Our current Climate Crises will be survived through evolution as well.

We are aiming for a future of darkness. Infrastructure will fail, sources of energy will become increasingly difficult to sustain; an agrarian society, without electricity or medical technology, is a very possible future. Homo Sapiens Sapiens has developed too many weaknesses to survive radical change. By weakening our genome, we are developing the modern “Neanderthals”, while the future “Cro-Magnons” walk among us. Homo Evolutis will look back at our errors without the benefit of the internet. We are rapidly depleting our storage of information in non-digital form, books are no longer preserved. The age of narcissism has dawned.

Future archeologists may decode what we leave behind, will we appear to them as the progeny of ancient Rome, partying our way to extinction? I have heard before that porcelain does not biodegrade, will they only know us by our toilets?

I just hope we do not damage our hope for evolution by damaging the gene pool. It’s in bad enough shape right now.

It’s Sunday, why not try a sermon?

I have never been one to hide my beliefs (well, when traveling abroad I have been known to refer to myself as Canadian). I was raised as a Christian, Southern Baptist, and my pastor when I was very young preached that we should examine something before pledging our lives to it. So I did. I left the church, but I did not leave God.

I read the Bible, cover to cover, and did not see any of the people I saw at church. I understood who Jesus was, and what he was trying to teach, and saw few of his messages reflected in the teachings of “Christian” religions, and when they were, it was merely lip service. I could see them in other religions, and examined those more deeply. In the end, sometime in my twenties, I decided to follow Jesus’s teachings, calling myself a “Zen Baptist.”

Of all religions, I tend to be more critical of “Christians;” they have the instruction book and don’t follow it. This morning, I had to correct a member of my Belgian Beer Enthusiasts group for berating a Buddhist. The other member had posted a picture of his wife, a Buddhist, and the Christian went on about how she was going to have trouble getting into heaven. Determining the fate of someone’s soul is not the duty of a Christian, that job is specifically held by God. Rather than get into a prolonged discussion, I just reminded him that it was a Beer group, he could share his religious views elsewhere.

I have often said “If you can read a Stephen King novel, you can read the New Testament.” There really is no excuse not to read the teachings of a group with whom you aspire to spend eternity. Yet the majority of Christians have only opened the book to read a verse along with the congregation on Sunday. They have no sense of context. Many will repeat the phrase “Judge not” with their own interpretation of what it means. For one thing, it is only the first two words of a sentence. The full verse, recorded in the book of Matthew as the first three verses of the seventh chapter are “Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?” The message is you will be judged by the standards to which you hold others.

These are the reasons a good friend of mine rejected Christianity. He would say “There are too many contradictions.” What he meant was the practice often contradicts the lessons. I have heard Priests admonishing their parishioners to carry the love of the service outside the doors of the church, questioning how they could commune with each other in church and then curse each other in the parking lot. Christians often do not follow in Christ’s footsteps. Maybe if the Priest championed reading the Bible rather than the snippets included in the mass they would have a better feel for what Jesus had been saying; but of course that might allow them to read the ninth verse of the twenty third chapter of Matthew,”And call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven.

I am also an American, and hold the Constitution as an instruction manual on how to operate the country. The first amendment has taken quite a beating lately. It reads “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” This is where the idea of separation of church and state comes from.

Our current president does not appear to have read the constitution, or just feels as if he is not bound by it. My own thoughts lean towards the latter. The organization Americans United for Separation of Church and State (AU) is a watchdog group which focuses on the First Amendment, protecting the populace from government intrusion in religious matters; they have been very busy lately. When I suggested this group to my father, who tends to feel Christianity is under attack, he flatly refused. My father is a good man, but he can not quite get the idea that the same rule which prevents government funding of proselytizing the Christian faith also prevents government funding of proselytizing Islam; it is in fact the very core of the First Amendment. Fairness is not appreciated by someone who feels they are under attack, even when they represent over seventy percent of the populace.

I don’t expect anyone to believe as I do. I have little way of knowing, because I make no attempt to drag others into my beliefs. I met one the other day, he happens to be a doorman at my building. He usually carries a bible, and is very quiet. I asked what religion he followed, and in his quiet way he said “I don’t, I follow the teachings of Jesus.” It felt nice knowing I am not alone. I am exceptionally tired of all Christians being portrayed as the one third of us who are evangelical as they most certainly do not believe as I do, nor do they follow Jesus’s words. In Matthew’s tenth chapter, Jesus says in the fourteenth verse “And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.” Simply put, if someone doesn’t want to hear you, shut up and walk away.

What troubles me most is the vast number of Christians who propagate ideas which have no basis in the words of Jesus. I repeatedly hear I should not judge all Muslims by the actions of Daesh, but most folks judge all Christians by the actions of Evangelicals. It can be difficult, I tend to judge all Atheists by the actions of their leaders, but some of them are nice people.

 

 

 

Conflicting interests

I am pro-life, and also pro-choice. You may ask “How can you reconcile those two positions?” Let me tell you.

I don’t like abortion, yet I recognize its necessity. When looking at Roe v Wade, the court stated the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution provides a fundamental “right to privacy” that protects a pregnant woman’s liberty to choose whether or not to have an abortion. This right is not absolute, and must be balanced against the government’s interests in protecting women’s health and protecting prenatal life.

As a bisexual male, the argument “You can’t legislate morality” has been my response to morality laws all of my life, because it is true. Abortions did not begin in 1974, they became legal. They became licensed and regulated. They became safe. Banning abortion only causes women to seek out illegal abortions, which more than likely will be second or third trimester abortions, endangering both mother and child.

Yes, I said child. I, along with the majority of scientists, believe that life begins at conception. Abortion is taking a human life. If one lacks the maturity to recognize that fact, one is clearly not mature enough to raise a child; it could be said such a person lacks the maturity to create a life. Yet children are created by the immature on a daily basis.

“How can you justify the taking of life?” In the same way I can justify killing enemy combatants on the battlefield. It is intellectually dishonest to think that good people do not sometimes do things which are not totally good. The health and welfare of the growing child must be weighed against its right to life. A woman unprepared for the responsibility of raising children is a poor choice as a parent. The child is worse off, and the mother is as well. If children could be taken and placed in loving families, taxpayers would be paying for the child rather than both of them. Life in the police state which would make that possible has few admirers.

I do not use the phrase “Pro-abortion” because I am not. There are many abuses of abortion. I knew a woman when I was younger who had three abortions in the space of one year. In my opinion, she should have been sterilized. She used no prophylactics, knowing she could always get an abortion. There are certainly many more abortions taking place than would be desirable, most “pro-choice” folks would agree. In addition to the inability to legislate morality, there is no way to legislate common sense either.

I remember a walk to the pharmacy on a cold winter day when my condom had broken to get the morning after pill. Not everyone wants to have a child at fifty. There are circumstances in which every precaution has been taken, and they failed. My youngest son was conceived through an IUD. An estimated forty percent of pregnancies are unplanned, which is not to say they are unwanted; none of my children were planned.

The impact of a child on an unprepared woman can be devastating. An already poor mother is not enriched by another mouth to feed. A homeless woman does not have better chances of finding a home with a child. A damaged relationship is not improved by a child. The revelation of a sexual assault can tear a family apart. We can require sex education for every child, just like we require education in history. How many days was William Harrison President? Education does not imply the information is absorbed.

Roe v Wade allowed for restrictions, so take a minute and think about how they affect a pregnant woman. Unless a woman has a menstrual period determined by a Swiss clock, she may not be aware she is pregnant for well over a month. If it is her first pregnancy, or if she is in denial that she could be pregnant, it could be eight to twelve weeks before it becomes obvious. There goes the first trimester.

If the woman lives in Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, North Dakota, South Dakota or West Virginia, there is only  one abortion clinic in the state, and Missouri is doing its best to make that number zero. It is highly unlikely that clinic will be nearby, adding more considerations. Does she have transportation? Can she disappear for the time required?

“What about late term abortions?” What about them? Late is a bit vague, but 1.2% of all abortions were performed after twenty one weeks, 91% were in the first trimester, 27.9% were non-surgical (drug induced) and there are no figures for the morning after pill. The horror stories about late term abortions (the only ones in which the fetus is recognizable as human) are a very small number of abortions, and they are already only performed when the life of the mother is in danger; not because of any law, but because of medical ethics.

On the other side of the coin, “pro-abortion” people do exist. Often these people have never made the choice themselves, and are using abortion as a political football. While many women are able to have meaningful lives and contribute to society because they were able to abort a child which would have destroyed their lives, very few celebrate their abortions. Those who do get a lot of press because they are unusual.

“Why not just adopt out the child?” If you think ending a life is a difficult decision, how easy do you suppose it is to let go of a child once it has been in your arms? I know a woman who gave her child up for adoption. Despite promises to the contrary, she was not given any information about her child’s placement. After many years she found him, he had been raised in horrible conditions and had been in trouble with the law. He did not want to hear from her, blaming her decision to try to give him a better life as a decision to curse his life.

How can I be pro-life and pro-choice? Because I believe life should be a choice.

 

 

Something Positive

I realize that along with my increased writing output, I have been hitting a number of “negative” articles. Today is a return to the more positive events I have experienced recently.

 

Janice and Blake at a Japanese festival

 

About this time last year, I met Janice. Our relationship was supposed to reflect our polyamorous lives; I had a primary partner and she had other partners. We both intended for her to be “just a girlfriend,” a secondary partner. It didn’t work out that way.

Janice sensed from the beginning that I was different, our first date was not in a hotel room, we went to dinner at a nice Barbecue place in Trenton. She said she wanted us to progress slowly because she thought I was “special.” We had met online, she had an OKCupid account which I came across. Her profile was quirky, in the field titled “You should message me if. . .” she went through a couple of turns, concluding with “I’m the only bisexual Atheist in <town name> New Jersey, just Google me and find me on Facebook.” I found the challenge fascinating.

I found her and we started talking, I had wanted to take her out on Valentines day, but she had another date. We were able to schedule a date when she would be dropping her daughter off at the train station, so we met there in Trenton on 28 February. I really liked her, a number of uninteresting dates with women over the last few months gave me a baseline with which to measure interesting dates. This was clearly interesting.

Our next meeting also fit our polyamorous lifestyles. My previous primary (Sam) had expressed an interest in swinging, so we went on a triple date, Sam and I, Janice and her date, and another polyamorous couple, at Berlin News Agency (BNA) in New Jersey. BNA is not “wholesome” in any way, my description would include the word “sleazy.” In the brief moments before she stomped out, Sam could see the connection between Janice and I. It had been a tortuously slow evening, Janice later said that once Sam left things started happening. Not my first experience where that was true.

Sam stomped out of our three year relationship over the next few weeks, I purchased her portion of our condo from her, and Janice started spending more time at my place. We lived about an hour away from each other, and we quickly were living together, we just didn’t have a permanent address; we would be either at her place or mine, but we were always together.

With an art installation we purchased for my place

2019 was probably the most wonderful year of my life. Janice and I went on fascinating adventures. We went back to BNA a few of times and attended a couple of swinger parties; Janice was a star and was developing a following so we cooled away from those events. We went to concerts and cultural events, bought art for the condo, and attended a Phillies baseball game.  We went to a nudist camp in the Poconos, a drag show in Delaware, and the Pride parade in New York City. We met each other’s friends, which usually worked out well.

Usually. As with any dynamic couple, we are not clones of each other, we have differences. I prefer a quiet life out of the spotlight, Janice has been more involved in activism. She was the PR coordinator for a web based Atheist group, a leader in a first amendment group, and active in Bisexual awareness groups to name a few. Our diverse friends did not always mix well, and created more than one argument between us. Janice is lovely, with a smile that lights the room; I don’t care for the light, and have often done my best in the shadows. Janice has a harder time distancing herself from people she no longer has anything in common with, because she sees most people a unique human beings, which is the common thread regardless of differing, and sometimes opposing, views. My family has been less graceful, unaccepting of Bisexuality, Atheists, and in most cases Democrats.

We have shown each other facets of our beliefs outside of stereotypes. I am not the typical conservative old white guy, she is not the typical left wing activist.

NYC Pride parade, one of the pictures that horrified my father

In October, her place in New Jersey became uninhabitable (long story), so she moved to my place full time. Her mother in law from her first marriage (Connie) lived with her, and I invited her to come along and take the extra bedroom. Janice’s children and I have always gotten along, we’ve taken them to concerts with us. I have had a few relationships with women who had children, this is the first time that aspect has gone well.

Early in our relationship, and much to my annoyance, Janice referred to me as “an older gentleman” to her friends. She is ten years younger than I, I’m just put off by the phrase “older gentleman.” It turns out she finds the term “Social Justice Warrior” offensive, so I would call her one in order to show that not quite accurate descriptions can be annoying.

Janice is disabled, far more than I am. A week ago she was unable to walk, so I took her places in a wheelchair. Her disabilities spring from a childhood of multiple abusers, and a motorcycle wreck in the 90s, I only have Multiple Sclerosis and a Brian Injury. Connie is in her 70s and a stroke survivor. We all care for each other depending on who is the healthiest at the moment.

Not every step has been roses, and I am thankful I have been through enough to not expect them to be. It is ever so heart warming to be with somebody whose heart needs mine as much as mine needs hers. We still fancy ourselves as polyamorists, but monogamy is working out well.

 

At The Woods, an LGBTQ+ nudist camp

 

She was the first to say she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. Nothing has been more comforting; I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

May you have a Happy Valentines day as well.

That time of year

There are certain cycles that make you feel good, the Seasons each have their joy, either by arriving on ending.

I see other cycles, just as certain. The election of the President of the United States presents its own set of internal cycles, this year one has been a bit early. My friends, the people I trust, have left civility behind as they become partisan gargoyles. People whom I have chosen to call friends, the hundred or so that have remained admirable for years, sometimes decades, have left, some never to return. This brings me no joy. Rather than watch, I distance myself from the hatred.

Last time was particularly ugly, and there are no indications this time will be any better. I was ever so close to leaving it behind last time, prepared to the last detail to emigrate, and the opportunity was snatched away at the last second. I don’t have any reason to expect a similar opportunity to present itself, so I’m stuck here for the entire show, like Alex in “A Clockwork Orange.”

 

At least for Alex it was only a movie

 

I know it is only a seasonal madness, or at least I hope it remains so. Each cycle builds on the last, at some point it has to destroy the very union it was designed to support.

A decent, intelligent man thought it was funny to share the identity of the purported “whistle blower” in the Trump impeachment fiasco. A kind and thoughtful woman graphically compared Trump’s acquittal to the rape of justice. I know these people to be good human beings, but these are not the actions of good human beings. Protecting the identity of witnesses protects everyone. When that trust is denied, how many potential witnesses look the other way, perhaps witnesses who would have protected you, or revealed an improper act in which you would (now will) be the victim? When you equate a partisan play with rape, what do you think actual rape victims have suffered? Well, on second thought, actual rape victims watch the system betray them, with trials based on popularity rather than reality, so maybe there are some similarities; I just really did not need to see that image.

This is too much like the annual surprise when frozen precipitation falls from the sky; people believe it has never happened before and are therefore excused from knowing how to deal with it. Four years is a long time for a person to remember anything when they can’t remember how to drive if there is snow on the road. I forget my friends are human, and react to competition in the way of most humans.

And “competition” is precisely what national elections are. Sure, all the candidates talk about their superior moral stands, most of us understand that politicians have no morals. Most folks are interested in “what can you do for me” far more than any empty promises about human rights. The depressing thing about intelligence is recognizing the election has more in common with the Superbowl than “Mr. Smith goes to Washington.”

This year I find myself in the uncomfortable position of understanding the motives of Donald Trump. Not the paranoid fantasies about his personal hatred of the environment, or claims of undiagnosed mental illness, but an observation based judgement of his character. He is a vindictive bully. Remember his first year with the rotating cabinet? Why is anyone surprised that he fired the assistant who testified against him? He views people as either useful or trash. The character of his committed supporters reflect that trait.

So this year, in response to a vindictive bully, the Democrats are waging a war of pettiness. “Impeached” will forever be on his resumé, but he made it clear in 2016 his resumé was unimportant to his goals. His childish behavior has been met as a challenge to find who could be more childish. For an observer such as myself, this is a bounty of material for critique, I would be happy if this was not such a crisis. We are coming apart at the seems, it is no time for a pie fight.

I enjoy social media, and I use it to promote my writing. The problem is it becomes an echo chamber, diverse ideas are not readily accepted. I have had to block a few people who were rabid partisans, on both sides, but mostly I get blocked; again from both sides, predominantly from the left because I have had more friends on that side. Either way, my group of friends narrows itself to only include people who think as I. No one seems to accept the concept of an impartial observer.

So I have distanced myself from social media, passing through now and then to comment. I still post my blog articles, and intend to return in the winter; unless the fury over the results persist. Voting has changed from expressing support for a candidate who shares ones ideas to picking the winner. More so than Republicans, Democrats are incredibly poor losers, yet Trump has done his best to prove me wrong; I just hope his supporters are less like him in this aspect. This is just one more reason I support ending our two party process in favor of multiple parties. Perhaps that would allow more diverse views to remain pockets of small groups, rather than trying to please everyone with two possible choices. The system is beginning to mirror the Soviet Union’s idea of voting, everyone votes but there is only one choice. Americans have yet to discover their two choices are merely two sides of the same coin.

At any rate, there may be a choice which I find appealing within the Democratic party. Currently I favor Pete Buttigieg, but then in 2016 at this time I was supporting Gary Johnson. The last time my choice won was 2004.

 

Choose well this year, vote for a candidate who best reflects you; and on 4 November, try to remember it is not all about you.

Privilege

As with most issues, the concept of privilege tends to be overblown while containing a measure of truth.

Donald Trump is not a member of the NAZI party, but some of his actions mirror their actions. Do not forget that NAZIs tied their shoes, tying your shoes does not make you a NAZI. Some factors apply in using the stereotype, many do not.

An article on Buzzfeed well illustrates that point. One single factor does not signify privilege, it is the cumulative amount of factors. I don’t think Buzzfeed has any more credibility than Psychology Today, but the survey, all by itself, is useful as a learning experience.

How Privileged are You? provides insight into what constitutes privilege. I have always felt offended when accused of “White Privilege,” because it has been based on the fact that I am white. I am more than just white, although hate groups such as Antifa don’t really care about facts. Physical assaults, verbal assaults, and prejudices have been based on supposition.

Not everyone is interested in learning. When my partner posted the survey on Facebook, for the purpose of comparison, most of her friends took the survey and compared their scores. One decided to go on a rant about Buzzfeed, shooting the messenger and in the process also the message. No, the results of a survey are not a diagnosis, but sometimes the act of sharing it can display prejudices you were not looking for. An excellent representation of this effect is “Some people can read War and Peace and come away thinking it’s a simple adventure story. Others can read the ingredients on a chewing gum wrapper and unlock the secrets of the universe.”  That quote comes from the 1978 film “Superman.” Most people do not consider superhero movies the source of deep philosophical observations; those people also fail to learn from “War and Peace.”

The first lesson in the survey comes with the first question, “Are you White?” I was a bit put off with that opening, then I considered that it was one factor out of one hundred. My total “score” was twenty nine, “underprivileged.” There were questions that seemed faulty, “Have you ever been called a Dyke” and “Have you ever been called a Faggot” should have been a single question. One of the many questions that should have been there is “When you see a rack of magazines, are the majority of people on the covers your race?” As I said earlier, anyone expecting a certified diagnosis from an online test is foolish. This survey should only be used as a comparison among peers, just don’t let Antifa see the results, a score of one would be adequate for them to burn your house.

As mentioned, I am white. I was born in the South. I am a Christian. None of these things make me a racist, but I accept that they are three points out of hundreds that would make me so. I learned over fifty years ago the difference between correlation and causality, and try to apply it to every interaction. As I aged and was exposed to dangers which could be life threatening, I found that in some instances correlation is sufficient. I don’t need to know what is in that backpack with wires hanging out, but I don’t need to kill the person carrying it; I can walk away. Responses require circumstances with which to justify them.

There are many factors which constitute an individual. It is often said that Hitler liked dogs, but that alone does not make him a good person. He also facilitated the deaths of over eleven million people, and while that alone may not make him an evil person, the methods he used to accomplish that goal certainly add up to that conclusion.

Our society, drenched in information, continues to celebrate single issue decisions. The quickness of determining the state of that decision is frightening. I can see an indicator and immediately know what it means, most people cannot. A friend recently posted two photographs in comparison. One was a color image of Donald Trump reaching out to shake the hands of supporters, the other, a black and white image of Adolph Hitler doing the same. My reaction to the implied statement they were the same was that I couldn’t think of a single celebrity who has not reached out in a similar fashion. Then, as others noticed inconsistencies, it became clear the photo of Hitler had been altered (there was an American flag in the background, a person dressed as Lincoln, and Hitler had no feet). Simply noting that this was not only a poor comparison, but it was also falsified, made me a Trump supporter so she immediately blocked me. The simple observation that if what one party is doing is despicable, mirroring that behavior is not excusable, brings me back to explaining to children “He did it first” is not a defense for doing the same thing.

I’ve been noticing a snowball effect, that right along with knowledge, maturity is rapidly declining at a geometric rate. Double standards are celebrated as “necessary.” Moral standards are as rigid as cooked spaghetti. I am overwhelmed with the examples provided by an intolerant population and a rogue president. Literally overwhelmed, I can not finish typing a blog entry without several examples of my thesis occurring, and not just because I type slowly. Noting these issues results in hatred rather than self reflection.

In many ways, the survey on privilege was contrary to my core beliefs. Confidence is seen as a privilege, questions such as “I have never lied about my sexuality,” “I have never tried to hide my sexuality,” and “I am always comfortable with P.D.A. (Public Display of Affection) with my partner” imply that comfort with who you are is a privilege. While I agree that living in fear is an indicator of lack of privilege, paranoia is an indicator of lack of psychiatric help. I have had physicians refer to my “Texan stoicism” as a defect.

Give yourself the privilege of being comfortable in your own skin.

The hive mind

I remember a conversation with a colleague in the summer of 2006. He was talking about a new resource, “Twitter,” with which you could ask a question of any nature, and if anyone within the “hive mind” knew the answer they would respond.

I loved this man as if he were my son, and I mustered all the enthusiasm I could; “That sounds great Carlo, let me know how useful it turns out to be.” What I was thinking was “You’ll get the same results by shouting your question into the subway.”

Fourteen years later my partner considers Twitter a news source. It is, indeed, a lane on the “information highway” (a term acknowledged as meaningless before it was even popular); people answer questions and pass judgements, but there is no certification suggesting they “know” the answer. You could randomly tap phone lines and receive answers of equivalent veracity.

Sometime in the 1990’s reality started its move to the backseat and “diverse ideas” took the wheel. I recall applying for a position on a “diversity council” sometime in the 2000’s. The requirements included being “a diverse employee” and I certainly was a member of that group, different from anyone else. It turns out I wasn’t, they were not looking for someone different than themselves, they were looking for a “woman of color,” indicating they were all white men who could not specify which color other than white they wanted this diverse person to be. They certainly were not interested in my observation of that fact.

Twitter is without question a news source, a conduit through which one might derive the news, but its accuracy is on the level of conversations overheard on an elevator. The individual discerns the credibility of the reports, based on what image the reporter chose to use as an avatar, or claims to be credentials. The information highway is indeed a channel through which most of the information collected by the human race flows. A similar description could be applied to a sewer.

Raw information, everything that is known about the Earth for example, includes the information that the Earth is flat.

In fact, since the birth of the internet, totally wrong information has flourished, largely because only one answer to a question is actually “correct.” If one were to ask “should I vaccinate my child?” the answers (including “why don’t you ask a doctor instead of the less educated masses) would range from the precisely accurate to the drug induced surreal. You guess which is which.

I fathered four children between the late 70’s and the late 80’s. When the anti vaccination documentary Vaccine Roulette was released in 1982, a young Sergeant told me I must watch the report on NBC news “if I cared about my kids.” I considered my knowledge of the Sergeant, an attention seeking loudmouth who regularly stated or implied he was a “company man” (bizarre in the sense we were all in the community and knew he had never been with the company), and decided to watch the program anyway. Immediately I could see the flaws, over blowing consequences by using raw numbers rather than statistics, failing to mention the enormous benefits, playing on visuals of ailing children. Heartstrings were grabbed by two hands and connected to a locomotive.

Millions were convinced that vaccinating a child was life threatening for the child. I made an extra effort to have my children’s vaccinations complete, there were going to be well meaning vectors of disease everywhere.

That was almost forty years ago. Yesterday there was a report of a child dying from the flu, because its Mother had decided not to vaccinate it against the flu; then when the child contracted the flu from its unvaccinated siblings, the Mother refused to treat it with antivirals. When the child showed the “initial symptoms” of the flu, including a seizure, rather than seek a doctor’s advice, she sought out an antivaxx group on Facebook. When none of the suggested natural remedies had any effect on the virus, rather than seek a doctor’s advice she asked the group again. Not one answer suggested seeing a doctor. A four year old boy in Colorado joined sixty eight other children who have died of the flu so far this season; evolution is proven as those disease vectors and the pro-disease ideas which ended their lives never have the opportunity to reproduce.

I might ask how to clean a cast iron pot on Facebook, but if my child had a seizure we’re going to the hospital.

You, more than likely, know nothing about me. If my words resonate with your common sense, I pray that you investigate further to verify them. Would you take my medical advice, and apply it to your children? Apparently, fifty nine percent of you would. People do not take the flu seriously because “No one dies from the flu.” I take the flu seriously because one of my earliest exposures to information on the subject was my Grandfather’s story about coming home from world war one and burying his brother (by himself, mortuaries were packed with the dead) during the 1918 epidemic.

In 1918, fifty million lives were lost to the flu (one fifth of the world population). Comparatively, twenty million were lost to World War one. Today, epidemics are measured by the percentage of total deaths caused by a factor, 7.2 is the threshold. The current rate of mortality in America caused by flu (which produces a cause of death known as pneumonia) is 7.1. Compared to the Spanish flu, today’s deaths are minuscule; but with a century of medical advances they should be much closer to zero. You might say “No one dies from the flu,” so far this season “No one” equals twelve thousand American lives. Yes, I still take the flu seriously.

The hive mind is concerned with the Corona virus, which has an even lower mortality rate, while ignoring the near epidemic flu virus. The wisdom of the hive mind has suggested the virus can be avoided by not drinking Mexican beer, as well as suggesting the virus is a deadly world pandemic. Neither is correct.

Perfectly safe, unless you were looking for a real beer

 

Don’t be a drone. Escape the hive and think for yourself.

The whimpering end of democracy

I was born in America (although I frequently claim Texas as my native country), and from early in my life I was inundated with the message I live in a Democracy. First problem, America is a Democratic Republic, we grow up believing a lie about our government; repeating it as a defense of the majority. As we mature, and learn to appreciate minorities, a certain cognitive dissonance starts to grow. Part of our Western background is absolutes, balance is a foriegn concept.

In my youth, part of my education included classes in “Civics,” or the study of the rights and duties of citizenship. Sometime in the seventies, Civics classes were deemed unimportant, and dropped from most curricula.

For almost fifty years, two complete generations, Americans have not been taught the basics of how government works. This explains how millions of people called for the impeachment of the president on the day he was elected, not comprehending that an actual offense had to take place first; that is, an offense greater than “I didn’t vote for him.”

Then when an impeachable offense took place, millions more did not understand that impeachment is a process, and that it does not end in removal from office. It ends in a trial, a trial in which the jurors decide to either weigh the evidence or vote according to their party.

Had the president been found guilty, he still would not have been removed from office. Like a trial in real life, once guilt has been determined, then sentencing is considered. Think of a murder trial, few of those found guilty are sentenced to death, or even life imprisonment.

As a political strategy, impeachment is equivalent to investigations, they sound scary but there is no reason to expect a particular outcome.

The one spectacular event in the impeachment of president Trump was that Mitt Romney, a fellow Republican, voted against the president. No senator had ever voted against a president of their own party before. The partisan nature of the process was highlighted by the only non-partisan vote.

How many Americans took note of that? My guess? Seven.

The campaign for the 2020 presidential election rolled right through the impeachment hearings, and there were lessons to be learned there as well.

For some reason, Iowa is the first contest, a “caucus” rather than a “primary.” It is still an electoral process, the “one man one vote” part of the Democratic Republic, and although the process sounds rather bizarre, it is captured quite well here by Reuters.

For some reason, the Iowa caucus is held as an important indicator of the November election, even though Iowa is in no way representative of the American population, and is held eleven months before the election. People can change their minds in eleven months. Sometimes it only takes eleven minutes.

In this case, and perhaps indicative of the ways in which Iowa represents the general population, one voter did change her mind after casting her vote, and wanted to withdraw it.

After “deliberating” about the choice and available candidates, and working her way through the tedious caucus process, this voter changed her mind because one of the most reported aspects of the candidate had missed her research until after casting her ballot, and she felt it was important enough to display to the nation her Homophobia. Pete Buttigieg is gay. Married to a man. Publicly, flagrantly, and the one thing that made him stand out when there were over twenty candidates, but she had missed it. This is the thoughtful reflection applied to a candidate for president.

That “one man one vote” bit carries the implication that you only get to vote once. She missed that too. Nonetheless, after a fiasco illustrating the failures of the Democratic National Convention, Pete Buttigieg won.

Speaking of those failures, do not take the impression I am suggesting the Republican party has not been easy to mistake for a Keystone Kops episode, which brings up another whimper.

I no longer claim membership in any party, they are simply two sides of the same coin.

In our Democratic Republic, those votes given to each of us rarely express our desires. Very few folks vote for a candidate, they vote for a party. The same people who decry partisan politics are partisans themselves. Democrats will point out the stupidity of their opponents who just “pull the big R lever,” while at the same time chanting “vote blue no matter who.”

What are the side effects of this whimpering death of a process we have celebrated so widely?

For one, Americans not only can’t handle the truth, they don’t expect it. Anyone can say anything and because it is accepted by what to that person is “a large number of people,” it must be truth. Twitter is considered a “news source” by the same people who laugh at one of its reporters for broadcasting from the toilet in the middle of the night. Nurses, who have been trained to understand the scientific method, become dedicated opponents of vaccinations. People feel comfortable dispensing diagnoses without any medical training. Rather than a search for truth, questions are submitted for a diversity of opinions. It is as if they just don’t want to be correct.

It is dragging me down. I find the uninformed exhausting, because I can either explain every part of their wrong ideas and be considered arrogant, or listen in silence as they display their ignorance, transmitting it like a virus to the uninformed majority. I can’t help them; it is frustrating. As I age, the frustration is having physical effects, I write it off as having developed in another world; I am the foreigner here. Is this the fate of age?

I often think of John Houseman as Mr. Wabash in the film “Three Days of the Condor,” speaking to a rising section chief.

Mr. Wabash : I go even further back than that. Ten years after The Great War, as we used to call it. Before we knew enough to number them.

Higgins : You miss that kind of action, sir?

Mr. Wabash : No, I miss that kind of clarity.

 

Recognizing Big Brother

 

Some things stick in your mind, you can see them forming before others because the horror is too great.

The holocaust is an example of how evil can spread through a society, so the label of NAZI is thrown at anyone who appears to be authoritarian, or antisemitic. Unfortunately it has spread to include “anyone who thinks different than me,” diluting its horror. In our mis-educational system, how many graduates go forward thinking thirteen million people were killed by old men playing golf?

When college kids carrying tiki torches are compared to the Schutzstaffel, the horror just isn’t there.

 

George Orwell’s “1984” disassembled mind control. Most folks think the work was prophetic, but in fact it was a memoir of the fascist states of the early twentieth century, written after their culmination in 1944. Orwell had seen it happen, from seedling to rotting fruit. We have all seen the process, frozen at certain points in its development in various societies, yet we fail to recognize as it takes hold around us.

As a writer, language is of utmost importance to me. Words are my life. The variances, homonyms, synonyms, and multi-entendres are my life blood. Word meanings change over time, but the immediate alteration to fit a political misuse is far too reminiscent of Newspeak. Combined with deliberate misinformation, “reality” is no longer how things exist, but how they are meant to be judged.

I was never much for euphemisms, I prefer to be understood and avoid barriers. It does seem to put people off, I worked at an SPCA shelter where I killed dogs. I got out of the habit of saying “Euthanized” because most of the people I dealt with didn’t know what it meant. They were already upset, why make it worse by using a word they did not understand?

As I have been around a lot more LBGTQ+ people this last year, I’ve been a little shocked about the sensitivity to words. I am Bisexual, a term defined in the Bisexual Manifesto of 1990 (not to imply that Bisexuality was invented then), Sometime around 2000 folks started using the word “Pansexual,” then it became a prejudicial word. People who call themselves Pansexual today state that “Bisexual” is non-inclusive, because it only refers to two sexes or genders. Read the manifesto kids, “Pansexual” is the divisive term, as it claims Bisexuals are Transphobic (By the way, attaching “phobic” to everything is ridiculous, if you are prejudiced against something you are probably not afraid of it).

Often it seems when people are particular about the words used to describe a group, they are not the people described, but people who awarded themselves the mantle of Pronoun Police. As I looked deeper, sometimes it is only the Pronoun Police, and not the people being described; people from the orient tend to prefer “Oriental” to “Asian.”

Common in the news these days are stories about “Religious Freedom.” More often than not these are instances in which followers of one religion wish to force their point of view on followers of another religion. The constitution of the United States speaks clearly that there is to be no state religion, what many refer to as “Separation of Church and State.” As Americans we are free to choose whatever religion, or lack thereof, we wish. We have no right to impose our views on others, yet a fair number of people believe they are empowered to discriminate against people with differing beliefs. While many of our founding documents are developments of Abrahamic principles, it is still quite easy to see the differences in the Abrahamic religions.  A statute favoring a Christian point of view (or one ascribed to Christianity) does not support a Muslim or Jewish point of view. Freedom of Religion is best expressed as “Freedom from Religion;” we shall have no inquisition. An individual has no more right to impose staff led Christian prayer than they would to impose Sharia law.

This morning, we were discussing Death with Dignity. There has been a lot written about this, most obviously not by those who have practiced it. I was told that “suicide” is not the proper word, because suicide is an irrational act, those who rationally choose to end their lives, and fit certain medical criteria, have not committed suicide. So I read some of the things written, and they are all about providing euphemisms other that the actual word because it causes shame. I know these people mean well, they are speaking to and about the survivors, relatives and friends of the deceased. I was told the word “suicide” shames people who have made a difficult decision, implying they were irrational. After a quick look at the dictionary, followed by more intense probes into the word, I was unable to find any reference to the rationality of the person choosing to end their life.

It is difficult to talk about this without giving the wrong impression. I have no intention of committing suicide. However, the possibility exists that my Multiple Sclerosis may take a turn for the worse, or that any other event might make my life unlivable. Should that occur, I will thoughtfully decide whether or not to continue living. The very last thing in the world I would want to happen is to have control of my life taken from me while a panel decides if I am rational. When it is time, it is time. It is a difficult decision, and calling it anything other than what it is insults the sui, the individual who is taking action. I have known others that made the choice; one last stand of self.

The issue of abortion is buried in inaccurate descriptions. Both sides wish to make their points emotional, so we now live in a world where “Women’s health services” mean abortion clinics, and nothing else; a further erasure of the real world differences between men and women. About one of every four women will have an abortion in their lives, it is, much like suicide, a difficult decision. Because women who have had abortions are shamed for their decision, very few of those women talk about it, so those who do appear to be freaks. They can be dismissed because they have spoken about their “unusual” experiences, they are considered meaningless or extreme because “I don’t know anyone who has had an abortion.” You probably do, but your attitude is so judgemental they never told you about it. The pain, which they continue to experience, is amplified by the failure to console them.

Along that line of language, a local real estate agent is trying to alter my borough’s requirement of a Certificate of Occupancy prior to the sale of a home. He has manipulated the subject, using people whose experience was overwhelmingly expensive. In one case a woman was unable to afford the repairs required to make the home habitable, so his latest rant assaults the borough for ignoring women’s rights. He has framed the ordinance as “immoral,” because the expense of making a home habitable may exceed the value of the home; relying on the local school district’s failure to educate to provide him with supporters. The man who owned my last residence insisted that property values only go up, so he was asking for his purchase price plus ten percent. I bought a nicer condominium in the same complex for one third of his asking price; I am surprised a real estate agent does not understand the real estate market.

With that last example, I am suggesting that practice of corrupting language is not a venture only applied to large organizations. I have seen it used by governments as well as individuals. My first exposure to this type of propaganda was in the Air Force, when I tried to explain an issue to my father; he could not see my side of the issue. Then I realized that in English, my complaint sounded ridiculous. I had gotten used to speaking in Air Force language, I knew what the disguised words actually meant. The collapse of language sneaks up on you, you don’t always realize what you are saying sounds very different to someone expecting common meanings.

 

Rebel.

 

Resist Big Brother. Do not conform, do not participate in the denial of your right of free speech.

The false god of science-lite

When I was young, I was enamored with the sciences. It was a great time, advances were being made in every field, many designed with the space program in mind. I studied chemistry (hard to avoid when your father is a chemist), astronomy, physics, and anything that smelled “cool.”

As I got older, my friends were also attracted to the sciences, going on to careers we each envied, as our careers were envied by them. Mutual admiration was common as we advanced in the world.

Then one day in 1972 a friend said his candidate was neither Republican (Nixon) or Democrat (McGovern); he supported the Peace and Freedom party. He didn’t know the name of the candidate, but the name of the party was appealing after a decade in Vietnam. I became aware that half of the population has double digit IQs, not everyone had musical talent of any kind, some people were interested in a thing because they liked the sound of the name.

I don’t know that 1972 was a pivotal year, it’s just the year I noticed. It did happen to be the last year we went to the moon. It is when I noticed that some of the people who claimed an interest in science did not know what a science was. Astrology was called a science, Homeopathy was a science. The language took a subtle change; more people were “interested in science” than “the sciences.” Science had become a God. As with most religions, the congregation had no connections to their God.

Over the years I have heard people claim science is the reason they don’t believe in a God, or that science supports their opinions. I have seen the scientific method tossed aside for opinion and speculation.

I could never see a conflict between science and God, but then I don’t expect the Bible to be a science text. It is a religious text, I don’t seek answers to religious questions in Einstein’s work, although I do appreciate his view of quantum physics, that God does not play dice.

In 1998, Andrew Wakefield published paper in Lancet claiming a link between the MMR vaccine and Autism. It took over ten years for the Lancet to retract the paper, but it was debunked almost immediately. By 2001 it was uncovered that Wakefield had started a company prior to the publication that would faciltate suits against pharmaceutical companies for a fee. His methodology was riddled with corrupt and false data.  There was no question that not only was he a fraud, he was a con-man; this was to have been his biggest con.

Today, twenty years after having been exposed as a scam, people claiming to be scientists are still hawking the same old wares, repackaged with fresh faulty data, basing complaints on ingredients which have not been used in forty years or are present in dosages that are meaningless. There is more Thiomersal in tuna than vaccines.

The antivaxx movement is stronger than ever, based on a lie that has turned into a moral imperative. Who can argue with a mother who will not expose her child to what she believe to be a poison? Perhaps the mother of an immunodeficient child who could die from the measles? Personally, if this was simply a choice by double digit IQs to leave their children vulnerable to deadly diseases, I would view it as evolutionary positive, removing those genes from the pool. But it is not. Unvaccinated children are the building blocks for epidemics among the immunodeficient community.

How many people are immunodeficient? A small percentage, who use the same medical facilities, placing them in contact with each other. Epidemics can move like wildfire through the community.

If the flu, Measels, Mumps, and Rubella were not threats to public health, why did we go to so much trouble to find a vaccine? The brilliant, privileged Antivaxxer will say that the diseases are rare, and rarely are fatal. Remind the buffoon that they are rare now because of the vaccines,  one hundred years ago fifty million people died from the flu. The deaths overwhelmed society so much that my grandfather had to bury his brother. Only a few die from Measels, which is of little reassurance for the over one million parents of children who died of Measels in 1990 (two parents per child).

Ingrid Newkirk as president of PETA, said “A rat is a pig is a dog is a boy,” demonstrating her lack of medical knowledge, and I might say spiritual knowledge as well. She was opposed to vaccines (indeed all medicines) because they are sometimes made with animal products, and always tested on animals. Apparently her childhood memories of a society plagued with childhood deaths and lifetime disabilities, then resolved by vaccines, lead her to believe that human life is cheap.

I once worked at an S.P.C.A. with a young woman who was under the impression she was a veterinarian. Her method of proof of death was to touch the eye of an animal to see if there was a reaction. One day we were discussing animal rights issues (like poking dying dogs in the eye), and she said “Well, I’ve researched this on my own. . . ” so I asked her which laboratory she had used for the research. She told me she didn’t need a laboratory,  she had “heard of” books on the subject. She had not even read the books, she culled her “knowledge” from the title and blurb, and called it “Research.” That was when I knew that the public understanding of what the sciences are is pitiful.

So today, when someone tells me they have two degrees in science, my initial impression is those sciences could easily be macrame and basket weaving. I know actual scientists, in fact I was raised around them, listening to conversations at cocktail parties my parents threw, and then in daily life. There are words they do and don’t use. So yes, I can determine your scientific background just from talking to you about a school play or a futbol match. This is not some superpower, you just have to pay attention to your sources of information. So I cannot understand why so many fail, then I remember how many people have double digit IQs.

It does not require genius to comprehend the sciences, just a mind open to new discoveries.

 

The Holidays

 

Which Holidays?

From our earliest social constructs, we learned to mark the seasons. Of greatest importance were solar positions, the Solstice was the end of the shortening days. The days would grow longer, but the cold was not yet at its deepest depths. The Solstice was a symbol of hope, there would still be bad days, but the direction was warmer.

As we developed religions, it continued to get cold in the winter. Religious holidays, messages of hope, gravitated towards similar events. The birth of Jesus was celebrated on the Solstice, The Faith of the Maccabees is celebrated over an eight day event around the same time. Kwanzaa, a totally fabricated modern holiday, is celebrated over a seven day period at this time of year.

As time progressed the actual dates of the celebrations changed, Constantine separated from the Solstice and the birth of Jesus was celebrated on the 25th of December. The calendar itself has changed a couple of times as well.

“Happy Holidays” applies to most people because we are all celebrating the same thing, Hope. We may give it different names and attributes, but on the darkest day humanity looks forward together. While sniping at each other for celebrating the wrong way.

Earlier this year I was reading about a religious leader who had been asked to deliver a non-denominational prayer. He responded he would not, non-denomination meant no denomination to him. In many ways I agree, while we all have so much in common, a prayer is directed to a deity, within the constructs of its religion, according to a particular denomination. At which deity do you direct a non-denominational prayer? A blessing to one may be a curse to another.

We are at our best when we recognize our similarities, and at our worst when we deny our differences. We are different individuals with unique DNA, our thoughts are built on disparate influences. The best we can do is accept each other, which should cause us to understand ourselves better.

I have learned a good deal from listening to people who do not share my beliefs. Sometimes what I learn reinforces my beliefs, sometimes it challenges them, but it is always refreshing to discuss beliefs which have not crossed the line in my partner’s mind into “facts” which are simply a matter of faith. The only thing I have been able to learn from people who believe their articles of faith are facts is that they do not understand what a fact is, and often do not understand what beliefs are either.

Use this season and its gatherings to learn about people who think differently than you, rejoice about your similarities and respect your differences.

 

 

 

 

The Christians and the Pagans

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table,
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able,
Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and
Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold.

 

 

For some reason WordPress is not formatting properly, this really is multiple paragraphs
Those of you who have been reading this blog for years know that I am a fairly serious Christian. You also know I rarely partner with fellow Christians, I enjoy the differences. I am far from typical.
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My current partner is a recovering Atheist. I say “recovering” because she has actually been fired from one atheist group she had been a part of for two years, and left the national and local groups within a few years of that. She still has no belief in any deity, but she also believes that insulting and offending religions are not values she wishes to identify with. American Atheism has become Anti-Theistic, to the point that factions are creating other names to avoid being connected to Atheism. Not that changing names changes habits; an angry person is still angry by any other name.
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Janice loves Christmas, not the religious part but the spectacle. She waits until the day after Thanksgiving and the decorations go up. She has many sentimental objects with warm stories behind them. As we had coffee that morning, she mentioned an article about a Muslim who was placed on the “No Fly” list because he refused to be an informant, and was suing because he had to fly as a part of his job. We discussed the limits of the Separation of Church and State clause of the first amendment, as the article pointed out that a win for the plaintiff would be a win for the “Religious Right,” allowing citizens to discriminate on religious grounds. It is a complicated subject, measuring the values of various rights.
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As Janice continued decorating, she came across an old stocking, and asked if she could hang it in the living room. It was green, with an image and the sentiment of a message to Christians that Atheists believe in Science instead of God. I told her not to hang it in the living room and she asked if it would be okay to hang it in the bedroom. It was not the location I objected to, it was the stocking itself. I personally found it offensive and Janice  couldn’t quite understand, “It’s just a joke between atheists” she said. When I replied “Like the jokes about Nig***s you can share with your friends?” I think she understood. Insulting other religions is not funny, and is often a display of ignorance. There is no disparity between Christianity and Science, as I have mentioned before.

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Old habits die hard. She tried to defend the stocking, saying “It doesn’t actually say that Christians do not believe in science.” No it does not, it implies it, that’s what you found so funny when you were an Atheist. I think once she recognized that behaving in the manner you imagine your “evil” opponent does is also evil, she could see what she was doing.
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Later, we discussed a Holiday Party, and decided to have an Open House on Christmas. I went on Facebook and announced it on both of our pages, Janice is off Facebook following another run in with Antitheists who believed, due to her open and friendly personality, that she was as filled with hatred towards religions as they were. The old “my friends are just like me” blindness. I invited everyone, it will be interesting to see if any of her friends respond.
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Later this Christian and this Pagan set out to enjoy the night together. We went to a Holiday show by Bob Beru, followed by a show at a local restaurant with the band “Sal’s Last Minute All Stars,” aka the best band that never played together before. Sal greeted us warmly and we stayed until 0100.
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For the most part, we all have the same goals, Peace and Goodwill. We have far more in common than not. It is easy to find the differences and build them into a rationale for xenophobia, the truly intelligent find the commonalities.

About

Welcome to my blog.

I started this when my wife at the time said “You should really write this stuff down” one evening. Later I realized she just wanted me to stop talking so much.

I used to write every day, now I’m lucky to write once a month. I see people from all over the world still view pages everyday, so I will keep writing, sporadically.

I’ve seen quite a bit, there is still more to tell. I’m just busy having fun.

Sixty one

A few (six) years ago, a couple of friends got together for a birthday party at L’Archiduc in Brussels. Trulee was turning sixty, and her partner Samy rented the club, and some friends provided music. Blaine had just passed the sixty marker a week earlier, and if you notice in this extended intro, he asks “What comes after sixty?” to which you can hear Trulee call out “Sixty One!”

 

In a memorable evening, the simple obvious fact that sixty one comes after sixty remains a strong memory; life goes on. Now, I reach sixty one. I am reminded of the seasons of life as another friend of mine “retires” to Arizona, leaving behind fifty years of performances. I have also reached the time to rest.

The ride has been wonderful. Sure, I’ve visited the lowest places in the universe, I’ve also danced in the clouds. Balance is crucial in life; understanding that the good times will not last forever is healthier than crashing when they inevitably end. I expect them to end and come back, as they have several times. How am I supposed to write about all the different aspects of life if I haven’t experienced them?

The years have given the illusion of wisdom, more years illustrate the transient nature of the illusion. It works to remain calm, allow processes to run their course, listen rather than speak. I speak softly, and slowly; shouting dulls the senses. I give the appearance of being at peace. Usually I am.

I got to see the best bands, and some of the best concerts. I managed to be in the right (or wrong) places for some historical changes in society. I loved deeply and was loved as deeply. I played fair, even (maybe especially) when I was being treated unfairly. So now I get to enjoy myself. I am comfortable being anonymous, I don’t need to be noticed.

As I enter my sixty-first year, the changes that have taken place in my life are muted by the changes of the last year. So very much has taken place, I have not slowed down as I have aged; it has taken its price. There are good reasons to slow down consciously, rather than due to disability caused by not slowing down.

My desire to write is waning, in many ways my desire to communicate is drawing to a close. Too many people who honestly believe they know everything and want to argue without references are out there. I plan to withdraw from social media on my birthday, a present to myself, I can live much better without the vitriol. I am stuck here in the United States for the upcoming election year, and my capacity to overlook hate has been exhausted. I will still write the occasional blog, but I have no intention of becoming involved in the circus Americans refer to as “Politics.” I do rather enjoy checking the statistics on my readers, the other day one person read fifty of my articles.

As I write this, it has started snowing outside. The flakes fly in every direction from my view as various wind currents around the building carry it. The other day I watched every leaf on a tree in the complex fall off in under an hour, the area around its base covered with a green “snow.” There is plenty to see right out my window.

Janice and I will travel a bit, just in North America. We will still attend LGBT events, but as participants, on the street interacting with people. We intend to socialize locally with real people, as we turn our focus away from the internet and towards the real world. It’s a pretty cool place, I’ve spent a lot of time there.

Life is good, hope to see you along the way.

My Psychotic Break

I pretty much have to write about this.

A month or so ago, I found myself in a spiral of irritation. My sleep pattern slipped from not much to none at all. I was unsettled by something in my relationship and let it fill my mind. I spent the entire day of Sunday yelling at Janice. That’s what I remember.

In a lull of my mania, I asked for something to relax, Janice handed me a few of her pills. After that it gets hazy. The next thing I remember is the phone waking me. It was the police, they were outside my door and would like me to come out with my hands in the air. In my mind, I thought it was Sunday evening. It was Monday evening.

What I have been able to put together is that I was increasingly irrational, and threatened to kill myself quite convincingly. Janice was able to show me texts I had sent; I was horrible. But at this point in time all I knew was that I had fallen asleep and she had left.

I threw on some clothes, and slowly opened the door, revealing myself hands first. There was a nice little barricade set up down the hall, and the glint of laser sights from the rifles pointed at me. I invited them in, they placed handcuff on my wrists, and we took a ride to the hospital. My memory is still shaky at this point, I remember moments but not entire scenes. I know I was well mannered entering the hospital, and I know I lost all contact with reality shortly after arriving. I remember trying to bite one of the nurses, and seeing Janice through the glass door of my room. Later, they took me to a mental hospital, I had been involuntarily committed.

I arrived at the hospital Tuesday about noon, and suddenly realized I was missing an entire day. In my mind I was angry at Janice, thinking she had drugged and abandoned me. The conditions were as one might expect, a few steps up from Ken Kesey’s Oregon State Hospital, but the vibe remained. “Long Distance” calls had to be dialed from a special room, and for some reason anything out of the area code was considered long distance. It took another two days to get in touch with Janice. I think that was a good thing, I hadn’t quite figured out what had happened yet. She had been the person who had signed the order for involuntary commitment.

After release I was able to read the notes from my intake interview. I was described as having a flat affect. I remember slowly waking into reality, realizing the time lost, feeling shock.

It became rapidly apparent that the way out was to comply with treatment. I attended all the groups I could, making friends with the other mental patients. It was a fascinating microcosm of society, we had all, in effect, been equalized, stripped of our individuality. The depth of our mental illnesses determined our ability to recover. Some folks would obviously wait their time out and be released, some folks I seriously hope are never released, but I did not meet anyone who did not belong there. When I was able to realize that, I was able to realize that I belonged there, opening my mind to correcting my mistakes.

The groups were educational, not always about the subjects for which they were designed. One group about red flags put a bright light on one person’s attitudes about relationships, and also showed the folks paying attention that everything goes both ways. Had it not been such a hetero-normative group the message might have sunk in better.

I was (of course) open about my sexuality, I figured it would confuse the staff and spare me a room mate. It did, I was the only male without a room mate. A couple of women opened up about their sexuality, as far as I could see no one was uncomfortable in our group. We quickly became known as “The cool kids,” sitting at our own table at meals; then we slowly became “The old folks” as we dispensed our wisdom to the younger folks. The camaraderie helped us all.

As the week passed, new people arrived, most of them faceless, keeping to themselves, a few more aggressive, pointing out to us how we had felt during the early hours of our incarceration. I could see how I had been and was glad I had not been able to talk to Janice until after I calmed down. One person was particularly intimidating, and knew how to play the staff. He was what they called a “frequent flyer,” someone who had been there repeatedly. The staff knew he wouldn’t follow through on his threats, but we the patients did not. The tension was palpable, and I would like to think that my explanation to staff was a part of my release. I could see it from both sides and explained the difference between physical safety and emotional safety to a couple of nurses, people trained in the field who had just turned a blind eye to the purpose of the facility.

My medications were interesting. I received prompt attention because I take Truvada, an anti HIV drug. They wanted to know if I was HIV positive, so I was processed through medical quickly. Because I had drugs in my system (the ones Janice gave me) when I was admitted, they diagnosed me as a drug addict, and gave me anti-withdrawal meds all week. I received my anti-depressants as usual, but because Truvada and Fosamax are expensive they asked me to have them brought in. Remember the Long Distance issue? Knowing they would have to put out thousands for my meds helped me get permission to make phone calls.

That first phone call with Janice, on Thursday, was overwhelming. I was disgusted by the things she told me I had done as she gave me the timeline of my missing day. I thanked her for having me admitted. I was astounded that she cared for me, and missed me so much. I gave her the number to call in, so I could hear from her, and returned to my group. They could tell I had spoken to Janice, I was glowing. She called every evening, and for that time I was free, not incarcerated. She came to visit and time stood still.

I was released on Monday, and the morning was pure stress. I was told my regular psychiatrist had not been contacted, and I couldn’t be released without appointments with her in the next week. It was less than an hour before my scheduled release when I finally got my post hospitalization therapy schedule. We drove home and spent the rest of the day talking. I had the epiphany that the psychotic break was related to having never fully grieved Emma, and was up all night organizing her shrine, telling stories about each item.

As a result of my commitment, I am no longer eligible to own firearms. I agree. I had no idea what I was doing for over twenty four hours, had I chosen to resort to violence I had a solid arsenal and a couple thousand rounds of ammunition. The possibility I could have another break is higher after having one, so I have no issue with surrendering my weapons. The police were exceptionally nice, assisting with selling the firearms and returning items that were borderline inappropriate, like a set of rolling papers in packages designed by Olivia De Berardinas. I did like the expression on the detective’s face when he said how nice my rifles were, and don’t want to imagine the look when he entered the bedroom with the swing.

My doctors have been interesting, the “What happened?” opening was almost funny. Because what happened was not funny. My brain broke. You can call it a nervous breakdown or psychotic break or whatever makes you comfortable, but I did a hard reboot. I did things I do not remember any part of. I had conversations and wrote texts of which I have no memory. I am better, but the experience was moving. I am fortunate that Janice, against her normal intuition, called 911 and followed through in committing me. I needed the rest. I still need rest, but have spent the intervening month helping Janice move her mother in law (her husband passed away) into my home. I have watched my friend’s final performances before “retiring” to Arizona after fifty years in the music business and spent late nights hanging with musicians several times. I know I am slowing down relative to what I was before, but when I look at it I can not call it “slow.”

I know the path to illness and can avoid it, I am building my resources to be prepared.

 

Family ties

My family has never been much for communication. They believe they communicate, they certainly talk a great deal, but the contact required for actual communication is not always present.

My previous favorite example was a letter my father wrote to me. At one point in the Two Thousands, my company had a contract with the Philadelphia Water Department. There were old pictures on the walls, one of a gas chromatograph from my father’s old company. I sent him a picture of it, and talked about some things going on in my life at the time. His response was a four page history of the Beckman GC-4 (the one in the picture).

Today he exceeded his previous record.

Months after berating me for my life of sin, he sent a short note about what he had been doing and what was happening in his life. I responded with an equally neutral update on my comings and goings, leading off with a mention that I was recently released from a mental hospital following an exhaustion induced psychotic break, mentioning Janice and her Mother in Law who are now living with me, telling him my cat survived cancer, letting him know about future plans. I also mentioned that President Trump’s abandonment of the Kurds could not be rationalized.

A few days later I received his response. He did not comment on any of the things I mentioned, not a word about the psychotic break; instead a two line defense (and praise) of President Trump’s tactics. Love Dad.

Since the break, I have been considering the concept of erasure. So perhaps I’m a little sensitive. My life meant nothing to him.

I’ll write more about the break next time. It was a fascinating experience.

My family has always been interesting. They all tend to be complex amalgams of various points of view, and they are all focused on one of them at a time. Sometimes that is a good thing, sometimes it is challenging. My eldest son is still focused on some issue that came up after he stopped seeing me.

This is a contrast to Janice. Her family is closer, and her extended family is endless. Sometimes seeing the universe as your family is a bit off-putting to me, I’m doing my best to find a compromise. Janice’s husband ended his life a few years ago, which did not slow her when her former Mother in Law (Connie) needed a place to stay. Now that Janice has moved in with me, so did her Mother in Law. It has certainly brought some changes to our lives, but none that we would not welcome. Connie has been a wonderful addition to my home, to my family.

Connie promptly had a heart attack after moving in and is in the local hospital, and Janice’s children will be visiting today, more family.

I wasn’t sure I would like this. My previous explorations into mixed families have been horrendous failures. Janice’s family has been wonderful, there has never been any friction. As a counterpoint to my own family, they have been humbling. Not that my family is unusually cold, it is just the contrast.

I find it pleasant to have a family to care for, it’s nice to have people to cook for, little things to do for each other. Rather than an increase in stress, it is having a calming effect. This is the peace I have needed. I am grounded and stable.

 

 

World Pride Day

30 June 2019, 8th St at 6th Ave NYC

 

Pride Day became Pride week became Pride month. The culmination of Pride month was the weekend of 29/30 June in New York City. Janice and I arrived Friday and left Monday morning. It was a wonderful weekend in so many ways, the crash of backlash seems so incredibly offensive.

Fifty years ago a group of drag queens and other queers got tired of being abused by the police, so they fought back. The original Pride was days of riots. Today is a celebration, backed by corporate sponsors who occasionally have a horrible history of anti LGBT+ discrimination. The spin off march, Queer Liberation, works to remind everyone that the original Pride was a riot; and has no corporate presence. I really should have gotten up a few hours earlier and gone to that parade, but this was the big fiftieth anniversary of the Stonewall Riots so we wanted to see the main parade.

I am exceptionally grateful that I had the sense not to march in either parade. I’m not sure I could have kept it up. From the very first person to the last there were genuine smiles of joy. Everyone was smiling, there weren’t even any whining children despite many children being present. I had been standing for nine hours before I realized I had been standing for nine hours. Janice was starting to collapse, having been the center of attention on our block for nine hours. This is when we found that we should have stayed on the other side of the street. There were barriers to prevent crossing the street, and we were inside the perimeter of the celebration. When that last smiling marcher passed by around midnight, we were able to try to find our way home.

Fortunately, I remembered enough about New York Subways to avoid the frustration of finding a cab. As we entered the station, some idiot who thought he could take over the world monetary system was trying to use the ticket machine to do and a group of girls in line were fighting, so an exhausted NYPD officer unlocked the doors to get everyone onto the platform (for free!).

The vibe in the air was love, and acceptance. It was not unusual to see (or not) wonderfully sculpted garments that enhanced the beauty of the person adorned. There was a small amount of nudity, most women wore pasties and the majority of men kept their genitals out of view. I dressed properly.

Somehow I forgot sunscreen, I have the most unusual tan lines.

 

Janice, being full of excitement, actually got sunburn on her armpits from waving her arms in the air. Being exceptionally beautiful with rainbow heart pasties, she drew some surprising attention. Gay guys like boobies too, every camera that passed seemed to pause on her. Marchers would stop and cheer her “bravery,” often lifting their shirts to show they were already wearing pasties (or not). And perhaps raising our prestige on the street even higher, a couple of people marching and in cars for organizations made a point of talking to her from the parade, because they were friends involved in the same organizations. We even were noticed by a couple of professional photographers, one producing a story for a European magazine,  another the lovely Dianne Arndt, a New York based international photographer.

 

Courtesy Dianne Arndt

 

Being the fiftieth anniversary of the riots, New York was the center of World Pride Day. There were groups from many countries, but I only saw two Belgian flags (don’t read anything into that, I know plenty of LGBT+ Belgians). As well as other countries, other cities were represented, some just small towns I had never heard of.

 

 

One of the two Belgian Flags I saw in the parade

 

There were the traditional contingents of each variety of the LGBT+ community, and the corporate sponsors ranged from IBM to Fred’s Hardware. There were very few political statements, no matter how you regard LGBT+ folks, we come from every walk of life. The presence of church groups was nice.

Crowd estimates ranged from 800,000 people present to three million visitors to NYC for the purpose of the LGBT+ events.

 

Janice with a fellow “Pasties Pride” spectator

Of course, even after a wonderful weekend surrounded by my peers, we had to return to the real world. We came home, caught up with everyone who couldn’t be there or we had seen. Janice posted the above picture on her Facebook page. In addition to receiving almost a hundred “likes” from our friends, a relative of mine chose the occasion to make a rude remark. It felt weird blocking a relative. I have no idea what it will be like when we visit next so yes, I am appropriately intimidated. What I will not be is ashamed. Should she choose to argue (I have no idea what her problem is, I am loving a woman these days) I do feel better informed about her likely issue. Turns out the word “Homosexual” did not exist in the English Bible until the twentieth century. The word it is translated from is usually translated as “Child molester.” Early Bibles even contained the correct translation, some still do. Then there’s the clear words of Jesus when he tells people to grow, to love everyone, and hate no one.

I thought I understood the prejudice and harassment LGBT+ people live with. I was in that “privileged” group of Bisexuals who “pass” as straight. After all this time, people still don’t get it; what happens in my bedroom is as much of your business as what you do in yours is mine. I “came out” to more people who had simply ignored my previous attempts, and I can only imagine how difficult this must be for someone with insecurities. I’ve had friends cancel engagements, stop talking with me, and in a few cases end our friendships. So much for our enlightened society.

This year, I am Proud. I have a sense of community I have never felt before. People of diverse circumstance and sexuality joined in support of all who stand outside. I also feel a sadness for those who deny love when it doesn’t fit their understanding, I personally cannot see two humans expressing love for each other and not feel joy.

So get out there, straight, gay, or any variation and spread love.