What to Say to Conservatives: Lucus a non Lucendo

lükəˌsā¦nänlüˈsenˌdō
IS HOW YOU SAY MY NEW FAVORITE LATIN PHRASE

Ladies think it's sexy when you speak Latin

I have a friend that says the same thing every time Donald Trump comes up: "I read an article about the net-worths of presidents and it said that Obama made all his money because of his presidency and that Clinton was almost broke before he became president, and now he's rich, and Trump hasn't made a dime being president.

Of course it isn't true, but what does it have to do with anything? Both Dem presidents were in office for eight years and had very lucrative book deals. Both were also civil servants before taking the highest office. Also, why are we talking about this when we were just talking about Russia?!?!!?

LUCUS A NON LUCENDO!!!!

Lucus a non lucendo literally means it's not a dark grove in that it is not lighted. It's an absurd little joke because grove is called lucus only because there's no light there, but lucus looks like it's related to the word lucere (to shine). It's related to parum luceat, meaning it doesn't shine being darkened by shade.

HOW CAN I USE THIS TERM?

Well, you can use it in place of non sequitur if you want and don't mind spell check putting red lines under lucus a non lucendo. Or you can use it for any absurdity. You can use it place of bullshit and make yourself sound super smart. I think you can also use in place of oxymoron, but I can't find anything online that will tell me that's actually acceptable, but who cares? It's Latin. You can do whatever you want to do with it when speaking English.

But I'm going to scream it every time we're talking about Donald Trump and someone says "what about Hillary Clinton?"

I'm going to scream it every time someone says "All lives matter" when we're talking about Black Lives Matter

I'm going to scream it at "Fake News."

And any time someone says something about how it's snowing so there's no such thing as humans affecting the climate, I'm gonna whip it out:

Lucus a non lucendo.

Right now it's on Merriam-Webster's bottom 20% in popularity. I'm going to bring that number up!

What's a Mangina?

IN DEFENSE OF JAMES BOND

Guest blog by Kevin Kunundrum

I'm tired of dreadlocked Millennial Manginas making videos to meet Social Justice Warrior women under the guise of declaring how terrible men are. And I love when they speak for all men and apologize on our behalf. Do they think by condemning men en masse, they’ll appear all sensitive and sanctified to Feminists?

I see through you, Manginas! Babbling whiningly at length about men's oppression, blah-blah-blah, and chanting the new catch-phrase: 'Toxic Masculinity' 

O, to be an evil Man, the wellspring of all that is bad, the oppressor of all that is good.

I try to ignore them, but now they're Bond bashing!

Behold the usual Bond-bashing boilerplate. "James Bond is a misogynist Neanderthal alcoholic murderer who flees from his own feelings and uses women as disposable playthings for his own amusement, etcetera..." Sure, James Bond's an easy target, from a superficial point of view. So let us for a moment, examine James Bond in depth, the real Double-O-Seven... 

James Bond was conceived in a World War, with bombs raining down on Britain. According to Ian Fleming, he had a traumatic childhood. Orphaned at eleven, he went to live with his aunt in the small English village of Pett Bottom. If you don't find that hilarious, you'll be among the first to go in the coming Apocalypse. Learn to laugh, dear friends...  

So Bond is an only-child-orphan-introvert, which means he can become one of three things: a serial killer, a poet, or a secret agent. And he chooses secret agent. And what does this mean? He decides to live his life for the greater good, the greater good being England. And this used to be part and parcel of coming of age, the notion that you go into the service to give something back. That's why they call it the service!

This is how Britain withstood the Nazis when the firebombs set London ablaze. When the blackest of evils was right across the Channel, the people gave their all, out of sacrifice and selfless obligation. But James Bond takes it a step further. He doesn't just sign up for a stint, two years and out. He's in it for the long haul. And it's not as some desk-bound bureaucrat, home by 5 for G&Ts... No, Mr. Bond does the heavy lifting. He ventures where no one wants to go, where the shit is always headed for the fan.

And he doesn't just save a few people or even England, but more times than not, the world!

How 'bout you, dreadlocked Mangina? How many times have you saved anything?

When 400,000 men are stranded at Dunkirk, you don't whine. You get in your boat, whatever it is, and you sail out. And you fight the freaking Nazis for six long years and you see things and do things that scar you forever. But it's for England, the world, and the children unborn. Talk about sacrifice! And you silently endure because those that don't know will never know, and those that do, know it all too well. We can't tailor-make our life to be rid of rough edges. The rough edges are there precisely so that we can become our best or our worst. It's not easy to heed the call. It's when we find what we're made of. And some of us, sadly, come up short.

And what does James Bond do? His courage and mettle are constantly tested. His loyalty, his steadfastness, his ingenuity, his humanity. He's given the worst tasks where he must do things most never imagine. And because of this, his life is measured not in decades or years but in days. Sometimes, hours and minutes. Imagine if you knew that you could be dead tomorrow. You might enjoy that drink tonight. You might savor that woman. But you know there's no future in it because you have no future. That's a given. You've accepted it. 

And what do these women see when James Bond appears? A man with the confidence that stems from confronting humanity's darkness. Someone who faces death and defeat and who somehow surmounts it. And as things crash around them with death racing forward, James Bond calmly, collectedly figures it out and saves the day. Who wouldn't find this attractive?

He's someone who will always have your back. Who will never give up. But unlike Mr. Mangina who uses exalted rhetoric as a ploy to get laid, James Bond says very little.  And when he has a brief respite he enjoys it fully because he knows more than most the measure of life. As Bond says to 'M' in Casino Royale, 'So you want me to be half-monk, half-hitman'... But he's more than just a blunt instrument. He's a 'sin-eater' who takes in the darkness for the benefit of all.

Courage, fortitude, loyalty, authenticity. These are Bond's currency. And he is nothing if not authentic. He's always himself, never anyone else, and you can depend on this. It's one of the rarest things in a world in which you can depend on practically nothing.

Have You Read Live Nude Girls?

LIVE NUDE GIRLS

Hope might be a trap. It might be what keeps us all going, but it might destroy you. Or it might just be what gets you on Oprah.

Kevin Postupack wrote this incredible novel ostensibly about a bisexual stripper with an overactive mind and who's maybe too much of an autodidact. She's a voracious reader with ADHD and an extreme imagination. But what the novel's really about is identity.

What's in a name?

Every character in the book has an alias, and you'd think this'd be a little confusing but it isn't. People are able to be two things at once, and rather than make this liminal space off-limits to the reader, Postupack invites you to inhabit it with Daphne and her assassin cat, Noodles. It's easy to do because the narrator is operating under the assumption that we all contain multitudes.

Like Schrödinger's cat, we're alive and dead at the same time, but rather than keep that proverbial box closed, Postupack spends his time ripping the tops off them like Cracker Jack boxes looking for prizes. Sometimes there's a prize, and sometimes you get a dead cat, but the courage to keep opening them is something worth celebrating, and I think Kevin Postupack's novel does that with aplomb.

Live Nude Girls is sexy without being crude, deep without being preachy, and hilarious without being corny. Those are all hard balancing acts.

There's even a Nazi-hunter, a self-declared goddess/restaurateur, and a Cuban strip-club-owner who claims to have prescient visions. The name of the strip club? Pandora's. You can't help but open that one.

---

Prometheus could see the future, and Epimetheus could see the past. Epimetheus is often called the "foolish brother" but how could he be? Wouldn't an accurate and crystal clear remembrance of the past endow you with great wisdom? Wouldn't you almost be able to predict the future based on the events of the past? After all, that's how statistics work.

Anyway, the box: It was given to Pandora as a dowry after Hephaestus built her with beauty and cunning. But it was Zeus's plan to unleash plagues onto man via her box to take them down a notch. They'd recently been blessed with agriculture and fire. So out of her jar came disease and famine and hard work and all the other evil fates that befall men. . . but only one is mentioned by name. Elpis, hid under the lid, claiming instead to be the only palliative to assuage the plight of man. Elpis means Hope.

But I think Elpis was simply the most clever of the fates, endeavoring to stay close to us in order to inflict the most constant, enduring pain of all.

The White Maggot Story

Googled "sexy white maggot"

I know everyone who tells a story like this makes themselves out to be the perfectly rational one in the scenario. But I think anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant, especially as a manager, has stories like this one. Bear in mind, a manager's job is to remain calm.

We had a party of 18 come in and buy a bunch of birthday desserts at the end of their meal. We didn't normally sing to birthday people, but someone thought it'd be funny to make Gerardo put on a little sombrero and sing happy birthday. Gerardo had only been there for a week and was a shy guy, so I thought it'd be funny; after all, the group had a huge bill. I couldn't let him go it alone, so I put on a lucha libre mask, and Gerardo put on a little sombrero, and we sang happy birthday to the table whilst delivering four giant desserts.

Back in the kitchen, a server told me a guest was being very rude to her saying she wanted me to sing happy birthday. I sent out a free dessert and asked the server to kindly tell her that we don't normally sing and the masked man has left the building, but her birthday dessert was on us.

We got a little rush in business just then and I forgot about it, but a bit later the same server said someone wanted to speak with me. So I dropped everything and went out to the table.

"Hi ladies, my name's Sky; how's everything going?" I said in my nicest voice possible.
"Well, the service was great, the food was good, but you're a fucking ass hole."
One lady was eating the dessert I'd sent out. Their meals were in to-go bags. They'd already settled their tab. She just wanted to curse me out.
"What happened, what's going on?" I ignored the insult to figure out why she would be so rude.
"You didn't sing to my friend!"
"Oh," I smiled, "that's not normally something we do, we were just playing a joke on the new guy. I'm sorry we didn't sing. I can sing for you right now if you'd like."
"I don't want anything from you!"
"Maybe I can look at your tab and take something off."
"I don't want anything for free!"
"I did send out a free dessert for your friend's birthday."
"We had to wait forever for it."
"Ma'am, I'd really like to fix the problem, but I don't know how I can do that. You don't like the free dessert, you won't let me reopen your tab, and you don't want me to sing."
That's when the birthday girl put down her spoon and said "You're the fucking manager, you ain't got no fucking skills."
Too which I said, "well you're obviously a classy lady that doesn't have the time for the likes of me, so I'll say thank you and I'm sorry your experience wasn't what you wanted. Happy birthday," and I walked away. I really thought that was my only option: remain calm and polite and walk away.

I posted up at the host stand because people who go nuts on the manager usually like screaming at the hosts, and I hate that. What do you seek to gain by yelling at an 18-year-old girl who has nothing to do with you?

First the ladies went to the bar and said something about how I think I can treat them any kind of way because of who's president. The bartender just nodded in that scared way service people nod when people have gone psycho.

Then someone was at the front door, so I opened it for them. They walked in and when I looked over my shoulder the ladies were RIGHT BEHIND ME. So I smiled, held the door, and said "have a great night."

The first lady walked through without a word, but the second started hollering at me. "I ain't walking through no door held by you. Fuck you peasant mother fucker. Fucking white maggot. I'll beat your white ass."

"Ma'am, please just go. Your night gets better the second you leave. Have a great night."
"Fuck you maggot. Get out of my way."

So I asked her friend to hold the door and got out of the way. But that wasn't enough.

"Fucking maggot. Get outta here."
"Ma'am, that's not how this works. You're the one who has to leave, and I'm the one who has to stay. I live here. Please just have a great night."

She had her back to her friend and the front door and kept screaming "white maggot." And I kept saying "Have a great night." The whole restaurant was staring. Later, many of them would console me, including three black dudes who apologized on behalf of black people, a first in my life. I've apologized for racist white ass holes many times in my life, but I'd never been on the receiving end of that weird apology.

Then the lady crossed the line, and I almost lost it. She said, "you support Donald Trump and think that gives you all the power!"

"Lady, if you don't leave I'm calling the police. I might be a white maggot, but I'm no fucking Trump supporter. Now GET OUT!"

---

The lady called corporate the next day saying she had other problems in life and that I egged her on. I told corporate I would have taken care of their meal and sung to them even after they called me a fucking ass hole, but when you start off calling someone a fucking ass hole, there's not a lot of places that conversation can go.

She wanted to abuse someone, and there I was. But she would have had a much better night if she had just a tiniest collection of manners at her disposal.

In the Ghetto

Here's where I ruin that Elvis Presley song everyone likes.

Mac Davis wrote it back in 1969, and Elvis made it huge, and a ton of people have covered it. I did a punk rock cover of it with my band back in the day. Everyone has heard this song.

And we're still talking about generational poverty in a barbaric way at the highest levels of politics and governance.

People don't you understand, this child needs a helping hand?

When I hear songs like this I wonder what conservatives think if they think anything at all about words.

In a world where words are mattering less and less, maybe songs are mattering less, too. Perhaps they've always dismissed songs like this like they dismiss giant portions of their supposedly favorite book.

The message of this song is that nothing will change unless we do something. I don't want to get too preachy here, but if they weren't going to listen to the republican Elvis Presley, trying to talk sense or write parable-esque songs now isn't going to work.

Ugh, but I don't feel like giving up just yet. I was in Vegas on October 1. The worse shooting in history, and we've done nothing. It isn't apathy. . . people care, but what's with the inaction? Lethargy? Phlegmatism?

Take a look at you and me, are we too blind to see?

And the saddest thing about this song is that the cycle continues.

---

I do want to ask: what are the characters' races in your mind's eye when you hear this song?

---

What is it with conservatives standing behind books no one ever reads in their entirety?

No one has EVER read Atlas Shrugged from cover to cover. NO ONE! I read the Bible cover because someone forced me to, but not even priests or pastors do that. There is a mysterious power in quoting books and saying you stand by books no one else has read.

It isn't just conservatives. I read Ulysses only because I didn't want people wielding its power against me. I never took a class in which is was assigned and I've read it TWICE! Once as a young writer living abroad and again in college. Snobby pseudo-intellectuals like to use it as a kind of litmus test to see if you're in their club.

But I'm not reading Atlas Shrugged. I got maybe 100 pages in and put it down. I read The Fountainhead when I thought I wanted to be an architect, and that was enough Ayn Rand. I liked that one. Ayn Rand is all about replacing god with the dollar. It's incredible to me that no one holds Christian conservatives to task on this.

If there's someone out there quoting books in your life, either dismiss them altogether or read their book and crush them. You'll more than likely lose a friend/family member in the process, but who cares? We're all headed the same direction.

Letterman Does what CNN Can't and Fox Won't

I watched David Letterman's new show, My Next Guest Needs No Introduction, last night and loved it as kind of a highbrow version of Sarah Silverman's I Love America with far fewer jokes and a format more like Actor's Studio but not as cringeworthy and far less boring somehow.

Its genial tone and Letterman's obvious interest and genuine stake in the conversation are like a welcome respite to the maelstrom of political screaming everywhere. Even when they spoke of Trump, they were respectful and polite. GASP POLITE!!!!?!!?!

I could gush about the show, but what's really interesting to me is this line I saw quoted on CNN when I woke up this morning:

"One of the things that Michelle figured out, in some ways faster than I did, was part of your ability to lead the country doesn't have to do with legislation, doesn't have to do with regulations, it has to do with shaping attitudes, shaping culture, increasing awareness."

This is a really great line that encapsulates what I love about this show (and Barack Obama) and what I hate about what's happened in the media in the last few years.

This is president Obama speaking off the cuff, and it's more measured and thoughtful than anything we've seen come out of prepared speeches from most presidents, least of all our current one. He's humble and manages to maintain a dominant position with a self-deprecating opening. It's almost as if he's willing to say, "forget about who I am for a moment, Jack; I'm begging you to realize how important your role is to our culture."

Today when I rolled over and looked at my phone, the first article was from CNN:

Obama's stern warning for Trump

I mean... a plea maybe. A stern warning? C'mon. I know you guys went to college and know what words mean. I'm not even asking you to take the high road, but this is a little ridiculous. You can't say truth matters and words matter when you're going to use this as your headline for a one-sentence quote in which Trump wasn't even mentioned. If the truth matters, act like it.

Anyway, in a world lacking dignity, decorum, grace, civility, and compassion at the highest levels of governance and entertainment, this new David Letterman format had me sighing in relief that all is not lost.

I'm glad someone like Letterman is throwing himself back into this in a meaningful way.

Here are some links:

Obama's Stern Warning »
Mr Letterman's New Show »

You Can Say You to Me

There's a legend in which Helmut Kohl told Bill Clinton "You can say you to me." I remember laughing about this friendly little gaf. See, in the German language, they still have the familiar pronoun. "Thou" is in the ashcan of English antiquity, but it survives as "du" in modern German.

So when a German says "you can say you to me," he's inviting you to be his friend. And who wouldn't want to be Helmut Kohl's friend? He promoted peace, unity, prosperity for 16 years. His accomplishments include unifying Germany and ushering in a pan-European currency!

And he was a conservative!

The reason I'm thinking of Helmut Kohl and his funny little (alleged) language error is our own conservative party in the USA.

Everything is vitriol now. "I'm a genius." "You live in a shithole." "That guys sucks his own cock." "That guy is a fucking idiot." It's exhausting. Where's the basic human decency?

I'm a progressive. But I've agreed with some conservatives. High-functioning humans in politics are complicated, and you can agree with some of their views without accepting all of them. But these days conservatives are two-dimensional caricatures obsessed with cheap insults and bad manners.

Helmut Kohl was at times brutal in his politics, but wanted to be your friend. He wanted everyone to be friends. He convinced Reagan to visit a German military (NAZI) cemetery in the name of friendship!

And after he left office, he was humble and introspective and reflected on his own political tactics, admitting that he at times acted like a dictator in the name of peace.

Helmut Kohl died in June last year (2017).

Here's more about him:
Wiki »
Acted like a Dictator »
Cost of reunification »

---

As a caveat, I'd like to offer this anecdote:

Yesterday at work a couple of women ate lunch and in the end, after eating everything except their ceviche appetizer, told their server that they "tried everything in the world to make this taste better, but it tastes like shit." They didn't want to pay for it.

They could have said something like "I'm sorry, but I didn't enjoy this, and I'd prefer not to pay for it." Why be vulgar for no reason? Why begin with conflict?

The ceviche was covered in hot sauce and salt as a result of their trying to make it "taste better."

I'm guessing they were not Trump supporters. But what the president and his ilk are accomplishing is a drastic diminishment of how we interact with one another. And I think it's important to have a culture of dignity and respect.

I resisted the urge to ask them if that's how they talk when they go to someone's house.

Thanks for Being Nice to Animals

Bad Ass Vegetarian

I always love it when PETA features bad ass vegetarians in their communications. If I ever have enough money, I would like to open a manufactory of bad ass vegan gear. I don't think that market is covered enough by the likes Stella McCartney, &c.

I mean, I don't subscribe to the 1960's male identity GQ and Men's Health are peddling, but there is definitely a part of me that appreciates the rougher parts of masculinity. I do not believe for one nanosecond that the "Eat Like a Man" B.S. touted by male-targeted magazines is accurate, necessary, or even tolerable.

Consider what my most likely causes of death will be as a white, heterosexual, American male: a heart-related illness, colon cancer, or prostate cancer. All of those C.O.D.'s are directly related to the disgusting amount of animal products American men eat.

Why do men eat so many damned animals? Because they have been trained since birth to believe that masculinity and eating animal flesh are somehow related. They've been duped by campaigns with billions of dollars behind them. It's the same thing that caused them to smoke, the same thing that causes them to drink crap beer, and the same thing that gets them to buy big trucks they never really use (unless they're contractors or something).

When women redefined their role in our society (and continue to fight to do), men did not. Why should they have? They were the kings of castles, and their word was command, after all and for the most part. So they missed the boat. And now, men are still living like it's 1965. Women are communicating differently, having the right kinds of arguments about their gender identity, questioning what their role is in this millennium, and I think there's an underlying frustration with their counterparts who are behaving as if nothing has changed.

Well, I hope that there are more ads like this for all of our sake. Jake Shields is an MMA fighter who kicks a lot of ass and is undeniably masculine, even fitting into a stereotype of masculinity, a stereotype men are comfortable with, and he's vegetarian. That's extremely bad ass.

My Opening Statement to Council

This was my opening statement to Council on Wednesday:

I'd like to thank Council and the people of Staunton for allowing me to be heard and to apply to the position.

Every decision City Council makes affects no other generation more than my own. The young people who want to start businesses and families in Staunton are the future of this community, and I think it's time that more of us start taking an active role in shaping that future.

I love this city, and I hope that when my hair is gray and my beard is long I'll still be as active in the community here as I am today. But today, I am young. I am full of energy and fresh ideas and perhaps more hope and idealism than most of those who are more advanced in age and have applied for this job. But I'm not by any means alone, and I think that it's time my demographic, the builders and makers of things, and the risk-takers and investors in our future are more directly represented by City Council.

I think City Council has done a great job in several areas about which I care a great deal. But what better way to prove that Staunton City Council continues to look toward a brighter future even during trying times? What better way to advertise their commitment to progress and their duty to represent those whom are most affected by their decisions than to invite someone like me to serve with them?

I may have never worked on the school board or headed a controversial political organization, but I'm a quick study, and I would not let you down, if appointed, and I'll work my hardest toward a brighter tomorrow while addressing the difficult decisions of today.

My Night at City Hall

Last Wednesday, I was interviewed by Staunton City Council at City Hall. It was a grilling session much like Jim Carey faced during the pivotal scene of The Majestic. It was rather exhilarating.

Over all, it was an educational and interesting experience, and though I lost, I'm not sorry I applied. The winner of the position was the second youngest person to apply, the nearly twice my age James Harrington. He's 59, and I'm 30. The others were all over 70, I think.

From the day he applied, I suspected James would take the seat, as he seems reasonable and rational, and he has some experience. But can I tell you what bothers me? He isn't a business owner or a businessman of any kind; he's a professor who's served on the school board. So, as a young business person, I feel underrepresented by Council. True, getting young people involved in local politics is like herding cats, and I often seem to be the youngest person at most political events around here, but there are plenty of young business people that should be represented by their local officials. Choosing a 60-year-old professor does not accomplish that, and that bothers me quite a bit.

Our City Council is pretty good. I like all of the people currently on it, and I would have liked the opportunity to work with them. James Harrington seems like a good man, and by all reports he is one. But in a city where the old guard is already so well represented and so powerful, it would have been nice if City Council would have strengthened its commitment to the generation its decisions affect more than any other by picking, well, me.

Thanks to all of you wrote to Council with your recommendations. Council was impressed by this outpouring of support. There were close to 100, and that's huge for a special appointment. I'm not sure what the next step for us is, but I'd love to hear your suggestions, and a bird told me that I'd be receiving suggestions from the Mayor himself(!). There's sure to be much more fun in 2010, friends. I hope to earn your support in the next year.

Thanks also to Council and all Stauntonians for the opportunity to embark on such a worthy adventure.

City Hall

This is Councilman Bruce Elder. He’s the tallest person to ever serve on Staunton City Council, maybe on any City Council anywhere. He is a no-nonsense kind of guy who sees both sides of every issue and wants to make the city a better place for everyone.

I like Bruce Elder.

If I’m appointed to City Council tonight, I will be the youngest person to ever serve. I will be the second tallest person to ever serve, too.

You can tell Bruce and the other members of Council to appoint me as often as you’d like. You can come see me get interviews at City Hall at 6pm. It will be epic.

Please reblog and tell a friend. Please tell City Council to appoint me!

City Hall

This is City Council. Dickie Bell is leaving (the really old one). I want his seat. I will be the youngest person to ever serve on Staunton City Council if appointed. It will be epic.

You can tell City Council to appoint me as often as you'd like.

City Hall

This is Mayor Lacy King. When Dickie Bell leaves Council, he will be the oldest person on Council. He’s a nice man who supports the arts and is interested in new ideas for economic development. If I am appointed tonight, I will be the youngest person to ever serve on Staunton City Council.

You can tell Mayor King to appoint me tonight. You can tell him many times if you’d like.

You can come to City Hall at 6pm and watch me “get grilled.”

Dickie Bell Shocker

So. Dickie Bell hates firemen. That's clear. When they want to apply for a grant to for "free" money, Dickie needs "convincing." The "free" money would keep firefighters alive by providing enough money for six new firefighters' salaries for two years. Staffing is the biggest problem for firefighters all over the state of Virginia and probably all over the US.

So the law around here is this: if you get to a fire, two people have to stand outside of the burning building no matter what. This is a good law. People want to run into burning buildings, and firefighters have to keep them from doing so. If people come running out of the building, the firefighters outside have to give them first aid. And if there are firefighters inside, there needs to be someone outside who can observe the situation and communicate with the guys risking their lives in there.

As it stands, the trucks go out with two guys on them. Only one truck gets there, and there are only two guys! So they have a choice: follow the law and stand outside the building, letting everyone and everything inside perish; or say "to hell with the law" and do what they can at a much greater risk to themselves than is necessary or tolerable. I think we know, after 9/11 especially, what firefighters choose. These men and women put their lives on the line for all of us.

How should we thank them?

Dickie Bell voted against firehouse #2 in Staunton. He has voted against every public safety measure in Staunton. And now, the fire department, reduced to writing grants like college students, has found a way to save their own lives and ours, but Dickie Bell is against that, too.

The fire department cannot afford to remain non-political. I'm not going to tell them what party they need to start endorsing, but maybe after two years of Dickie Bell voting against helping the families of fallen heroes, they'll figure it out for themselves. Two years is a long, tough time to learn that lesson.

Here's an article about Dickie's latest travesty of public service. It's a pretty conservative paper; bare that in mind.
I honestly wonder what kind of statement Dickie thinks it makes to claim that we don't have enough money to save lives while we have plenty of money for things like golf courses.

Harvey Milk and the bad guys

Yesterday, I watched MILK.
If you've been following this blog for a long time, you know that I walked onto the set when they were filming it in SF.

It's a good movie. It made me miss California.
The thing that really got to me though, the thing that really "affected" me, was that people like Dickie Bell, if he ever bothered to see a movie about equal rights, probably cheer at the end.

In fact, I know he would. It bothers me. It bothers me that people like that run for office. It bothers me that people like that are allowed to live with you and me, and that they have a voice that divides us.

Dickie Bell actually has anti-gay shit on the mailer he sent out as a reason to vote for him.

Save the arctic

Campaign office

We scouted and secured the office right behind the candidate for the
Erik Curren for Delegate Campaign. It's perfect!

Calling all Congress: "Fuck Common Sense"

I called my congressman today to tell him that I wanted healthcare reform. I told him that I was a small business owner who supported Obama's plan to reform national healthcare.

A few weeks ago, I called the Virginian senators to tell them the same thing.

I hope they listen.

The truth is, I don't think that Bob Goodlatte, my congressman, cares about human beings very much. I don't think that he'll listen to me or anyone else. He wrote a short article about what he calls "common sense healthcare reform" that acknowledges the broken state of the national healthcare system and basically sets a stage where my mom wouldn't be able to get mammograms in the near future.

The problem with "common sense" is that no one can really agree on what it means. "Common sense," after all, dictates that the world is flat. It also says that capital punishment deters crime. "Common sense" is almost always wrong when it comes to big things. Healthcare is definitely a big thing.

Republican and Libertarian arguments often rest very heavily on "common sense," but "Main Street logic on Wall Street" is bull shit, unfortunately. There are unforeseeable factors at play that "common sense" simply cannot account for. That's why people go to school for a long time to figure out how satellites orbit our planet without bumping into one another or how banks can make a ton of money short-term and destroy the national economy long-term.

"Common sense" makes Einstein's theory of relativity look unfathomable, and yet it works. It works because scientists have a method involving endless calculations and experiments that proves whether it will. Of course, you could buy a scientist to say whatever you want, but in the end, a scientist is a much better person to place your bets on than "common sense." That's why people ask expert witnesses so many questions in court: they know more than "common sense" folks.

Experts, real experts, say that national healthcare reform is good for small businesses and everyone else.

The Virginia Adventure Begins

Whew!
As election night rounded 8PM PST, I cheered because Virginia went Blue. The race was called shortly thereafter.
McCain supporters booed and shouted things that were probably offensive, but I couldn't understand them. Palin looked teary-eyed, but still soulless.

Then Barack Obama accepted. Goosebumps raised on my skin. I don't always realize when I am witnessing something that history will remember. It's hard to tell right away when the world changes. This time I saw it fairly quickly, and that's a great feeling.

I took a picture of myself the next day. I had a stye in my eye, and I thought it looked gross.

Two days later, I got on a plane and moved to Virginia.
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I've only been here one full day. So far everyone's really nice to me.
My girlfriend owns a teashop called Darjeeling Cafe, and I can sit here and work and look at the ancient cemetery across the street and listen to the occasional bells from the churches. The Darjeeling Cafe is on West Beverly St., which is the main thoroughfare in Staunton.
Today there was a veterans' parade on West Beverly. Vehicles and people dressed in all sorts of military gear from different eras. Boyscouts and Girlscouts and Cubscouts and Brownies all marched in the parade, too.

There were bands and things like that. Patriotic songs.

There was also a veterans' MC.
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This new adventure. It's bound to be interesting. I am looking forward to seeing what this blog will turn into.