I've been meaning to write something condemning right-wing extremism for the past several months. Though I still haven't had a chance to formulate something well thought-out, I read this and this earlier today and could not let it sit any longer.
Both of those postings, combined with the atrocious recent hanging of a federal census employee in some backwater area of Kentucky, make me feel sick. I do not understand how any rational person could identify with what is currently touted as mainstream conservatism. It has taken a dangerously radical tone, under the false guise of patriotic populism.
I do not dispute the fact that there are loony segments of the left as well. Despite agreeing with some of his views, I look down on Michael Moore as a mostly obnoxious rabble rouser. And being accosted by a screaming woman from Greenpeace in a whale costume in Chinatown was nearly enough to turn me off to environmentalism for awhile. But the difference is, what most of these people propagate is at least somewhat based in truth. Lack of gun control does facilitate (if not necessarily cause) violence in schools and climate change is certainly a pressing issue. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the current "tea party" conservative culture.
The vitriolic healthcare debate of the past few months has been utterly Palinesque. This is incredibly unfortunate, because I feel that there are some important substantive arguments against the plans favored by progressive Democrats. None of them, however, should involve the words "socialism" and "Nazism" (which are not even remotely the same thing and, in any event, have nothing to do with a debate about healthcare).
Like Palin's farcical campaign last fall, the loudest opposition to healthcare reform has been focused on drumming up mass anger and inspiring people to rail against Obama without knowing what they are arguing about. Although manipulative, Rovian Republican strategists would have these idiots believe differently, the debate over healthcare reform is not about a "government takeover." A single payer system has never even been on the table. But all that the people at these town halls and rallies seem capable of doing is parroting back the lies and zingers that they picked up from watching Sean Hannity. Being duped by scare tactics is not a reasonable substitute for formulating a well-informed opinion.
This doesn't even address the fact that it is stupid to oppose healthcare reform completely - medical care in this country is expensive and the system sucks. If people disagree with the shape of reform, then they should proactively suggest alternative fixes. But Fox News has convinced half the country that it is more productive to yell than to try to actually solve this burgeoning social and economic problem.
What is really worrisome is when the scope of this misdirected anger expands to encompass everything that the government or, more specifically, Barack Obama does. Some of the rhetoric on the extreme right is absolutely chilling. This differs from liberal opposition to Bush because, in many cases, Democrats were telling the truth. Liberals whined about Bush's record on human rights because he was, unequivocally, suspending due process and torturing prisoners. They complained when he fabricated a reason to go to war in Iraq because Saddam Hussein was, in reality, not harboring any weapons of mass destruction.
All Barack Obama has done to draw such potent ire is try to deliver on one of his most pivotal campaign promises - to reform the nation's healthcare system. Asking Congress to pass a bill to this effect does not, in any way, make him comparable to Adolf Hitler. This laughable comparison offends my rational and historical sensibilities, but it also terrifies me. There is far too much venom flying around right now. God forbid any wingnut should choose to act on the violent extremism promoted by the rhetoric of his or her party. The current lack of civility is truly frightening.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
We slept in a carriage house
After getting bogged down for hours in traffic near Washington, PA and trekking across most of Ohio, my college friends and I reached Piqua, (former?) home of Alex. I was moved to share this photo by one of her recent postings, which I liked a lot. In it, she questions the meaning of "home," particularly as it relates to the town where she grew up. It's amusing how my connotation of Piqua (little, cute, warmly colored) is so much simpler (and decidedly more positive) than Alex's nuanced take. But I suppose that just illustrates the difference between spending a long weekend and an entire childhood in a small, Midwestern town.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Whispers in the hallway
I originally intended to title this posting “Never forget,” because I strongly believe in the importance of embracing history and drawing on it to make sense of current events. But I could not get past the connotation of that phrase, co-opted as it has seemingly been by xenophobic war-mongers. Instead I chose to reflect on a personal memory of that day, eight years ago.
Walking between second and third periods, I passed a guy named Jake on the stairs. Jake was the type of person who would say anything for attention, so when leaned towards me, shouting “They bombed us! The Pentagon and the twin towers,” I was understandably skeptical. Shaking my head ruefully, I distinctly remember thinking “God help anyone who would try to bomb the Pentagon.” Convinced that Jake was an idiot, I kept walking to class.
But as I made my away across the school to the remote first floor orange hallway, where Mr. Leveille’s class met, I began to notice something different. It’s difficult to articulate what exactly caught my attention. Maybe it was the passing glimpse of students, huddled around the TV in a classroom. Or maybe it was snippets of overheard conversations, echoing in the quiet hallways. Concrete reasons aside, by the time I strolled into 4th period Foundations of Programming, I knew that something seemed very off.
Idly chatting with my fellow classmates about this, a girl named Ashley thought something was wrong too. We approached our teacher and asked him if we could turn on the TV, because that we thought that “something might have happened.” Though a little confused, he shrugged and flicked it on, agreeing to let us watch until the bell rang. I will never, ever forget his reaction as he stared numbly at the screen.
We sat glued to the TV for the entire period. Watched, dumbfounded, as the second (north?) tower crumbled to the ground. At one point Mr. Leveille, who at the time couldn’t have been much older than I am now, muted the sound and struggled to find something appropriate to say to us. In retrospect, I cannot imagine how impossibly difficult this must have been, to be tasked with trying to teach at this moment; to make sense out of something utterly senseless. Taking a deep breath, he told us something like, “We’re going to turn the sound back on and watch this for the rest of the day. This is something that, for now, is far more important than Foundations of Programming. What happened today is probably going to change the rest of our lives and we need to pay attention to it.”
As a 16 year old high school student, I had no capacity to understand just how true this was. September 11 fundamentally altered the Bush administration, to say nothing of the overarching course of world history. Indeed, without 9/11 we’d have had no Afghanistan, no Iraq, no secret CIA torture prisons, no Patriot Act, and maybe no Barack Obama.
Many have used this anniversary to reflect on the far-reaching consequences of the terrorist attacks. But what I find most striking is their impact on an individual level. If I can recount, in such vivid, flashbulb moment detail, my memories of that bright, sunny morning, I’m sure that every other American can too. Much attention is paid to the heartbreak of those who lost loved ones in the attacks, or to the two wars that form part of that day’s brutal legacy. And rightfully so. But September 11th impacted everyone, if, for no other reason, because each of us can remember exactly what we were doing when we heard. Wouldn’t that make a moving collection of short essays – a broad selection of simple memories?
In this way, beyond its obviously visible impact on politics and war and many family’s lives, 9/11 imprinted itself on our national consciousness. We will never forget. Not because we have been given a mandate to tear apart our nation and the Middle East in search of extremists. But rather because we cannot, and should not, lose sight of the most formative and meaningful moments of our lives.
Walking between second and third periods, I passed a guy named Jake on the stairs. Jake was the type of person who would say anything for attention, so when leaned towards me, shouting “They bombed us! The Pentagon and the twin towers,” I was understandably skeptical. Shaking my head ruefully, I distinctly remember thinking “God help anyone who would try to bomb the Pentagon.” Convinced that Jake was an idiot, I kept walking to class.
But as I made my away across the school to the remote first floor orange hallway, where Mr. Leveille’s class met, I began to notice something different. It’s difficult to articulate what exactly caught my attention. Maybe it was the passing glimpse of students, huddled around the TV in a classroom. Or maybe it was snippets of overheard conversations, echoing in the quiet hallways. Concrete reasons aside, by the time I strolled into 4th period Foundations of Programming, I knew that something seemed very off.
Idly chatting with my fellow classmates about this, a girl named Ashley thought something was wrong too. We approached our teacher and asked him if we could turn on the TV, because that we thought that “something might have happened.” Though a little confused, he shrugged and flicked it on, agreeing to let us watch until the bell rang. I will never, ever forget his reaction as he stared numbly at the screen.
We sat glued to the TV for the entire period. Watched, dumbfounded, as the second (north?) tower crumbled to the ground. At one point Mr. Leveille, who at the time couldn’t have been much older than I am now, muted the sound and struggled to find something appropriate to say to us. In retrospect, I cannot imagine how impossibly difficult this must have been, to be tasked with trying to teach at this moment; to make sense out of something utterly senseless. Taking a deep breath, he told us something like, “We’re going to turn the sound back on and watch this for the rest of the day. This is something that, for now, is far more important than Foundations of Programming. What happened today is probably going to change the rest of our lives and we need to pay attention to it.”
As a 16 year old high school student, I had no capacity to understand just how true this was. September 11 fundamentally altered the Bush administration, to say nothing of the overarching course of world history. Indeed, without 9/11 we’d have had no Afghanistan, no Iraq, no secret CIA torture prisons, no Patriot Act, and maybe no Barack Obama.
Many have used this anniversary to reflect on the far-reaching consequences of the terrorist attacks. But what I find most striking is their impact on an individual level. If I can recount, in such vivid, flashbulb moment detail, my memories of that bright, sunny morning, I’m sure that every other American can too. Much attention is paid to the heartbreak of those who lost loved ones in the attacks, or to the two wars that form part of that day’s brutal legacy. And rightfully so. But September 11th impacted everyone, if, for no other reason, because each of us can remember exactly what we were doing when we heard. Wouldn’t that make a moving collection of short essays – a broad selection of simple memories?
In this way, beyond its obviously visible impact on politics and war and many family’s lives, 9/11 imprinted itself on our national consciousness. We will never forget. Not because we have been given a mandate to tear apart our nation and the Middle East in search of extremists. But rather because we cannot, and should not, lose sight of the most formative and meaningful moments of our lives.
Monday, September 7, 2009
No substitute for naan
Judging by the number of cookbooks I got for Christmas last year (three), I think it's safe to say that people think I like cooking. Whenever someone says this, I generally try to deflect attention by saying something along the lines of, "Well, I really love eating, and I don't live at home anymore, so I kind of have to fix my own food." Which is true, but I think I also enjoy the process more than I tend to let on. Weeknights are tough, because we rarely have fresh ingredients on hand and it's hard to make a delicious meal and eat at a decent hour when you don't get home until 6:30 (or later).
But given the luxury of an otherwise lazy weekend afternoon, I get a lot of pleasure out of taking the effort to fix something more involved than, say, pasta. Tackling a challenging meal helps make improve my overall cooking skills and also creates the opportunity for cooking with friends. It's really, really enjoyable to crack open a beer, chop some onions, and chat with a good friend. As I get older, and further removed from the college lifestyle, I'm convinced that it's important to make a more concerted effort to stay in touch with the people you care about. Happy hours and nights out remain a big part of this, but group cooking can play a part too.
Alex, Joe, and I got together last night and hung out in the kitchen for awhile. The payoff of about four hours of cooking: a delicious, multi-course Indian feast. Some lessons learned: start earlier in the afternoon so we're not eating at 10 pm again and whole wheat pitas are certainly not comparable to naan. On deck: Middle Eastern or Mexican? Either will be excellent. Feel free to join.
But given the luxury of an otherwise lazy weekend afternoon, I get a lot of pleasure out of taking the effort to fix something more involved than, say, pasta. Tackling a challenging meal helps make improve my overall cooking skills and also creates the opportunity for cooking with friends. It's really, really enjoyable to crack open a beer, chop some onions, and chat with a good friend. As I get older, and further removed from the college lifestyle, I'm convinced that it's important to make a more concerted effort to stay in touch with the people you care about. Happy hours and nights out remain a big part of this, but group cooking can play a part too.
Alex, Joe, and I got together last night and hung out in the kitchen for awhile. The payoff of about four hours of cooking: a delicious, multi-course Indian feast. Some lessons learned: start earlier in the afternoon so we're not eating at 10 pm again and whole wheat pitas are certainly not comparable to naan. On deck: Middle Eastern or Mexican? Either will be excellent. Feel free to join.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I always hate cyclists
A friend at work forwarded me a list of "random thoughts of our generation." Though the primary purpose of the list was humor, I found it interesting that I agreed with so many of them. I don't know if these observations are all specifically applicable to my generation or if they speak to human nature in general. But a lot of them are kind of astute. Some examples:
- Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
Yes, agreed. This makes me uncomfortable and forces me to decide what I value more at that moment in time: extracting a shallow rhetorical victory by pretending to know what I'm talking about or rolling over and admitting defeat. One guess as to which of these impulses typically wins out. - Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the f was going on when I first saw it.
This happens to me all the time. - There is a great need for sarcasm font.
I have always thought this, particularly because I am kind of sarcastic and always afraid that when I type the exact opposite of what I mean, people will take me seriously. - I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
- Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot.
When giving out my email address for work, I think I've resorted to "L, as in... lollipop." - I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
Even if this isn't true, it feels that way sometimes. And whenever someone asks "how are you?" in the morning (or any time), one of my fall back responses is "I'm alright... tired, though." - You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.
- As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.
- It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.
- How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what someone said?
- Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out.
I never had Nintendo, but reading this kind of blew my mind. How did everyone know to do that? Word of mouth, I guess. It must rank up there with Homer's epics as one of the greatest oral traditions of all time.
Kind of amusing, I thought. There were others that dealt with wanting an "avoid ghetto" route option on google maps, loving napping more as a grown up than as a kid, and a well-deserved mocking of the band Nickelback.
September is here and the weather has been gorgeous all week (and will continue to be for the next several days at least). College football season starts this weekend. Labor Day (and accompanying day off and barbecues) falls on Monday. I went to the Orioles game yesterday with Sam and am now going to leave work and go outside into the warm, humidity-free sunshine. All is good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)