Confessions of a Starving Artist

Mad I call it; for, to define true madness / What is’t but to be else but Mad?  ~ Lord Polonius, Act II, Scene II Hamlet

I think that I’m about ready to call it quits on the whole amateur sports pundit gig.  It would seem that I am completely incapable of making any sort of prediction that has even the slightest margin of hopeful gain.  The only thing that keeps me in this aggravating leisure pursuit is that arguably neither is anyone else.  Perhaps it is the uncertain economy that keeps this whole topsy-turvy NCAA Men’s Basketball season completely unable to find any sure footing, but whatever the reason, one thing is for certain: I have zero idea who is going to be in the Championship game come the first part of April.  In short, I just don’t know.

I don’t think that it’s going to be about the seeds.  Okay, it’s going to be about the seeds a little.  Not like it was last year, however.  Last year, we basically knew as far back as November who was going to be our Final Four teams, and voila! here comes, for the first time in NCAA history, all four number 1 seeds making  it to the Final Four.  While some of the games were kinda cool, overall it wasn’t terribly thrilling.  It was actually more like some sort of Roman spectacle in The Coliseum.  Look kids, do you think that the dogs will kill the giant mammoth tiger?… guess not.

This year the mammoth tiger is back.  The Memphis Tigers have clawed all the way back into disputation as the last of the surprise contenders after starting the season as number 5 in the nation, then dropping out of the Top 25 at open point, and now re-aloft the stack as the recently crowned Number 3 seed in today’s ESPN Poll.  But if you think that Memphis is some sort of shock-story, you’d have to have just tuned in your local sports network because while they are likely the most turbulent team out there, The Tigers aren’t all that out of the norm.

After Week 7 when a mediocre Boston College dismantled the University of North Carolina, a team that many had herald as “unbeatable”, there was seemingly a new Number 1 every week up until, well, now.  I can’t say that their aren’t favorites, but what I can offer is that every one of them has proven to be beatable by teams that are relative nobodies.  The key word there is relative.  And fairly, nobody in the Top 25 is a nobody this year.  You can go down the list, nearly into teams that aren’t ranked, and find some sort of surprising win somewhere in their season, just as with each likely favorite you can find an equally surprising loss.  What the guys on ESPNews and Sports Center are saying about all this is absolutely true: the NCAA Tournament Committee is going to definitely have a hard time picking the 64 teams who are going to The Dance this year because there are so many good teams… good, but not great.  What I haven’t heard anyone saying is that just as important as who is going to The Dance is going to be who your dancing with; that is to say, the match-ups in the brackets.

Start with this line of questioning; who are going to be the four number 1 seeds?  The correct answer is, I don’t know.  Right now, there are ten teams who have valid reasons to be a number 1 (UConn, UNC, Memphis, OU, Wake, MSU, Pitt, KU, Louisville, and Duke), but moreover there are ten more teams right behind them that all deserve to be number 2 or 3 seeds, each with the ability to hand anyone of those potential 1 seeds their lungs on the court (Clemson, XU, LSU, Washington, Marquette, Nova, Mizzou, Perdue, and UCLA). 

So second question; who do you want your number 1 seed to match up with?  Again, the correct answer is, I don’t know.  Take the triangle case of UNC, UConn, and OU.  In this humble man’s opinion, logic is defied by the match-up.  For example, UNC’s speed and raw offence can play ball with that of UConn giving them the edge in size and speed, and UConn’s guard defense and underscored size in the low post can fold down on the singularity of Blake Griffin and one-dimensional bullying Sooners.  However, I give the edge back to OU if they were to see UNC in the Elite Eight for two reasons; UNC’s Tyler Hansborough is just not only going to have a hard time matching up well with Blake Griffen, but also the Tar Heels play a run-and-gun fast break offense, which OU can stop in a way that UConn will have a hard time containing.  See?  It’s a vicious circle…

Third question, and it might be a rhetorical one; what are the chances of a 1 seed and a 2 seed making to the Elite Eight without upset?  If you mumbled, I don’t know, then you would be correct yet again.  Just like the example above, every favorite has a chink of inconsistency in their armor and every little fish in the sea is a piranha this year.  The likelihood of seeing anything close to last year’s all number 1 seed Final Four is slim.  You’re far more likely to see a Final Four this year with no number 1 seeds.

Is that going to make the brackets fun this year?  I one thing that I do know is that, yes, it will.  But I will expect a certain loss of caliber from the individual players come the Final Four.  If the brackets become flooded in upsets, which they likely will, then we’ll see one of two things: either a sub-par Finals should we find ourselves in an underdog’s championship with no real powerhouses present, or we get one, perhaps two, real heavy weights in the ring and it turns into a thirty-point spread blood-bath come crunch time.

Therefore my advice to you all is to take some sick days and head to the sports bars this weekend my friends.  With the amount of guaranteed grudge-matches coming up (Duke v. UNC, Pitt v. UConn, OU v. Mizzou, Clemson v. Wake, MSU v. Purdue, Marquette v. Syracuse) there is a really good percentile that says that this is your last chance to see Final Four level play this season.   

Go Xavier!  Beat Dayton!

I won’t predict anything historic.  But nothing is impossible.  ~ Michael Phelps

I spent last night reading George Orwell’s treatise Why I Write over a grande mocha coffee and an eclectic, shoe-boxed set of mid-90s alternative and pop rock.  Only a hundred or so pages long, Orwell has thus far dissected the English as somewhat of an exception to the European rule of societies and cultural norms, lashing the English as bullheaded and somewhat dull, yet independent and loyal to the isles.  Further, he goes into the faults of capitalism as a insecure system of government when faced with others more galvanized to a certain end state such as those of socialism and fascism, the two main opponents to the British way of life in the 1930s.  To a quick surmise, Orwell states that the purpose of capitalism is to maintain the status quo in order to insure that wealth continues to be promoted.  Regardless of the fact that greed inspires industry and innovation in a capitalist model, it’s greatest downfall springs from the same driving force.  Greed, in turn, will also push the industry and innovation to do not what is in the best interest of the State, in spite of of whether or not they realize that it is the State that allows them to subsist, but rather to do what is most profitable.  Only competition among governments and competing forms of State (such as The Cold War or WWII) will allow a capitalist government and society to remain bristled, defensive, and thus, patriotic.

Which could lead us to explain the rather down-trodden case of Michael Phelps.  To be fair, I have only been half-heartedly following this small blip on my morning Sports Center headlines.  I think that it deserves as much attention as the whole “he said / she said” nonsense surrounding the steroids usage in certain baseball situations… because quite frankly, it’s a bummer.  The deflating aspect of these stories is certainly one that major sports news networks have to understand.  Nearly all sports fanatics live for the rousing adrenaline rush of the down-to-the-wire game, the bottom of the ninth grand slam, the fourth quarter Hail Mary pass.  Because of this, fans revel in the victory, sometimes for entire off-seasons, toasting their favorite athletic heroes all the way to spring training.  To show such heroes in chains, being lead from a courtroom, in front of a grand jury, or simply in a manner that is unbecoming of someone who’s gifted athletic ability is an inspiration to so many; well, to put such a thing in front of a fan is about as much of a buzz kill as seeing blue lights flashing in your rear view on the way home from watching the big game at the sports bar on a Sunday night.

I would agree that from time to time it is necessary to throw a player to the dogs… no pun intended Mr. Vick.  However, in the case of Michael Phelps it is not one of those times.  Which is why I was shocked and offended to learn that authorities in our country are trying to see if they can mount a case against Michael Phelps based on pictures that surfaced recently with Phelps in the middle of what appears to be a rather large bong hit. 

This whole thing is an utter outrage.  Michael Phelps is an American hero.  He’s not some sort of over-paid designated hitter or brain-addled pugilist with anger management issues; he is an Olympian, which means that he was not paid a dime to go win more Gold Medals for this country than any other single athlete in history.  Also, he didn’t play Detroit or LA or New England… this motherfucker played against the entire fucking world!  And it wasn’t a best of seven series either.  No, it was a winner-take-all one-time deal.  This man is an icon to the world and a shining beacon of American athletics.

So it should be noted first that it was a British newspaper who first published the story.  And like anything sensational, once it’s out, it’s out.  So it was covered, ever so delicately, something that only the sports world could do as they are seemingly the only news source with a level of journalistic integrity left on the planet… at least at first.  International sponsors laughed at the situation.  One Swiss sponsor of Phelps called it, “a personal matter… we don’t see what the big deal is,” and did nothing to the champion swimmer.  Speedo, Phelps’s largest sponsor and also European-based, said something similar, and went on to say that they were “proud” to continue to sponsor Phelps and have him as a member of Team Speedo.  With that, the rest of us laughed the whole matter off as a passing fancy.

But unfortunately, it doesn’t end there.  It then came down that Phelps was banned from swimming competitively for one month.  This was the first level of absurdity for me; first that there was actually a national swimming league in the first place and second, the punishment that was meted out.  I could see if he was shooting up performance enhancing drugs that may have given him a competitive edge, but marijuana?  Still, rules are rules, I guess, and if you break them, then I suppose there is some level of obligation to enforce them.  A month is a slap on the wrist, in any sport, regardless, so why bother with it.  I say just fine the guy, and move on.  Look at is as a sort of a misdemeanor in the sporting world.  But nope, we’re not done yet… Soon after that it seems that local authorities have gotten wind of a similar stance on the photo, are now grinding down an ax to see what they can scalp off from this American legend in the name of Justice.

I haven’t really been following this story for nearly a week, so if I’m missing something, I’m sure someone will let me know.  The thoughts surrounding this keep rolling in my mind.  How can something like this be actually happening to someone like Michael Phelps?  If you look at the sort of people who he is now in camp with, he looks like the Boy Scout who finds himself wrongly in a maximum security lock-up trying to maintain his fruit cocktail in the cafeteria.  I know that there are no exceptions to the Law, and if there were it ceases to remain functional… but isn’t there something to all that?

George Clinton was on NPR this morning discussing this and that, but one thing that he mentioned is that the government finds it more profitable to keep marijuana illegal than it would be to legalize it and sell it.  It then occurred to me that despite outcries from our own people, despite the multiple studies on the health effects of marijuana verses cigarettes, and despite an entire European continent who seems to have a more robust economy than our own despite legalized weed; we as a nation, nay, as a State, still choose to do what is profitable over what is perhaps morally correct.  I’m not saying that smoking weed is moral.  What I am saying is that locking up a prized Olympic legend as well as hundreds of thousand men and women of this country from the lower class while the upper class drug usage gets turned a blind eye is not only immoral but also unjust and corrupt… though nonetheless profitable.

Perhaps Orwell has a point.  Most interesting of all is that Orwell points out that it was the decadence and rooted philosophy of this that caused England to so nearly fall to Hitler in World War II, had it not been for American intervention, notably on the heels of our own Great Depression.  The question I wonder is if we are unable to save our own international symbols of excellence because of Laws rooted in profit, who will intervene for us when the next Reich comes?

Intercourse with a woman is sometimes a satisfactory substitution for masturbation.  But it takes a lot of imagination to make it work.  ~ Karl Klaus

Somewhat amusing, amongst a rousing bout of sexual innuendos and possible harassment between myself, the personal training bubbas, and smoothie staff at my local gym the conversational topic of sexual addiction was broached yesterday evening.  Whoever the latest celebrity to admit themselves into rehabilitation toward what I can only sarcastically say must be an addiction with only the most dire consequences, I must concede that I had to stop and take stock of a disease which most certainly could not be.  After all, let us look at what someone who says as much is actually saying about them self.  A supposed sex addict is claiming that he is addicted to sex, yes?  If so, how is that different than every other red-blooded male that you or I know?  We are all rather addicted to it, if you’ll pardon a rather low-brow pun.  Most of us look for the proverbial nookie from our earliest memories and will continue to stalk that elusive perfect piece of ass until our crippled, hobbling, senile, shitting-the-bed final days.  In that context, how does a ‘sex addict’ differ from the rest of us?  I offered, as an answer to the group, that maybe he just has the natural ability to have sex multiple times every day and as well has the, ahem, ‘outlet’ for his addiction.  Then it would become a matter of nutrition and health, and I could see the need for some form of intervention, but still… that’s a boon of a burden to my way of thinking.

 The chief of the smoothie staff offered up another solid observation.  Perhaps this addiction was more tailored towards something more mental than physical.  Certainly, the idea of a man in his mid-forties being able to have that much sex every day, all day without the aid of chemical augmentation (and perhaps an addiction to male enhancement drugs as well) did seem a bit of a stretch, but what if the gentleman was simply addicted to the idea of sex, the inability to think of anything else because it was surrounding him at all times.  For example some symptoms of this could be the constant watching of pornography or aggressive flirting with many random women, both strangers and known acquaintances, whether welcomed or not?  Perhaps even a loss of the emotion that is inherent within sex itself, leading to a mental state toward sex that could be unsafe; something akin to a murder’s lack or even reversal of the  natural emotional connection to inflicting pain on another human being. 

I thought about that aspect of it, and agreed that would indeed be tragic… and further, wholly possible.  Generation Xers have been bombarded with sexuality in nearly everything we do since our ability to turn the television station from PBS and watch something other than The Electric Company.  Ironically, even Keisha Knight Pulliam who played Rudy Huckstable on The Cosby Show has actually become extremely sexual, posing for several adult magazines within the past few years (and looking amazing, I might add) as well as taking more mature acting roles within her career.  As for Generation Y?  Well, I have been disturbed to discover that it has become extremely vogue for young high school girls across the nation to start taking nude and seductive photo shoots of themselves and their female friends only to then post or circulating them in public forums.  I would like to say that one can only take this as fall-out from the magnificent role-models that have been  placed in the forefront of media and entertainment, but it’s worse than that, I think; it is the corporate greed and leadership of the very magazines themselves we have to blame, not the 19 year old, clueless and often talentless bimbos who pose on the cover of Maxim or FHM after a single season of whatever prime time reality show is crushing down the ratings this week.  And if we want to get even more self-critical, we could also fault ourselves for buying the needless trash.  After all, isn’t there enough porn on the internet to satisfy our collective lust… or maybe we are all on the path to sexual addiction.

Ironically, it would seem that the porn industry is the least able to be diagnosed as the root cause at this addiction’s source.   At worst, it might be seen as a gateway drug of sorts, but when it comes right down to it, porn is more like the cigarettes of sex.  The warnings are clear and distinct, and for the most part, everybody knows what they are buying when they buy it, which in both cases you have to be 18 or older to do.  Moreover, there is no misappropriations of desire and misunderstanding of those people whom you so vividly voyeuring: they are a porn star, cut and dry…  and the funny thing is that if you, as an average joe, were to see a porn star on the street and speak to them, I’d be willing to bet you’d would be more courteous that flirtatious simply due to the fact that sexuality is the woman’s very profession and therefore courtesy itself then becomes a manner of flirtation, which is how it once was with all respectful interactions with all women in our society.  And nonetheless, while nearly every man in America would love to sleep with a porn star, if only to check the block, most would not be so presumptuous as to hit on her… okay maybe they would, but the idea would be shot down mentally for most of us when we’d have to consider the thought of trying to please a porn star with our amateur sex resumes and an average-sized weenie.

Meanwhile, same average joe meets the woman who was posing all sexy-like on the cover of the latest issue of Maxim on the same street.  He is far more likely to be flirtatious than courteous to this woman, which while the first few times this may be flattering to the woman, it will eventually become not only an annoyance to the woman, but also a mystery as to why all men are ‘just trying to get in my pants’ when she is obviously a talented actress, singer, politician, what have you.  The reason for this juxtaposition is that men see this latter example is a woman who is so in need of sex that she is screaming and begging for it in a public forum, something the average joe is only too happy to help her cope with, while in the former case of the porn star, while we understand them to be cock-gobbling, sex daemons, men also perceive them to be quiet satisfied women.

The point is too many people are trying to be ‘sexy’ without really having an understanding of what it is, and it is this misunderstanding that is confusing to us, the males at large.  Know this ladies: we as men are already somewhat sex addicts.  The vast majority of us thinks about sex several times a day and must keep our pipes clean and serviced right around once every day or two at a minimum… personally speaking, some even moreso.  Therefore ladies, understand what the porn stars already do – if you publically become a sex symbol then when people see you then you will be considered nothing more than the sex you put forth publically.  Also lesson learned, men will fuck anything as long you say that we can.  So young ladies, don’t throw away your dignity and self-respect because you think that photos of your in a compromising position makes you more a woman or more desirable to a man.  Simply being a woman makes you desirable to us.  And while some scandalous photos may get you more attention, you’re actually becoming less of a person and more of an objective.  And while I would agree that you can’t be addicted to sex or porn or even your favorite flavor of lube, I could be pushed to agree that a person can become consumed with an object.    

The King is dead!  Long live the King!  ~ Anon

Aside from nearly four inches of freshly fallen snow covering my sleepy military hamlet, it would seem that nearly nothing has changed.  The immediate concern for me and my colleagues would be getting to work without getting rear-ended by some Carolinian who does not know how to drive in winter conditions, not the current economic recession that we as a nation find ourselves in or some far off war in Gaza… after all, we have our own wartime troubles to contend with.  Therefore, it is not surprising that while we all regrouped together after a long and hearty MLK weekend the talk was of Sports Center highlights, recent movie reviews, and the general consistency of some of my home-made banana bread which I brought into work for the guys; not the Inauguration of President Barrack Obama.    

Unfortunately, when I woke up on Tuesday to find that I was more-or-less snowed into my tiny home, I set about to do some light paperwork and play video games for the majority of the day.  It wasn’t until I poked my head out from my cave sometime around four in the afternoon that I realized that grand and historical event in
Washington DC was nearly at a conclusion.  I was a bit remiss, to be quiet fair, because while I really don’t think that I would have been glued to the TV set as if I was watching the latest Jerry Bruckheimer film, I do think that I would have been conscious enough to realize that the scene that was unfolding in front of my eyes was history in the making. 

The constant barrage of media sound bites and video clips has shown me what I have missed as well as 48 straight hours of NPR focusing on the topic to the exclusion of the rest of the civilized world.  And while I believe that I understood the historical context of what was being played out before me, I do not think that I have yet fully grasped what this means in a more contemporary stand point.  True, we have elected our first African American President, which is somewhat of a culmination of the civil rights movement in this country, but what despite this, and as cliché as it may sound, there is such a manifestation of hope that it is hard to ignore. 

As I inferred above, military personnel live a world that is very different than the majority of Americans, a standpoint that many of us can misplace from time to time.  The way of life under the Bush Administration was one of status quo; there was a job to do, and the morality and ethics of the situation was more within the mission rather than the mission itself.  Healthcare, a recessive economy, these issues do not effect our world.  Our world is life or death, security and survival, more so now as ever in the past eight years.  The hope of the world does not rest within my installation, only anticipation and marked concern of the upcoming strategies of the new administration who finds themselves in command of War on Terror and thus Iraq and Afghan theaters.

This is the immediate impressions for us.  And while certainly the hope of a nation is the more prevailing emotion overall, I still feel as though we as a country are shy and short from the overall scheme of what is happening.  Granted, Americans are back en vogue with the Europeans as we take on more of that NATO-friendly team player appearance.  The effect is even more pronounced in the Third World as once again America immerges as a symbol of ‘look what we can do to change ourselves – so can you!’.  Peoples’ of small hopeless countries have faith in Democracy again, even if it is just in principal.  That alone in these strange times is worth its weight in social currency. 

Even as these new days dawn, the Devil’s Advocate in me has to remind people, despite their collective moments of sunshine, that hope is a four letter word.  Perhaps that is a bit too much to just leap out with, so I’ll refine that statement; hope is a vessel for potential… and you know what Charles Bukowski said about potential?  “…it don’t mean shit, you’ve got to do it.”  Of itself, therein is the crux of the next six months.  I have no doubt that the new President is going to hit the ground running so fast that he’s going to make the previous Administration’s work load looking like kindergarten half-days.  But now, the real Barrack Obama will begin to take shape, not simply a nebulas form of hope.  What shape will form?  Who can truly say just yet?  For example, we all understood that President Obama would do something drastic with the prisoner situation at Guantanamo Bay.  Now that he’s begun, some of his supporters don’t necessarily agree with how he’s handling the clean up… or his choices for cabinet seats… or who gave the Inaugural Prayer… etc, etc, etc. 

This is the name of the game, kids; and it’s Politics.  While he held his hand close during an epic nearly two year campaign, the new President now has more crap to deal with on his plate than any in recent history.  I never bought into the whole hope thing, but rather understood it to be only potential some six or seven months ago and took it as such considering that he likely had a plan for much of this, but didn’t need to tell us the details just yet.  I decided that the potential for change was better than the alternative, which seemed like no potential for change.  I therefore understand that we also have the potential to set some iconic standards as a nation that may echo on for the next fifty years, decision our children may have to live with.  All we can do now… is hope that they are the good ones. 

If the enemy is to be coerced, you must put him in a situation that is even more unpleasant than the sacrifice that you would call on him to make.  The hardships of the situation must not be merely transient – at least not in appearance.  Otherwise, the enemy would not give in, but would wait for things to improve.  ~ Karl von Clausewitz

Well finally, there is a war in the Middle East that we aren’t directly a part of.  Now there’s a historical American narrative that makes you long for the days of Scooby-Doo and Dan Rather on the Evening News, if you ask me.  People of one ethnic creed start pounding away at another ethnic creed for some nonsensical reason that has roots that date back to The Old Testament for a little while, then stop, presumably for no other reason that too keep older wounds fresh.  And we, the ever vigilant champions of the oppressed and wronged, stand at the microphone upon the world’s stage and demand a stop to the violence in the name of humanity and democracy.  Ah well, at least we’re getting close to the old days…

The current conflict in the Gaza Strip may not seem like anything out of the ordinary to the average American given that the average American likely could no more easily tell you the source of the conflict between the Palestinians and the Israelis than they could point out to you the location of capital city of Canada on a map… or be able to name it for that matter, (It’s Ottawa, by the way…) but so it goes.  The point is that regardless of what is going on within the framework of the Israeli’s Defense Forces, the majority of Americans simply look at it as another day Tel Aviv (that’s that in Israel guys…)

The actions of Israel really are a study in scarlet, if you take the time to think of them outside of their context and consider their implications if applied in other parts of what might be called The Free World.  If you haven’t noticed, this is a bit of a pastime for me, as this is the fourth blog of its name in the last two and a half years.  Foremost, what I find somewhat  ironic is the mere lip service Israel pays to The United Nations considering that the birth of Israel was, in all fairness, possibly the most iconic thing that non-governing body ever did.  Israel has since rather become the uncontrollable bastard child of the UN, who seemingly loves to push boundaries, try the patience, and even break the laws laid down by its parent body. 

So far, Israel’s 37 Day War with Lebanon was my favorite talking point about the hypocrisy / justice of the Israeli people, where a war was started over a simple case of kidnapping.  In an older world, this might seem justified, possibly even normal; but in our time, a time spawned from post-Cold War paranoia of the fallout military might; shelling country for near six weeks over something as micro-feasible as capturing a Soldier in a ‘time of peace’ may seem a bit excessive if not down-right illegitimate.  Important to note that these are perceptions that we hold as a somewhat global society, and are certainly fair to be considered a bit ‘new wave’ within the historical parameters of things.  Nonetheless, the recent ground assault and occupation of Gaza raises an entirely new series of observations of near duplicity that, as always, I will attempt to relate to an American world at large. 

The first level of irony, and perhaps the most fundamental, is the actions of the Israelis at this current time are not too terribly different that those that were visited upon the Jewish people some 70 years ago.  Before I go on, I’ll dispense a quick history lesson for those you who don’t know that much about Israel, Palestine, and the general malaise of that region for the past century or so.  Originally (and I use that term loosely) the area that is now Israel was controlled by the Ottoman Empire, and while the Ottoman Empire did not recognize exact boarders in a  manner that you or I would today, the general region upon which we are discussing was called Palestine and thus  controlled by the Palestinian people.  Then, after World War I, the Ottoman Empire was dismantled by the British and carved into exact colonies as spoils of war (Fun Fact: this is where Iraq came from as well, kiddies!).  While still occupying the majority of Palestine with troops and governing bodies, the British began populating the area with Jewish settlers and further began making political waves about establishing the region as homeland for the Jewish people, that is, Israel.  With the Palestinians in direct and often violent protest, this continued until World War II, whereas at its completion and the following formation of The League of Nations (later the United Nations), the State of Israel was formed in actuality with the full backing and support, most notably militarily, of The League.  Their original violent protests during the British occupation were now met with violent reprisals from the newly formed Israeli government, marking the brutal treatment of Palestinian civilians by Israel’s military.  The Palestinians were all but ignored politically and eventually marginalized into small areas of land, such as The Gaza Strip and The West Bank. 

Jump ahead to today and returning to our first level of irony: isn’t it funny that a country that was born as a result of the near holocaust and subsequent genocide of its ethnic people by a country that perceived them as interlopers should see similar actions as just and correct way to deal with its historical enemies whom they also consider unwanted?

Secondly, consider The Free World’s reworking of current military doctrine and dogma based on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as other smaller conflicts in the Global War on Terror.  True, the ol’ US of A leads the way in most of these ‘reforms’, but it’s safe to say that other members of the NATO triage team are seeing the ‘apparent’ usefulness of it.  Now consider Israel’s utter apathy toward it.  While the rest of the world is looking to write the next page in COL John Nagl’s Learning To Eat Soup With A Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, Israel is brushing up on a little von Clausewitz theory.  …and what we as a world should ask ourselves is this:  Is there anything wrong with that?

Apparently not.  The UN loses more and more creditability in the world community daily.  Following a harrowing finger wagging at Russia after the invasion of Georgia, the United Nations continues its inspiring display by issuing more demands with no ability or intention to follow them up whatsoever towards Israel.  Unfortunately, so is America.  As yester-year’s lap-dog to the United Nations, America has yet to unchain itself from unfettered Israeli backing as they are still one of our only Allies in the region… for now, anyway.  Still, at least we have tempered ourselves and our yammering to half-hearted speeches from Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice who calls for peace in the region, harking points and emotions more akin to the Miss America Pageant then global conflict resolution.  So why does Israel get to have all the fun, trooping around its respective geographical area when the rest of us have to play by the rules?

Great question and I don’t have a good answer for you.  One thing is for sure, it’s a new page out of the old play book.  Again and again, Israel is holding the host country / people accountable for the policing of its citizens when those citizens threaten the security of their people, and Israel does so in a manner than rather transcends words and cultures, I think.  Truly, it’s hard to not take some form of action as a people when bombs and bullets are perpetually raining about your head.  The Israeli government hopes that such action will manifest in the people’s will to stop the rather pointless and annoying habit of blowing up things in Israeli neighborhoods, and while there is always a chance that such an occupation would galvanize the Palestinians more towards Hamas, I would think that this is an outcome that is also acceptable toward the Israelis.  After all, so far, this conflict has only cost them the lives of 14 Soldiers.  Not bad, considering the damage they’ve wrought.  That being said, even through occupation, how does this pacify the Palestinians?  Again, I dunno.  But options really do open up for a country when they don’t have to listen to the rest of the world nagging at them.

Also, let’s examine the double standard.  America rolls into Iraq, and as we stick around to help rebuild the country, we get slammed with the term “occupying force”, and suddenly we are the bad guys.  Granted, some criticism was warranted; however, Israel is quickly looking to do the same thing.  Maybe it will work and maybe it won’t, but the point is that the fuss is minimal, especially considering Israel has no intentions of doing anything nice and constructive with the Palestinians at the end of this mess.  Moreso, the actions of the Israeli’s could be interpreted as indiscriminate, possibly even genocidal… which would certainly be an easy, although somewhat ironic and unethical solution to their problems.

Lastly, it is important to point out that while the Palestinians do ‘control’ Gaza, it is not an official country nor does it belong to Palestine (The West Bank).  Technically, it belonged to Egypt until the Arab-Israeli War of 1967 when Israel took possession of it.  However, remember that is that this whole fiasco was started when members of Hamas fired a small cascade of rockets into Israel a few weeks ago.  While a dumb move at first glance, the action becomes increasingly dim-witted when one remembers that this is the same country that unleashed a massive bombardment against neighboring country not too long ago because of a group that was working from within it.  The actions of Hamas become even more ludicrous when you consider their leaders within Gaza, who are in hiding for fear of death by air strike, have begun to state that they would be willing to enter into talks (that’s called surrender, folks, for those of you who’ve forgotten about warfare); only to be counter-voiced by their superiors in Syria who are still saber-rattling that Hamas will fight to the last man.  Does Damascus not realize who they are fucking with?  We’ll see…

New Year’s Day… is now the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving Hell with them as usual.  ~ Mark Twain

People who know me best would offer that I’m not someone with the most Christmas spirit.  I think that it only fits that I am most comfortable when the 25^th of December has finally come and gone.  I’ve tried just about every mental episode that I can creatively come up with in order to frolic in the Yule Tide festivities, but no matter how I try to light that light upon the highest bow, I only end up frustrated, disappointed, drunk, or some combination of all three.  Only recently have I come to understand that my utter lack of approval or judgment on the Christmas holiday has relinquished me of any sort of stress and strain.  Nonetheless, it is not until the proverbial morning after that I feel like I’m truly on vacation.  Something’s you just cannot shake no matter how hard you try.

So here we are in the waning days of 2008.  Some of my old political notions already seem trite and short-sighted as I listen to Bob Dylan’s Tell Tale Signs: Rare and Unreleased 1989-2006.  Still, a trickle of ye ole still emotion run though, and it’s that small stream that I try to wash my concepts within to see if they can still come out clean.  Doesn’t always work, and that’s okay with me.  You’ve got to tote your ideas as right almost to the point of lunacy if the are ever going to pass through what Jim Morrison may have called ‘The Other Side’.  If they don’t make it across a conversational Bataan Death March, well, those were the ones that just weren’t supposed to make it.  But the nice thing about parlor chemistry is that experiments that fail do not result necessarily in failure.  Revision, re-examination, return to innovation; we can hope that these are the fates of thoughts plucked and raised from salted dreamscapes and meditations.

The week after Christmas gets me ready for the New Year because it seems like a condensed version of the spiritual struggle of the year, which tends to get misplaced within busy schedules and boredoms, lookings forward and dwellings upon.  Come January we’ll make our plans and goals nested so comfortably within our resolutions, but nearly as quickly we’ll forget and chase down the next fifty meter life target and then the next and the next, until we are perhaps too far from our original intentions to continue without some form of revision.  Such is this fleeting week of this year.  This weekend we look boldly forth, seeing an apparent and endless sea of time to meet and greet, cheer and be merry, as well as construct those valuable minutes work that need to be done.  However, those post-holiday sweatpant afternoons and lazy mornings eat upon our fragile time so much so that we quickly loss track of what is going on around us, and before long, we are looking at what we can cut out in a meager attempt to sprint to the finish.

Unlike Christmas, I enjoy New Year’s Eve.  I think that it is much more in line with what I would call the spiritual portion of my life.  The weakness of man may lie in those sins outlined in The Bible or other testaments of faith, but I think that it can be far more surmised in the expression of indifference toward that which needs to be done with regards to individual convictions or whom or whatever the individual chooses to align themselves with.  Its far to grandiose to think that each and everyone of us will be able to make a sound and perfectly matched spiritual awareness out of relative thin air, so adhering to the words of institution is not only far more likely for people to hold to, but it is also far stable, comforting in numbers.  That being said, whatever your beliefs, its our collective indifference to them, toward accomplishing them, toward adhering to them, that mars our spirit.  Perhaps this makes the human Will the highest spiritual calling?  I may well set this thought upon a route through the desert.

Nonetheless, it’s our intentions, our adherences, which allow us this exercise of Will.  One seems fairly useless without the other.  I think then that our emplacement of resolutions at the end of the week are considerably worthwhile, even though they don’t really carry the added weight of direct spiritual dogma.  Rather, it’s more of a more concise exercise to set a benchmark for ourselves and achieve it.  No real ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ sort of scenario.  Just a check on what you can do… and if you can do it with what you want, then I suppose its all a matter of what you really want.

My resolutions are fairly small scale but self-improving.  Most are on the docket anyway, but I think it will be worthwhile to put them down in this time and space to create some form of visual reminder.

1.  Get back into Martial Arts.  My mind was never more pure and my body more sound.  It has served as the root of all that I have become, and yet somehow I’ve left it by the wayside for the gym and late nights at the bar.  It’s time for the artist to return to the easel.

2.  Learn how to ride a motorcycle.  This is just part of the family line.  Something about being an American of the caliber that I have shown to be, or at least, think that I have.  As unassuming as this may seem, I don’t think I need to explain myself any further.

3.  Get a concealed carry permit and purchase a handgun.  Again, this is a sense of something that actually falls under American entitlement.  Further, at this point, not having one just feels strange; a warrior without his sword.  Besides, what’s all this training worth if you are unarmed when the unexpected comes?

4.  Get back into Soccer.  Regardless of what’s going on with me, a quick game of soccer always releases me from whatever ails.  I just don’t do it enough.  I might volunteer as a coach or I might start in with the Latinos and pick up some games.  Dunno right now.

5.  Finish writing Acadia.  More to follow…

Some small things, but yet they seem to be the last of the big things, if that makes any sense.  By that I mean that in my grand plan, if I can get beyond these things listed here, I may find myself in a situation where I’m right were I want to be.  I realize how that sounds, as if somehow I’m not were I want to be.  What I’d rather seek to convey would be… I don’t know a good way to put it.  Centered?  Comfortable?  Balanced?  None of those are quite right.  Maybe that’s because what I’m going for is so rarely, if ever, achieved for very long.  Who can know, really, until after you’ve crested the mountain and can look back and say whether for certain you were there or not.  But I’ll tell you what:  I’ll be sure and let you know about this time next year.

And So This Is Christmas…  ~ The Beatles

I’ve noticed that a lot of people who are not native to the State of Maine have a very idealized version of Christmas.  While it is true, one can see white blankets of snow resting upon the pine bows and large families coming together around a roaring fires can be common place, it is far more likely to see several women dressed in sweat pants and rubber boots in the jewelry store and more than ten snowmobiles in the local Wal-Mart parking lot.  Even as a native, I as have to remember that we are not as ideal as I would sometimes like to think that we are.  Then again, I think that most people can, in some sense or fashion, say the same about there respective situations, be it the holidays or not.

What is strange though is that we all have a romanticized version of Christmas, which almost inevitably does not come to fruition despite the amount of pre-Christmas planning, prepping, and primping that we put into the affair.  At least for me, the only time that Christmas has ever been exactly as I hoped it would be were those rare overseas Christmas eves when I was able to go to the bar, drink without interruption (mainly because I would pick the bar that didn’t speak much English) and wake up with a solid hangover, just in time to get steaks and go play video games.  The think about hanging around with others who have the so-called “Christmas Spirit” is that they, without fail, have their own agenda to create and live out the best Christmas ever… and depending on the individual, they may or may not walk all over your special day to get it.

Therefore, I’ve found it best to place expectations low.  I set small goals equaling success for myself; if I get some hot mulled cider to drink by a fire and a tin of home-made Chex Party Mix all to myself, then I’m a happy little Santa’s helper.  Okay, so maybe I’m still a Grinch, but at least I’m a less obnoxious, less drunk one.

What I think is important to note for the sake of further observation is that both my cider and Party Mix requirements were filled on days other than Christmas; my cider was sipped yesterday and my tin of Party Mix will not likely be fully engulfed until tomorrow or the day after.  Which leads me to my next spirited and festive thought – why Christmas?

To be clear, I’m not saying “Why Christmas” as if to add to the over-arching war on Christmas, nor am I implying anything in the least toward the Christian religion who notably claims a hold on the day that goes a bit beyond figgy pudding and red-nosed reindeer.  What I am saying is more along the line of “Why the 25^th of December?”  The over-all people of the holiday, excluding the religious factor, is to gather and to give (I think) and it would seem that this is about as universal as fruitcake to most families.

I usually come home to Maine twice a year, once for the 4^th of July and then again on Christmas.  When I’m home for the summer months, mom and dad simply call all the relatives and grand parents who are around, and both sides of the family have a huge BBQ.  There is no set day for it, it just sort of goes off without too much of a hitch; no expectations, no frills, just good food and family.  Not sure why Christmas then becomes such a stress-fest.  Perhaps it’s the road conditions and the lack of short-sleeve shirts, but then again, who can be sure.

I mentioned all this to a rather new addition to our family’s Christmas Eve celebration.  Sharon listened to me for a bit and nodded most of the time.  However, in the end she just smiled and said, “…regardless, my grandmother will expect me for lunch tomorrow in west Boston by noon.”  I guess it’s hard to argue with that. 

Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt  ~ Mark Twain

It is not often that I feel like I develop a near complete and, dare I say, perfect metaphor for situations that are occurring close to or within the home front.  Therefore if you’ll indulge me, I’ll attempt to offer a bit of figurative wisdom that you, faithful reader, can either internalize or place into the recyclables in order to reduce your carbon paper footprint.  As I’m sure that most of you know, I’ve been going through a bit of emotional instability lately.  Some of you may consider the ol’ Guttersnake to be somewhat of a rock when it comes to matters of the heart; a blithe and romantically uncompromising spirit at best, a cold-hearted individual capable of putting forth enough logical to will himself out of troublesome emotional situations when they become too much to bare at worst.  To an extent both portrayals are true, but to whoever places the trust of stability upon the shoulders and heart of another may well leave themselves open to a level of potential unbalancing.  Such is the position that I have found myself in as of late. 

To be blunt, I don’t know how to completely regain my footing.  Poetic quotes of the heart don’t seem hardly apropos enough to provide comfort and expression, nor does the solace of another’s, any others’, company.  In all actuality, any attempts to drown my sorrows in a sea of sin, a normally tried and truth method, have been stopped short well ahead of time.  Frustrations at the dating process and an over abundance of porn seem to be the root cause, but I digress…

Another fell observation is that once looking up from the wreckage of this affair is that I have, to a great extent, negated the expansion of any sort of personal life in order to keep my previous long distance relationship afloat, so much so that said personal life actually seems to have atrophied to near non-existence.  Support networks then being found at critically wanting levels, I have found myself not only searching for old connections, but also old connections to myself and my past states of mind, that is to say, looking to figure out where I left off so that maybe in some small way I can get back to where I was going… even though I guess I was getting there regardless. 

In a like-minded discussion over soup and salad the other night, I said just this.  I offered that it was like I had been floating blissfully upon a river with my companion and I together, and that that our world aboard our vessel seemed both unifying and whole.  It was as if being upon the river did not take us out of the world, but rather placed us into the center of it, easing our journey and giving us greater perspective of not only our down side, but the far banks as well.  Maybe it even went beyond just perspective, but also rendered us the ability to move closer to the other side, disembarking and experiencing deeply of each other prior footing when necessary as well. 

Now, I am back upon the shore staring out upon the wide river again, this time watching our old vessel depart.  It is not as though I jumped from it in fear or anger, swimming madly for the restored and known traction, but rather it a detour that quietly took me to my bank and let me off without too much fuss.  I know that I am now standing and staring, wondering if it will turn around for me, but on that night over soup and salad, I realized a little more that likely it would not.  I realized again that there was a road to back, one that followed in and away from the river, and that this was the road upon which I was used to travelling for it was the same that I had tread upon my whole life.  I realized that it was time to get back upon its uneven path and try to find my way back to where I stepped off.

Waiting here, staring out at the ship’s wake, will not get me downriver any faster.  Jumping in alone is not an option; it’s a waste of time and likely would only result in me not getting very far and just a little wet… after all, only those that can walk on water can make it in such a manner.  Walking along the shoreline will probably keep me from remembering where I’m going, what I am doing, or at the very least, it won’t help me in any matter other than getting more lost than I currently am.  Very soon it will be time to stop staring out at the water, and get back on the road.  I know that this last vessel came upon me when I wasn’t even aware the water was close at hand, and I imagine that another will again if the road winds me in such a manner. 

My feet are soled of and not finned, so it would seem that my path is somewhat clear; for that is what it is – a path.  With the New Year coming, I think it is time to consider renewal and rebirth and what may lie around the next corner of the road, no matter how inviting the lapping, sunset banks may be to the mind who would dally another day or two in indolent bliss.  I’m sure that I will be back here someday.

Dip me in honey and feed me to the lesbians.  ~ as seen on a tee-shirt

I hate Windows VISTA.  Not because that it is a poor program, because it is not.  I’m wary of it because all the semi-maze-like hiccups don’t really strike me as bugs or flaws, but rather seem like the well-oiled money-making machine of an evil genius.  The latest rue that I have overcome is the fact that when you buy the operating system, you only receive a trial version of all the Microsoft Office products.  What this means is that you can only open the Microsoft programs a total of thirty times before you have to go buy the program from the store to receive the product key.  What they don’t tell you is that it comes with the hefty price tag of around two hundred bucks!  Luckily, the military has some sort of E-Commerce agreement with the powers that be, and in my mail box just arrived my product key… for only twenty bucks.  I love it when the government takes from corporate America… and if that makes me a Democrat, then so be it!

It comes at a good time because my Thanksgiving was wrought with colorful observation of the outside world, that is to say, a world away from a military township.  Things are not the same here.  There is an obvious over abundance of skinheads, a term I affectionately use for the lower enlisted Soldiers of the 82^nd Airborne Division, which in turn depletes an already under stocked population of attractive and eligible twenty-three to thirty-five year old females.  Also, the level of athleticism in a military town, for the most part, is a bit higher than your average ‘ville in the lower forty-eight, which leads to one taking for granted the mindset and dedication toward a healthy and active lifestyle.  Also, the conservative flavor of a town that is generally homogeneous in its political stance can stagnate most critical thinking, at least within a political sphere… unfortunately, I tend to agree with them most of the time anyway so I’m not too concerned with finding a new pundit outside of NPR.

Apparently, one other aspect that I seem to have been shielded from is the overt homosexual culture that is becoming more and more acceptable within our American way of life.  I spent this Thanksgiving in the Queen City of Cincinnati; a city that was once described truthfully to me as one part modern Midwestern metropolis, one part back-lot American freight-yard, and one part Bosnia.  However, my trip, which was supposed to be a relaxing semi-sober meet-and-greet with lost friends and family slowly turned into a bit of a suggestion toward where the mainstream of Cincinnati is going, and perhaps other cities as well.

By no fault of my own and without exaggeration, each of my days during my long weekend I encountered no less than three open homosexuals.  Some were introduced, as I hold no prejudice toward the gay community and neither do my friends or family; and some were random encounters which set off my “gay-dar” to multiple boggies.  While it was true, I did not attend any super conservative centers or congregations within the city, I was generally surprised at the general density and utter brazenness of some of the individuals which I encountered. 

I concluded this at the end of the third day, but by the fourth and final, I thought, wait, what centers of conservative nature would I be avoiding?  My old alma mater, Xavier University, a Jesuit Institution, placed a welcoming statement to “…all peoples of race, creed, gender, and sexual orientation…” while I was at school, so if not there, then where?  I consulted my friends (at least the ones who are not in the theater as I figured their perception would be naturally skewed), and was surprised to hear that they had observed the same as trends as well.  The single females stated that it was becoming terribly hard to find a good single man because the bars where becoming flooded with gay men, and further, many of their friends had turned bi-sexual simply out of an interest and availability of single and relaxed lesbians. 

While I was a bit disappointed that the single women of my beloved Cincinnati had to turn to each other for sex when I’m sitting at home watching porn in my own city praying for a lonely woman (heck, any lonely woman!) to call me on the phone, I thought about the plight of Cincinnati, and it made sense.  Cincinnati is a city that has fallen on hard times due to urban sprawl, poor city planning, and general crime and deterioration over the past ten to fifteen years.  The economic crisis in America has taken the controlling stake of many cities out of the hands of the corporate innovators and placed it back into the developmental hands of the only community (other than government service) that looks at toils and hardships inherent in this recession as just another day: the art community… which just happens to be filled with homosexuals.

However, the point of this observation is not to pass judgment on being a homosexual.  Honestly, I don’t feel that I am in any position to judge what another man does with his penis in his spare time… goodness knows that I’ve done some fairly abusive shit with mine… but I digress.  What I do want to pass judgment on is gayness.

I made the observation as I browsed through Macy’s on Black Friday that the voice that came over the intercom was not only gay sounding, but it was party queer with a chance of fag.  I remarked to my comrade that it would seem that the primary demographic in Macy’s on that day was thirty-to-fifty year old women, and that wouldn’t it seem to be more appropriate to have the voice of a Dean Martin stand-in explaining to them where to find the best savings throughout the store… perhaps while sipping a cool alcoholic beverage into the microphone.  My friend replied that women found gay men more comforting nowadays.  I asked if these were the same women who had explained to me that they were unhappy that there were no straight men to be found on Saturday night?  My friend had little reply.  I continued that most men that I knew fit very well the image of a strong, sound, and morally upright American male, such as they were looking for, but these men would be unlikely to advance on a woman, regardless of beauty or dowry, if she fit the description of a “fag-hag”.  This time, there was agreement.

Because I have no problem with a man or woman being gay; I have a problem with a man or woman acting gay.  It’s the difference between a Caucasian and a Red-Neck, an African American and a Niger (oops, can I say that?!), a Mexican and a Spick.  They are low-class, undesirable stereotypes of our various peoples that makes not only others from across the isle look at you with distaste, but also members of your own creed.

Until now.  I’m not quite sure when acting gay became okay and maybe even chic in our culture, but it seems to have.  I think that it started with the whole “metro-sexual” movement thing, which I may have taken part of in my lost early twenties for a brief moment, but I quickly came out of it because I realized that it was a bit, well, gay.  Now it has spiraled out of control from a hundred different sources such as feminist gender neutralization, a lack of overall hardship in American life propped up by a strange sense of American entitlement, and perhaps even somethings as simple as a disappearance of the rugged frontier spirit, true American idealism and independence, and hard male role models.  The funniest thing to me is that what is now cropping up is a whole sub-genre of men who are not homosexual who simply act gay, possibly because no one has ever stopped them and said, sir, your acting like a fag, knock it off and act like a grown man.  Who knows where this is going, but it’s going… or gone. 

I guess that’s the observation: that I think for at least a percentile of men who would classify themselves as homophobic, it’s not so much the fact that a person is a homosexual that forms a distaste (I think that demographic is solidly formed of evangelical Christians), but rather of having to deal with the fruity nature of fags.  Personally, I don’t tolerate the dancing around flaming behavior from a child starving for attention, regardless of sex, and I shouldn’t have to tolerate it from a grown man.  Forgive me if I sound chauvinistic, but if the homosexual community conducted themselves in a way that didn’t scream ‘fag’ as soon as they walked into a room, they would likely a lot more easy to swallow…  no pun intended.

Americans have finally gotten beyond our racial past, and we picked a black man to pick up our mess.  ~ Bill Maher

Things finally seem to be settling to the bottom.  At least, that’s what seems to be the case in the grand world of cable television networks.  This marathon of election season has gleefully subsided, and with the woes of a still downward skidding global market place hanging in the balance, it almost appears as if the media, the population, and the rest of the world are all holding their breaths, waiting to see what happens next.  Even comedy shows are starting to feel the winds of subtle change; an overly used and perhaps banked-upon word these past few months.  Saturday Night Live, who has made their money for the past twenty years mocking our Presidents, may find this one a bit harder to make light of, considering the amount of, dare I say, hope that rides upon the office.  Even ol’ Jon Stewart is taking his last swings at a lame duck President who has been his “daily” bread and butter for the past eight years.  Yup, it seems that things may return to civility, even in the world of sketch comedy.  But now that the dust has settled a bit, I figured I should weigh in a tad.

Meanwhile, I’m certain that you, faithful reader, have noticed that an election has slipped by without so much as my batting an eye or typing a word.  I had my reasons.  First, it seemed like band wagonning and sensory overload towards that time period.  Further, a large number of people (or at least the large number of people whom the media decided to report on) remained determined to discuss obvious observations to particularly irrelevant ends and points… so I refrained from making my own lest I be lumped in with them.  Secondly, I did not write anything because of the sheer jubilation of Obama supporters.  As always, I attempt to remain candid, unbiased, and original in perspective, and there was simply no ear for even potential nay-saying at the hour of trumpeting.  And thirdly, my trial version of Microsoft Office is about to expire, and I can’t spell check until I get my key code in the mail… and that’s a bit discouraging for everyone involved, I think.

But to catch us up a bit, I will say that this whole election had me nervous.  I could go into my anarchist chaos theories of doom and gloom, but I’ll hold back.  What I will say is that we are certainly at a major turning point in American history, whether or not the average American understands it or not.  And it’s not a crisis or a surrender of American values; at least, I don’t think so – it’s a return to them.  The storm that would destroy us will break based upon whether or not Americans can still remember what it means to be Americans or if we have sunk so deep into our self-entitlement, political correctness, and paranoia to recover.  Time will tell.

What was interesting to me in the election was how the states themselves played out.  The no-brainer round tables on CNN and FOXNews were awash with numb-nut analysts pointing out that southern states went to Senator McCain, and that what this meant was the south was not ready for a black president.  I’ll address the race piece here in a minute… However, while it was nice to see that the ol’ Mason-Dixon Line is still alive and well (except for North Carolina and Virginia thankfully), what I was more surprised to observe was our electoral college at work.  I’ve often marveled that while America has made it its mission to plant the seeds of democracy around the world for the past sixty years, it has never offered an electoral college to any other country but our own.  Why is this?  Could it be that the Muslim Arabs have the ability to understand the completely foreign concept of democracy, but they are unfamiliar with the idea of a weighed end to population-driven sub-states?  No, I think not.

It was a bit clearer to me as the states results began to pour in.  As the east coast became lit up with a blue north and a red south, I looked at the electoral number tally just off to the side of my screen and realized that one candidate was well in front of the other.  Seemed odd, but the fleeting thought that I had was, huh, that’s one way to insure that the South will not rise again… at least not electorally.  Just food for thought…

Now then, there was the rampant running of the mouth about that matter of race, and as always, I was disgusted by the out-dated mindset on both sides of the divide, despite what I considered obvious numbers.  From the whites, I heard the boorishly trite prattle about southern not excepting a black president.  From the blacks, I heard the same thing fired back at the whites – that racism was alive at well in America.  Before, I agree or disagree, let’s look at this as a contemporary issue, not some aged civil rights movement against Jim Crow Laws.  Those arguments needed to dry up on November 5^th when every minority who had been blaming “The Man” for their troubles and misfortunes had to realize that they now were “The Man”.  However, if you want to look at racism, take a look at the ‘new majority’.  Whites, regardless of any demographic other than race, voted 53-45% in favor of President-Elect Obama.  Blacks, on the other hand, voted 93-5% for Obama.  Paying just a rare moment of Devil’s Advocate, could you imagine if whites had voted 90% or higher in favor of McCain?  Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton would still be screaming. 

Howard Stern, in all his astute political savvy, spent a few weeks prior to the election sending one of his female employees to the streets of major metropolitan areas masquerading as a reporter on the beat, and asking African Americans what they thought of then Senator Obama’s policies.  The catch was that this woman would offer Senator McCain’s campaign platform up as Senator Obama’s and, of course, the average African American on the street gladly praised it as the way ahead and real thinking without actually knowing a single thing about their candidate’s actual stance on just about anything.  One extreme dullard, when ask if he was okay with Gov. Sarah Palin as Senator Obama’s running mate, stated that he thought that this was just fine for the country.

Now, I’m sure that if anyone was so inclined that they could have taken a camera or boom-microphone and found similar levels of stupidity from white voters as well.  I sleep soundly at night presenting myself with the illusion that hopefully these people were also too dumb to register to vote in the first place. 

Nonetheless, if any one demographic should be labeled racist in this election it should be the African Americans.  But even that is an unwarranted fight, I feel, which lowers us to weak and misappropriated levels of political correctness. There is nothing wrong with voting for a candidate because of his skin color or religion or creed… if you think that based upon that fact he (or she) will represent you and this nation in a more positive way than his (or her) opponent.  America has been doing that since its inception!  The Irish did it in New York as immigrants, so did the Catholics with JFK.  New Mexico has a Mexican Governor largely due to a dense Mexican immigrant population… and obviously a legal one because they can vote. 

What I’m getting at is that age old concepts of white verses blacks are truly fading.  I’m not disagreeing that pockets of antiquated thinking still exist (I’m looking at you, Georgia), but the numbers don’t lie.  Half of whites, regardless of political thought, said that it was okay to have a black president.  Who knows of the other fifty-percent or so how many felt the same way, but didn’t vote for the President-Elect because of party or policy reasons.  I don’t think that I can give the same gold star of unity to the African American community… not because they almost across the board voted for their man, I’m not hating on that.  But because the next day, every black man or woman on television said at one point or the other how racism was alive and well rather than noting that it was as much the white vote that elected the next president as the black vote. 

Luckily for all of us, President-Elect Obama does not seem to see things in terms of color.  Or party lines for that matter…

One patron of my favorite local pub stated (nay, slurred) the other night to me that he liked the fact that Obama was so young and so unspoiled by Washington that he didn’t owe nothing to nobody.  I thought, that’s very true, and then further wondered just how far that little difference will take him.  So far, even in the planning stages, it could well be the ruby slippers than will carry him to the Emerald City. 

Of course, the talk since the election has been on his choice for cabinet members.  Speculation is abounding in all facets of the media as well as dinner tables and local bars alike.  I have heard some intelligent comments and suggestions, but oddly enough, the ones that I think are the most far out there are not only going to be the ones that President-Elect Obama will pick, but they are also going to be the ones that work! 

First things first: we need the Secretary of the Treasury AND Secretary of Commerce named and named yesterday…but honestly, I don’t know shit about this, so I’m going to skip it.  Secondly, how now does the President-Elect deal with your ex-rivals as well as a disorganized and extremely bitter (though heavily marginalized) Republican Party?

The President-Elect understands the value of star-power.  Just look at his rallies.  They are more akin to a Rolling Stones concert than a political summit.  Further, as I opened this blog stating, we have been invested in these candidates’ lives for the past year or two, and more so than I believe we ever have been in our current President.  Therefore, I think that the President-Elect understands the need to maintain the name value of his past political opponents in order to unify and carry his agenda.  Now, while I have heard Senator Hillary Clinton being thrown around as a consideration for the Secretary of State, I don’t think that’s as likely an outcome as some.  One the one hand, she likely won’t leave her Senate seat for that, not with the Democrats now in firm control, and secondly, I don’t think that President-Elect Obama will offer it to her… I think later in his first term, he will offer her a seat on the Supreme Court… which offers the party more longevity on the Roe v. Wade issue as well as keeping Senator Clinton from running for President again.  At least theoretically.   

The most interesting thing that I watched on TV this week was the President-Elect meeting with Senator McCain, though the topics of the conversation were not made terribly public.  I liked that, showed composure.  However, I have a conjecture.  Even as Robert Gates heaves a heavy sigh over likely staying on another year as Secretary of Defense, I suspect that President-Elect Obama is grooming Senator McCain for the post.  Politically and militarily, its genius because it will strip the Senate of another deeply incumbent Republican controlled seat just a year prior to elections whilst giving the country a huge boost of brotherly love by adding your primary rival to your cabinet.  Personally, I would love to see that happen.

However, the prospect that I am most excited about is Secretary of State.  Predominantly because I think that the principal choice is clear:  Oprah Winfrey.  She practically does the job now, anyway.  Republicans will love her because she has more money than God, and Democrats will love her because she is a hard line liberal.  For some reason, I just think it would be perfect… now, would that make O Magazine a propaganda piece?  I do hope so!