Hawaii Hubbub

Innocent?

2011-09-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

Americans have to stop talking about how 9/11 shattered their innocence. You dropped 2 atomic bombs, held slaves, segregated people by color and race, built numerous military bases around the world, spy via satellites, eavesdrop on citizens, keep dictators in power, embargo poor nations, decimated your native population, put Japanese citizens in camps, invade countries that are not a threat, and generally treat the world like an outhouse.

Ghostly Confessions

2011-02-23T05:11:00.000-08:00

To the reader of these notes it's clear by now that I engage in an inordinate amount of walking compared to my previous sedentary lifestyle. It's not that I never walked, but it was mostly a basic utilitarian motion used to shorten the distance between myself and my car, and any accompanying thoughts were likely equally limited. In contrast, my walks into and out of Ubud have taken on a much more contemplative nature, partially explained by the fact that I must pass a place of death, and isn't death the most suitable of all contemplative subjects?

The particular place of death I refer to is a grassy area just off the road of Tirta Tawar in the Banjar of Kutuh Kaja. For those of you not well versed in Balinese lore, a Banjar compares loosely to a neighborhood watch group comprised of village elders that periodically meet to plan ceremonies and set important dates, like those for cremations, which involve a large part of the Ubud community. In the Banjar I reside these cremation ceremonies take place on temple grounds nearby my house.

When it's late at night and I have negotiated the last barking dogs belonging to the string of compounds that spread out from town I must continue my way on a remaining stretch of road alongside the cremation grounds. Interestingly, only a few headstones are present in the grass, maybe no more than 4 or 5, looking old and forlorn as if the practice of setting them had gone out of fashion with the invention of matches.
On my last walk the night air was still warm from the day and the surrounding palm trees and other vegetation stood scissored against the dark indigo sky in which a waxing moon shone palely. A dog walked by hastily, shiftily glancing up, making a wide arc around me, seemingly as uncomfortable by my presence as that of the recently charcoaled. Smoke from a slow simmering pile of dead leaves drifted silently over the area which was littered with an unholy amount of trash left by merchants that had set up shop along the road during the last cremation. Indeed, Balinese cremations evoke an atmosphere not unlike that of a small county fair in rural US, a place to gather, eat, drink, laugh, and jostle some dead folks before burning them to ashes.
Well, except maybe for that last part.

With the cremation over the area had taken on the desolate appearance of a dump site for the dead as well as the living. A perfect setting for a zombie or vampire flick and a good time for ghosts to manifest themselves, were it not that I no longer believe in them.
When I was a young boy my father died of lung cancer. My mother and I shortly thereafter moved from our village to Amsterdam and the chair my father used to take naps in came along to the new house and in a hanging closet my mother kept his suits. His presence was felt by me long after his death. Sometimes I dreamed of him walking back into our lives, all suited up, and reclaim his favorite chair. It wasn't until after my mother finally parted with my father's suits that his ghost could begin to fade from my consciousness. From then on I understood that ghosts were part of our ability to imagine things.

I know plenty of people who would not want to even pass a cemetery during any time of day if it could be avoided, yet few, if any, claim to have ever seen a ghost, a popular image most often associated with the departed, other than of course, blood-thirsty zombies in various stages of compost crawling out from under heavy tombstones they have, in spite of decaying muscles, no trouble pushing aside with surprising agility.
Sorry.
Didn't mean to heap humor on a deadly serious post.
Meant instead to mention that at the edge of that field where many had been sent on a disembodied voyage I experienced several times a strange sense of calm and peace even as an occasional moped or automobile sprinted by noisily. Apparently, it's a place to let go of earthly sentiments even though nowadays, as I walk by I think about which tasks I must complete before I too sojourn on, not because my demise is within calculated range, but it's the ultimate fate we all meet one day and no matter from which culture you hail, it's best to be prepared for that lo-o-ong vacation.
After all, aren't ghosts restless manifestations of those that haven't completed their mission in life? Let's not take a risk here.

Seeing how the Balinese treat death has made me re-examine our Western approach to mortality, not because saying farewell to this world and loved ones should be a festive affair, but expressions of grief and loss are obviously also geographically, socially, and culturally predetermined. Maybe our tears are not only for the newly departed, and we also mourn our inability to indulge in the cycle of life with equal parts enthusiasm at every stage.

Tired now from all the contemplatin'. Time to relax. Think I'll walk to the video store and rent Shaun Of The Dead. I know it's late, but gosh, I need a good laugh!

Expat Culture

2011-02-21T22:43:00.001-08:00

The expats in Bali are a mixed lot, as you can expect. I've only met a few so far, but in general they appear a bit unkempt and covered with a layer of fine dust that over time has nestled in their pores, adding a thin gray filter to their appearance that seems to foreshadow imminent decay. Fitting, as they may be destined to die in their newly adopted domicile. Distancing themselves from their country of origin is also evident from the garb they don, a mix of resort clothing, semi-transparent tropical tops, vests of various folklore, big ass harem pants, and Balinese ceremonial sarongs, with or without head dress, beads, noisy bracelets, ankle bells, nose rings, sailor tattoos, rubber tire sandals, and local companion, human or canine, in tow.

They often hang around the kind of place that caters to the less affluent traveler, the more organic-aware, where they can be found lounging home-style, dirty feet on the cushions, replying email on laptops plastered with more stickers than a steamer trunk, or spelling every article from ads for door nails to the obituaries in a several days old L'Express, Herald-Tribune, or Stuttgarter Zeitung. Time no longer matters, but stale news from the homeland does...

Many have acquired a scooter, moped, or motorbike and figure that, while not enforced, wearing a helmet buffers them against the kind of reckless driving the Balinese, and dare I say Asians as a demographic, engage in.

What strikes me most is that, save a few, most of these expats are—brace yourself—butt ugly, no really, as if cast from their country by border officials, told not to return and create their offspring elsewhere, which some have, colorful children, many of mixed heritage, growing up without other role models than a tribe of misfit aliens.
While I'm not sure how to jive this last bit of observation with my sense of compassion toward those less fortunate in the physical attractiveness department, the good part is that it makes the Balinese look so much better in comparison.

Not to appear rudimentary () in my observations I must make a distinction between the kind of expat that appears to be adrift with little or no interest in the surrounding culture and only try to stretch their funds to the max and those that have anchored themselves in Bali's society, in short the entrepreneurial kind, brains hard-wired for business, but fueled by alternative energy from organic compost, rather than a singular recipe of unadulterated greed that powers mainstream America's enterprise. They operate small businesses that cater to the green crowd, no-longer-young yoginis, the natural this and that faddists, maybe even their aforementioned apathetic, lethargic, beadie-smoking, dreadlocked, dropped-out counterparts, and seem to do well.
These expats are not content becoming part of the timeless wallpaper every popular destination plasters over locales that seem to impede improvement: bus terminals, open air chess clubs, street corners, fast food joints, video game arcades, internet cafes, and night markets, all "last gas station before the desert" kind of places. In fact, they may very well deliver the crossbreeding every society needs that's otherwise stagnant in thoughtless exploitation of its history and cultural expressions, even though "progress" will no doubt exact a hefty price.

Where in these characterizations I fit (if ever and if at all) I'm not sure just yet, but I promise you'll be the first to know.

Ketut and the Case of the Disappearing Tourists

2011-02-21T20:17:00.000-08:00

At first the people of Ubud did not notice anything different. There were suddenly fewer tourists. Not really suddenly, but who misses a few in the beginning? It was when a whole bus of tourists went missing that people started talking and even that took time, because who wants to be the first to create a rumor? Right, no one. It was Ketut, one of the local policemen, who wanted to know more when he overheard Nyoman, a Jalan Raya Ubud shopkeeper that sold sarongs, mention to one of the waitresses at the next door restaurant that a tourist who had a moment before stood in her doorway had simply disappeared. She couldn't say, "Like snow before the sun," because that just doesn't make sense in Bali, so she said something similar in Balinese. You get the idea. And so did Ketut, but only after picking up more bits and pieces of conversations between locals.
Now, Ketut had no business in Ubud central. A few years earlier he had been delegated to his own neighborhood of Banjar Kutuh Kaja, just up the road of Jalan Tirta Tawar, where hardly anything ever happened. Maybe a stray dog causing an accident, or a foreigner renting a bungalow forgetting to re-register his passport with the police for a 30 day visa extension. That sort of thing. Nothing to write home about. Not that he would, because Ketut still lived at home and probably always would being the youngest of the family, as in Bali it's custom that the last born inherits all, thereby guaranteeing longer care for aging parents than in the case of an older sibling.

That all being beside the point, now that his curiosity was piqued Ketut decided to do some undercover investigating—which would be hard since everyone knew him. He seldom wore a complete uniform, instead opting to cover his gun and belt with an oversized T-shirt, which he reasoned made the people of the Banjar feel less intimidated by his presence and they'd speak more freely, often forgetting that he in fact represented The Law. Dressed thusly he wandered on his next day off into Ubud because Wayan, his wife, had forgotten to repair his civilian pants, which had a rip due to him having rather formidable thighs, courtesy of working out twice weekly at the Ubud Gym. That too being beside the point, it was a very alert Ketut that day who sauntered up and down Jalan Raya Ubud.
It wasn't before long that he noticed some tourists trudging along the sidewalk, hopping in and out of stores selling typical tourist stuff, like masks, batik, sarongs, silver jewelry.
Sure enough, although he wasn't too sure as he had just waved at his old schoolfriend Made, the tourists he'd been following were suddenly nowhere to be seen. He walked a few times by the places where he'd last seen them but they had simply vanished. He didn't know the expression "in thin air," but it was like that.

Still, there was no reason for panic, not for a cool-headed policeman like Ketut. Doing police work, and also from reading Mickey Spillane crime novels, he had learned that for even the most mysterious occurrence there was usually a rational explanation.
It wasn't until after turning into a side street and finding himself another tourist to shadow—a big fellow with a red complexion and a cowboy hat—that he got his first clue, even though he didn't know it at the time: a peculiar twist in the man's step. Looked more like he played a game of hopscotch, the way the tourist walked. Most curious. And as he followed the man at some distance he noticed a tourist family of five across the street doing the same thing. Tourists were so rampant in Bali that Ketut had to admit to himself that he never even paid attention to any of them unless they caused a problem. But now he stood frozen in his tracks, rubbing his chin and scratching the back of his head at the same time.
Strange, he said to himself, except he said it in Bahasa, and he preceded it with "Aduh," which is not really a word at all, but more of a verbal exclamation mark. "Aduh, aneh!"
Barely had he said those words or he realized that his ruddy-faced tourist was gone. Something strange was going on in Ubud, but exactly what it was—other than tourists disappearing ad hoc—was not clear. He turned to look at the family of five and they too were gone. Ketut rubbed his eyes as if he had just gotten out of bed, but that didn't help. People were vanishing in droves and they wouldn't reappear because he was rubbing his eyes.

Clearly, a full-scale investigation was called for, but he'd have to approach the police commissioner who'd certainly have questions of his own, like why had he left his Banjar and was messing with someone else's beat, and why had he not properly asked for permission to conduct his own investigation, and maybe most importantly, how could they keep the disappearances a secret if they went out in full force and started asking questions?
After all, every Balinese is aware that it is tourism that supplies almost everyone with a lifestyle an average Indonesian citizen could only dream of. In the course of less than twenty years almost every Balinese had acquired a motorized vehicle and new villas, bungalows, and homestays were being built at an accelerated pace to cash in on tourism.

Those and several other completely beside the point thoughts went through Ketut's mind as he walked back to Jalan Raya Ubud, keeping an eye out for tourists, of which he now realized there were remarkably few considering the time of day and season. He was so engrossed in thought that when a fast approaching minibus forced him off of the road he almost tripped over a large slab of stone that lay wedged crookedly in the sidewalk with one edge protruding dangerously above the surface, one that he had avoided since stubbing his toe on it as a boy. Immediately he had to sidestep yet another obstruction, a large hole where the sidewalk had completely caved in, which he did with a hop and a scotch of his formidable Ubud Gym-trained legs. As he continued, still thinking about the mystery of the disappearing tourists, he automatically avoided many perils on his way, until he came to a particularly deep crevice between sidewalk stones where a whole slab had deteriorated and fallen into the sewer that runs below almost every street of Ubud. The sewer and the sidewalk constructed over it were, if you thought about it, an ingenious system, one that dealt well with waters from rain storms. Ketut had wanted to become an engineer, but funds had been limited and so his education had been halted in favor of Wayan, his older brother who had gone on to study in Jakarta. Ketut was proud of getting a good job anyway, as competition to join the police was always fierce, but since the head of the Banjar was good friends with the police commissioner it had been arranged in his favor. It was a job he'd probably have for the rest of his life, one with certain prestige, and it had allowed him to marry a bit above his own caste to the one girl in school he'd always liked best.
Not that any of this mattered, but to Ketut it did, as few things were as important as being married, having babies, and providing for one's old age, which was where tourism came in, in a big way, because without it there simply wouldn't be a future for Bali and going back to planting rice was out of the question now that many of his peers had found employment in the hospitality industry. Ketut was well aware of what the word "hospitality" means, as every Balinese, every Indonesian in fact, is obliged by culture and religion to treat strangers as guests, and it was this welcoming attitude that had made Bali such a popular place in the world. Could all that be at risk, now that tourists were mysteriously disappearing around him? He could not let that happen, and so he continued his investigation on his own, more vigil than he had been earlier that morning and that was a good thing, otherwise he might have tripped on one of the drain cover grills that appears in many Ubud sidewalks every few meters. That'd be funny! Most local folks had after all developed a sixth sense for avoiding such obstacles.

The afternoon sun was already beginning to lengthen the shadows of the trees lining the streets when Ketut finally stumbled upon the break he'd been looking for. Not far after passing Jalan Bisma, where the road winded down toward the bridge at Murni's, he suddenly heard from below his feet a faint yelp. At first he thought his ears were playing tricks on him so he looked up and around instead of down, but then the cry was repeated, louder this time, and he heard, "Help. Help us, please," just as it's written here, in plain English, but with a German accent.

Ketut understood a little "Ingris," as Balinese call it. Just enough to know someone was in distress UNDER THE SIDEWALK! That fact did throw him off momentarily as it was just plain insane, the idea that someone had managed to slip under the heavy slabs of stone and concrete, but when he lowered himself on one of his formidable knees it was unmistakingly true as he spotted four boney fingers reaching out through a crack in the sidewalk. "Someone there?" he asked, immediately aware of the stupidity of the question.
"Yes," the voice replied thinly, "there's a whole busload of us here and we want out."
Ketut was not only in shock, he also realized that at this place in the road, in spite of all the cars, taxis, and mopeds racing by, he was very much alone, even helpless, and desperately needed backup. He reached for his phone, but his hands were sweaty and the thing jumped in the air like a bar of soap and disappeared into the crack.
"Thank you," someone said. "Hey guys, this phone works. Who's first?"
"Me," "No, me," "No, no, me, me, me," he heard people shouting and it seemed like a struggle commenced.
Oh, my, Ketut thought, how many are there?
By this time, he had lowered himself flat out on his belly and tried to peer through the crack in the sidewalk. At first he didn't see anything, but then a dirty face appeared briefly in the light falling through the crack. Angry hollow eyes that looked more like those of an animal than of a human being stared back at him.
"Are you going to get help, or what?" the mouth in the angry face shouted.
"Yes, yes, sebentar," Ketut mumbled, "Just one moment."
"Well, hurry up! We feel ignored and we're hungry. We've been eating nothing but rice washed down from your offering baskets, maybe a wrapped candy now and then, but mostly we've been starving. We want to go to Café Lotus and Casa Luna and have a good meal. We've been hallucinating about hamburgers, fish and chips, spaghetti, french fries, and Haagen Dasz ice cream!"
Food was important in Ketut's life. If he went half a day without nasi campur, soto ayam, or gado-gado he'd become irritable, so he could imagine how the tourists under the sidewalk felt.
"Hold on," he shouted into the crack, "I'm going to get help!"
Just then a voice above him said, "Officer Ketut, what in the name of Shiva are you doing, sprawled out on the street like roadkill?"
It was City Administrator Dewa, the eldest son of a good friend of his father and an important figure as all police salaries were being processed by his department. Ketut scrambled to his feet, saluted, and pointed at the crack in the sidewalk. "Tourists," he stammered. "Hundreds!"
"What are you talking about, Ketut?" Dewa asked. "Have you gone mad?"
"Yes sir, no sir, I mean, hundreds of tourists vanished because of cracks in our sidewalks." With his formidable hands he began pulling up one of the slabs of concrete that had been dropped over one of the enormous holes. Immediately several skinny, dirty hands appeared, grabbing Ketut by the wrist.
Dewa looked like he heard it thundering in Jakarta as he watched Ketut pull out an emaciated tourist in a tattered Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops with chew marks. He wanted to take his hat off and scratch his head, but he wasn't even wearing a hat. That's how confusing it all was.
"Impossible," he said, glad that he had found the strength to recompose himself as could be expected of someone with a pencil mustache in a handsome dark brown government uniform with his name stitched in gold on his chest. "The sidewalks, they've always been... Just there, like always. Why now...? And suddenly?"
Ketut was too busy pulling more tourists out of the sidewalk to answer. He wished Dewa would help him, but as he was of a lower caste he didn't dare summon the aloof administrator. Soon he was surrounded by a bunch of filthy, rich tourists that squinted at the daylight and began dusting one another off. Many had remnants of morning offerings in their hair. Now cars and mopeds came to a halt, their drivers gaping at the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. At Murni's a makeshift triage station was established for tourists with scrapes and bruises and those unable to walk. Weakly waving their credit cards they ordered coffee and cake for themselves and ice cream and soda for the kids that had been clamoring for them day after day, or rather, night after night, because that's how it had felt, being buried under the sidewalks.
It wasn't long before the police commissioner showed up with a couple of traffic cops in tow that began blowing their whistles and swinging their arms as only traffic cops can.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, or rather the tourists out from under the sidewalk, the gathered Balinese started talking about who was to blame as a few able-bodied tourists took them to the holes in the sidewalk that had swallowed them. When one claimed that the Ubud sidewalks looked as bad as they had 17 years earlier during his first visit it began to dawn on some that the ones responsible were each and everyone of them. They had just accepted a bad situation as the way it was and likely would always be, not thinking that it would get worse.
That is until someone uttered the word, "Karma."
Hearing that Ketut, who had momentarily stopped lifting tourists out of the sidewalk with his formidable arms in order to wipe the sweat off of his brow, found the courage to address the passive onlookers. "Brothers... and sisters," he said upon discovering his wife's face in the crowd, and he spread his arms out wide. "We ought to be ashamed of ourselves." At once it was so quiet you could hear a palm frond fall noisily, birds sing in the trees, and the river rushing under the bridge—sounds usually muted by traffic noises.
"We've taken these tourists for granted, thinking they'll always be there. We lined our pockets, sent our children to universities, built big compounds and homestay bungalows, started importing goods from Java while telling tourists we were making them ourselves, and to express our thanks for all the wealth, good health, and the grace the Gods bestowed on us we began to neglect the very fabric that brought these people to our doorsteps, the sidewalks on which they ought to walk safely without risk for life and limb. While we grew fat and lethargic we were undermining the very core of our being, our faith, by not caring anymore."
At this point Ketut looked lost as he saw everyone staring at him stupidly, but then someone started to clap her hands, a frail, elderly tourist in a torn dress and a Balinese hat who understood some Bahassa. Others joined in and soon everyone was putting their hands together and bowing to Ketut. He caught his wife's wide smile as she looked proudly at her husband. Seeing a new determination spread among his people Ketut mumbled, "Balinese are the best." Someone grabbed him by one of his formidable legs and he was hoisted up on his several shoulders and together with the freed tourists a spontaneous procession began that ended at Banjar Kutuh Kaja. People went home and quickly changed into their best garments, musicians gathered their instruments, and soon gamelan music united everyone, dirty tourists and impeccably dressed Balinese, and even the dogs barked with new-found fervor.

THE END, but not entirely. See my pictures of Ubud sidewalks here.

The Bali Advertiser sent me this email:
Thanks but we only publish original work, not anything that has been posted or printed elsewhere. Would also appreciate it if you would remove mention of Bali Advertiser from Face Book, as your article will not appear in BA.
Regards,
Chris

To which I responded:
Thank you very much for your curt reply, Chris.
It just oozes the smiles and courtesy Bali is famous for.
Too bad that editors holding their rag to such high standards seem it fit to publish articles (not to mention write letters) rift with spelling errors, bad grammar, and amateurish writing, yet fail to see a cause worth supporting (or even discussing) that could benefit every pedestrian in places where the government is clearly inept.
Maybe ineptness in Bali is more rampant than I thought.
Thanks again for your reply.
Sincerely,

Rudolf Helder

PS: If you are in fact an editor, Chris, how about checking your English for logic, grammar, and punctuation? It may make for a good habit. For instance, your "but" should be preceded by a comma, don't you think, while your combined use of "also" and "appreciate" fails to reference any preceding text. Let's not even start about starting a sentence with "Would."
"Facebook" is one word last time I checked(!), while your consequent request appears most petulant in terms, and must therefore, in the spirit of your dismissal, be dismissed in turn. Lastly, a professional, and dare I say, polite person would sign his or her name in full, with proper reference to his or her position. Unless, of course, you are merely an intern, which I suspect. All my best to you in your life and good luck with your career, which is what careers need most if they're not based on competency. If you doubt that, why not interview the official in charge of roads and sidewalks in Ubud?

"John"

2011-02-19T20:22:00.001-08:00

The girl that gave him a foot massage and pedicure was young, maybe 24, lean and with supple skin. The way she sat, in the way of the locals, more like a squat on a low kind of upturned bucket, he could see some belly fat which surprised him considering the way she was built. Maybe older than he thought. You'd never know with Asians. Maybe a mother already. They liked to start young.
The girl looked up with a quick movement of her head, caught him staring down her neckline. Smiled. Vapid eyes. Customarily. No expectations. Just doing her work, which was well what was it? Soaking his feet and scraping dirt away from under his toenails. Some job. He looked at his legs, a scarecrow's sun-bleached fake limbs, pale and veined coming out from under his rolled back pants. Shit. It'll take a while to get tanned here in Ubud. Wasn't Kuta Beach where most tourists hung out. He'd been there, years ago. Maybe seventeen. Over here, Ubud, they'd come for the day to marvel at the architecture of the Balinese, their crafts, carving and painting, not much else, certainly not foot massages.
He was still staring at the girl, trying to get a peek at her small breasts that didn't need a bra, which she wore anyway like every woman he'd seen so far, not like the first time he learned about Bali as a boy, sneaking a peek at a book in his big sister's library—more a bookshelf, actually—called what? The Family of Man, a collection of nice black and whites from around the world, in which one showed a young Balinese woman with fantastically formed bare breasts balancing a basket on her head, talking to an old Chinese-looking man in a market. The fact that the girl was half naked in public, that that was normal there and that the Chinese guy was looking at her face as she was saying something to him, not at her full breasts with nipples you just wanted between your lips to drink milk from, which he now thought was probably what they were for back then, not be put away in a bra, but for nourishment, with babies just flying out of their wombs, at least that's what people said back then, talking about the yellow peril, that one day Asians would overrun the world, that there were millions and millions of them breeding more all the time. Talk that made them faceless, subhuman and scary to think of when you're just a kid sneaking a peek at boobs in a book.
Now he knew better. He'd been coming to Asia for years. Maybe because of the succulent breasts he'd seen as a boy in pictures from Thailand, Burma, Vietnam, Philippines, but mostly Indonesia because, after all, they'd owned the country for 350 years. Did she even know that, or cared about that, that her ancestors were maybe forced to give foot baths to the Blanda, the colonial occupiers, coming from a country of a few million, ruling over some 350 million on thousands of islands? Insane. Crazy lot the Dutch were, or rather, had been, killing their kings, imprisoning them, or driving them to suicide, whole courts walking into a hail of Dutch bullets.
When you walk around bare breasted pride is all you have and pride they had plenty, the blue ones, as the Dutch called 'em then, supposedly for the blue spot Asians have at birth at the bottom of the spine.
The blue ones.
Then two Indonesian boys took that nickname and started a musical duo proudly called The Blue Diamonds. Clever. He smiled. The girl in front of him wore looked up and smiled back adding life to her eyes, making them prettier. She was wearing hip jeans, made for a body like hers, a disastrous idea for anyone with excess weight which nowadays was, like, everyone. While preparing for her task she'd frequently bent down exposing the cleavage of shapely butt cheeks with just a remaining tinge of blue skin. He liked the sight of it, stared absentmindedly at it, because she was the most interesting thing in the room, everything else devoid of inspiration: the windless banner in the doorway limply advertising the price of treatment, the cheap Chinese fan in a corner rattling faintly, the customary Balinese mask with bulging eyes on the green paint blistering wall, even the looped gamelan music coming from a silver painted speakerbox sitting on a black couch with leather cracking at the edges.
Now she turned her head up, as if remembering something. Looked at him inquisitively. Fuck. He knew that look.
Siapa nama? You name?
John, he lied. She couldn't pronounce his name anyway. John was convenient, expected, inconsequential.
You? He cared as much as she pretended to.
Mah-deh. Sure. Meant something like first born, or second born, and so on. Read about it. Couldn't remember the correct order. Stupid system. After the fourth child they started the whole naming system all over again. Imagine that, your fifth child would have the same name as the first. He smiled, repeating the name. Made. She smiled, bowed her head and scooped water over his ankles with her long, strong, perfectly formed fingers.

Made

2011-02-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

Made was talking to Wayan when Sari called her for a foot massage. Sari'd just given some guy a haircut. Military style. Really the only one she knew how to. Foreigners liked it because it was hot, temperature-wise that is. This guy no different and all the same to her—the new foot bath specialist. She didn't like giving foot baths, but bills needed to be paid and Ketut had gotten her pregnant again. Hopefully a girl this time. Wayan was a handful. Always getting in trouble as boys do. Girls were easier. She could've gone to Kuta, work in a hotel come home weekends. The money'd been better. In Ubud most jobs were taken. She didn't want to end up walking up and down Jalan Raya Ubud with her breast hanging out, baby in a sling, tot teetering behind her, holding out her hand because Ketut had crashed their moped, hurt his foot and lost his job waiting tables up on Jalan Tegallalang where tourists stopped to photograph rice terraces, where the government had killed their business selling sarongs because they'd set up shop right in the middle of the padi. Seemed smart, but tourists complained. Wanted the view clear of business. Good luck with that! When the foot bath job had come along she'd taken it. The other girls had uniforms, she didn't. That's how shitty her job was. The Chinese boss had not even wanted to try her out, but Sari was getting older, fatter, didn't want to always squat anymore. Learned to cut hair. Badly, but the foreigners didn't complain. To them Bali was cheap. She looked up at the guy's haircut. Uneven, like she expected. Caught him looking down her blouse. She smiled. Not much there with her knees pressed against her chest.
She should say something. Make small talk. They tipped you for that Sari said. Easy for Sari. Chatted all day long. She only knew five words. Then Melati. Had come from Bandung. Spoke Ingris so easily. Even had foreigner boyfriends, because she was Catholic she could. One Australia. One UK. One America. If true! She never shut up about it. Not much else to talk about anyway. Boyfriends! She never had one, except Ketut, but they knew each other from the Banjar. Didn't even date. Just marry, then pregnant and now again.
Siapa nama? You name?
John.
Sure! John. Most common name, like Made or Ketut.
Melati walked in, finished massage. Going out for a smoke, sit on her moped, talk to tourists, saying, How about relaxing massage, everything included? Winks, laughs. Javanese girls are easy, especially Bandung, is what she says. You'd believe it, how she brings them in by the elbow and she's not even a woman. Had sex change in Singapore but hair on her lip keeps growing back. Still prettier than Sari. Chinese boss thought Melati be good for business. Tried her out. Many tourists like happy ending. Maybe this guy John too.
You try, she said. Melati very good. Many come back for her.
I bet, he said, but she didn't know what that meant so she smiled and scooped water over his ankles.

Imagine the Savings!

2011-02-19T00:53:00.000-08:00

I've decided to operate more like a company, so today only I will have tomorrow's thoughts, opinions, ideas, and gastrointestinal production available at 30% off. What are you waiting for? Get ahead of the curve!

Terimah Kasih

2011-02-14T03:57:00.000-08:00

As I write this I'm having a foot massage. I hesitated writing "Balinese" foot massage, because whatever that would be, that's not what this is. I've had better in Thailand and Vietnam. I can't blame the young man pretending doing his best right now with stealthy glances at the clock, and I can't blame the blasé tourists for having jacked up the prices of everything except bottled water and laundry. Unlike the Thai and Vietnamese the Balinese simply don't have to work that hard anymore to earn our business. There's simply too many of us foreigners here, even in the off-season.
Another thing that may play a roll in my assessment of the pussyfooting I'm undergoing is the love that's going around. Of course, one cannot consider that necessarily a bad thing, especially if you're coming from the US, where it's merely a word, not a practice to be bestowed on your fellow (wo)man. That's definitely different in Indonesia, where the word for love, "kasih," even made it into the expression for thank you: terimah kasih. Indeed, respect for your neighbor, or the person next to you, is a basic law that governs all interaction and by extension all living things although dogs seem to be largely exempt, probably due to some karmic curse they'll just have to live with in their current incarnation.

Which brings me to today's cremation ceremony, part of which I witnessed earlier. Two huge, black, paper bulls with a single man on top were being carried on large, heavy platforms of thick bamboo poles, followed by another one with a tall, ornately decorated tower of paper and wood. Hundreds of strong men carry the platforms down the main street and up the road to the temple. Three distinguished gentlemen, their framed pictures carried in front, were dug up for the event and placed inside the paper structures for violent jostling and water hosing (the latter courtesy of the Ubud fire department, leading the procession with spouting water canon). The purpose of all this is to confuse evil spirits that might otherwise come along for the ride to the afterlife. The three gentlemen's earthly journey will end this afternoon in purifying flames.

Watching this circus the question forms: "What do we do it all for? What's the purpose of life? My life?"
Of course, we like to think that it is oh so valuable, that what we do has merit, because in the short run we provide for shelter and food, and in the long run for our offspring and/or old age. The work we do, the women and men we live with, the compromises we make, our defining decisions, none of it is so significant that it can't be contained in a moment's reflection, and none of it provides an answer.

In reality, we do not matter. Oprah doesn't matter, Obama doesn't matter, Osama doesn't matter, the Pope doesn't matter, green energy doesn't matter, eating organic doesn't matter. Nothing matters. You don't matter. I don't matter.
It doesn't even matter that that's the secret we're never told, but deep inside we've known this for quite a while, and it probably has depressed many in a society that's all about entitlement, success, and self promotion.
Of course, ours is to live the life we aspire to, but unfortunately we trade-in dignity, trade-in time for money, and money for more and more stuff, often acting as not much more than an extension of various powers and corporations that thrive on our proclivity to belong to something greater than ourselves, whose badges we wear proudly, from the nation's flag to Abercrombie & Fitch and BMW gear, or, as I see here sometimes, one can have nothing, but still have one's dignity.

Death will come to us all, either we're fallen angels or distinguished members of the community. In the mean time (I say silently to the young man holding my foot in his hand), put your heart and soul into what you do, and if you don't like what you do, find something else that you love doing, because when you find love in what you do it doesn't matter what it is. Love, in any form, will transcend beyond the limitation of life span. Things that have been preserved from the past, art, buildings, poetry, teach us that love for someone's trade can turn into something that is tangible, and when you are touched by it, you smile and form the words in your language for "Terimah Kasih."

Outsider Insight

2011-02-11T17:36:00.000-08:00

A good portion of my life I've been an outsider. It's a position I'm familiar with ever since I moved as a ten year-old from a small village in Holland to the big city: Amsterdam. Playing cowboys and Indians changed abruptly into kissing girls and fighting boys from the street behind mine for territory.
Often there's fighting involved, either physically or mentally, to change one's outsider status to that of insider. In Amsterdam I fought one battle after another, making my mother doubt the wisdom of moving right after my father had died, as she sewed back on buttons some kid had ripped off my shirt.
But what was done couldn't be reversed. I was being called names on the street and made fun of in school for being a farmer's boy, which I wasn't. Tell that to the big city folks who look at anyone not from a big city as having been yanked out of the mud. Stereotypes abound. I fought them all, and increasingly with my tongue, which proved mightier than the proverbial sword, as I found that I could cut down bullies just by making the girls in class laugh. But even that was a delicate dance I found out one day when the class bully knocked over my ink well on purpose after which I punched him in the grimacing face as he turned around to savor the sight of the spill.
"I'll get you for that," he said, the sound muffled by his hands trying to stop the flow of blood from his nose. "At 4."
All afternoon I trembled with fear. At 4pm I reluctantly and sheepishly surveyed the schoolyard from the school's steps. No one was waiting for me, except a skinny girl with glasses I'd barely noticed in class before. She said it was awesome what I had done and we walked direction home together. Turned out she lived in the street behind me, one her hero didn't dare enter without some buddies.
It was only years later that I begun to realize that all my fights had been for acceptance. That was shortly after I had floored a so-called friend in a disco who had the nasty habit of punching me in the stomach whenever I expected it the least. We'd lost track of each other after school, but when he suddenly stood in front of me on the dance floor, flanked by two girls, and stuck his hand out I bypassed it in a reflex and punched him in the gut. Not hard. Just for fun. He went down, turning into a heap of pale skin and awkwardly composited arms and legs. One of the girls snapped, "How could you? He just had a stomach operation!"
Karma's a bitch.
After that incident I changed my ways, at least to some extend. Physical altercations became a thing of the past. Instead I tried to understand others, rather than triumph over them intellectually or otherwise. I've not always been successful and my outspokenness has irked plenty of people who prefer to be treated with gloves. The losers.
Oops, there I go again.
Anyway, maybe I'm finally beginning to get it right. After Amsterdam I moved several more times, sometimes to other countries, sometimes to other cultures, like the office culture, teaching culture, the publishing world, the art world, the music world, exploring the artist in me, the musician, the writer, the businessman, always the outsider, at least at first until I earned some recognition for my efforts.
I still fight to understand what makes a place different, the people an almost different species, and alien habits and customs worth giving a try. I've now carried the fight to Bali, where I understand little, where the people are gentle and quick to laugh, where no one seems to want to sucker punch me, and most of all where they make me feel welcome as if they don't see a stranger in front of them, but just another person, another soul seeking acceptance. The hardening I've undergone for so long is almost reluctantly beginning to curl back, like the petals of a flower turning to the sun. Hawaii never did that to me, in spite of all the elements being present it's a tough world to break into. Maybe Bali can force me to surrender.
As the saying goes, it's not the man in the fight that counts, but the fight in the man. Right now I'm out for the count. What bliss!

Mendengarkan (listen)

2011-02-06T17:55:00.001-08:00

Listen. No, really, do yourself a solid with this one. Listen for a little while to nature itself. Mother Earth it's called. Spaceship Earth. Call it what you want, the void outside the window. Turn off any audio equipment, the air conditioner, the friggin' fridge, your freakin' phone, and listen. It's a symphony out there, or a cacophony if you will, of bird calls, chirping crickets, crowing cocks, burping frogs, and faraway barking dogs among a million other sounds down to the flapping of butterfly wings and the curses of dung beetles. If you listen attentively, all the noises our busy lives produce are filtered out by these natural sounds.
I just rediscovered this. Rediscovering is what Columbus did when he returned to America and found that everything had changed.
Like me, instead in Bali.
Recently, in Honolulu, a woman was arraigned in court for killing a peacock with a baseball bat. The free roaming birds in her compound interfered with Oprah and the commercials for hemorrhoids and one day she snapped. The prosecutor had no other laws he could invoke than cruelty to an animal, which she contested because the bird had died instantly. Her lawyer had entered a no-guilty plea for reason of temporary insanity. She was acquitted.
In a nutshell, that's the insanity I escaped, or rather exchanged for the sanity that is Bali, which is a crazy place. In our Western eyes cruelty to animals is despicable and rampant in Asia, where they eat animals we keep as pets. We always want to be the ones who know what's best, but we don't want to talk about a meat industry giant like Tyson because whenever their soon expiring drumsticks go on sale we scoop them up, addicted as we are to tranquilized poultry and drugged cattle that are butchered conveyor-belt style by human robots. It's easier to get upset about a few squatting sinewy Asian farmers next to a cage with yummy puppies at a village market as seen through some sweaty tourist's camera.
Westerners, and perhaps city folks in general are so removed from what living in a close-knit community and interacting with an immediate environment is like, that the fact that they breed loners with baseball bats and mentally challenged with access to guns, both slowly going berserk on slime squeezed into their living rooms and cars by lunatics like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh is merely an unwelcome side effect of the fact that we no longer know how to distinguish between separate realities.
Over here, in Ubud, where mopeds and motorbikes, cars and buses churn around Monkey Forest Road in an insane maelstrom of cacophonic noise and nauseating exhaust, you're always just a few steps away from the sounds of chattering schoolchildren on their way home from school, cackling geese, a fast rushing stream near the rice fields, a softly clanging bamboo wind chime, an unseen child practicing violin, and the symphony of silence I mentioned at the beginning. Quiet is an avalanche of sounds.
Just step off the road, listen, and you will be presented with your true sane self. You don't have to be in Bali for that, but somehow I forgot.

First Impressions Last

2011-02-06T17:54:00.000-08:00

What have I learned these first few days in Bali? First, the people are just wonderful, which I knew and which has drawn me to this island for a long time. They smile at every opportunity and I'm smiling back. Almost forgot how to, what a shame.
What I haven't forgotten after nearly twenty years is the language,and words and expressions are flowing back into my consciousness surprisingly effortlessly, as if I have been rehearsing them in my dreams. I'm very happy about that because knowing a language is the key to understanding everything. Not that I pretend that whatever few words I know are going to unlock the mystery that Bali is, but this afternoon I was joking with two waitresses in a small restaurant in the middle of the rice fields and one of them told the other that I was "lucu," or funny, and the fact that I picked that up gave a roundness to the afternoon, a sense that, like Monkey Kong, I had completed a level and maybe I can move one up. We'll see.
But, I'm noticing something that tourism has brought along: the people are less interested in their work. While before dedication went into everything they did, a more lackluster attitude has taken over. Yesterday I had to straighten a painting in the restaurant where I had lunch, which the waitress, who had been working there for five years, failed to notice hung lopsided. Seriously lopsided, or I wouldn't have bothered. There are other indications. In my bungalow there was no soap, no drinking water, and no mosquito coils present. At another restaurant table cloths were dirty and the forks bent. Yet, Bali is no longer cheap and compared to my previous stays prices have at least quadrupled. There's money being made, but at the cost of attention to detail. We all know, that's the beginning of the end.
Another thing I'm finding out is that people don't advance in position. For example, Arsana, who recognized me after twenty years when I returned to his place of work, is still doing the same. His boss should have made him manager a long time ago. He will die as a driver, groundskeeper, guest confidant, and repairman, all tasks younger men could be doing. Does he belong to a lower caste? Could that be the reason? I'll find out.
With the continuously expanding numbers of tourists Ubud's infrastructure is cracking at the seams. Literally. It's easy to imagine incapable administrators behind the potholes in the roads and sidewalks, both to be maneuvered with utmost attention. Why some of that tourist income is not being used to make improvements is a question even a child could come up with.
In a way I'm glad to see through the gloss quickly so as not to be romantically naive with Bali, as I probably was when I arrived in Hawaii 23 years ago. So, what am I going to do here one might ask, if I'm not going to be a tourist and can't stay unless I marry a local or commit a serious crime?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in a soothing breeze that carries hints of hibiscus, plumeria, and coconut. Why, I've stood at the same crossroads before, inhaling the same intoxicating mix of perfumes...

Sakit

2011-02-05T00:18:00.000-08:00

Today I'm "sakit." Sick. Don't know why. I just am. A few things may have contributed. Leaving, as the French say, "est mourir un peu," and they're not talking about "the little death."
In my case, the last month in Honolulu had been exhausting.

"Aren't you excited to go to Bali?" asked several friends who'd probably given an arm or a leg (not both, I know them) to up and leave in my stead. Indeed, several months in Bali doesn't sound so bad, not even to those living in paradise, as we Hawaiians like to call Hawaii. No, I wasn't excited and I didn't know even how that feels anymore, living in today's world of unlimited possibilities and fast jet travel. I already knew I could get there in little over 24 hours. It isn't exactly an undertaking like traveling around the world in a balloon, a papyrus raft, or a solar car. Thàt I'd be excited about.

In my case it was more a matter of getting it over with, the selling of broken belongings, the shredding of sensitive documents from my FBI informant days, the burying of loot under a tree somewhere I wouldn't forget. Indeed, these were all timed procedures, and if executed well within the timeframe I'd set for myself I'd automatically be ejected upon logistical completion.

But when that moment came I was depleted. Lacking a bed to sleep in I became dependent on the goodness of strangers. Well, not really, just a friend who's a little strange. So, when I boarded flight UA 873, or one with a similar sounding name, I'd become a little weak in the knees.
Imagine, the total weight of what was in my house had passed through my hands, from feather light to fucking heavy.

It began with an extreme allergy on the plane. Running nose, itchy throat, watery eyes. I knew my immune system was, as Dick Cheney would call it, in its last throes, although who knows, it could have been its first throes.
Anyway, throes and throat were in cahoots. And my only weapon of mass destruction was an antihistamine bought at an airport shop in Bangkok, manufactured by an American company I'd never heard of, but luckily extensively tested on animals that had experienced side effects such as vomiting, headaches (how'd they know?), and stomach ulcers. Aren't humans animals too? If you want you can get away with anything.

Long flight short, in a mini bus on the way from Denpasar airport to Ubud I had become physically frail, just no spitting image at all of my former robust self. When Trishna, the driver to whom I had been serenading all the Hare Krishna songs I know--realizing my mistake when he handed me his card later--made a wrong turn into Monkey Forest Rd, I knew the end was near. My end, not the trip's, as throngs of cars, moped, buses and walking tourists were reinventing American politics gridlock in traffic form. Maybe the word even comes from that, but who knows (for sure)?
By that time it had become abundantly clear that the nasi goreng I'd quickly eaten at the airport may had something to do with the worsening of my situation, but being forced to suck it back up my spine while stuck in traffic was contradictory to what my body was telling me, and I translate liberally: Mon, let's get the fuck to a toilet! Like, NOW!
Well, I couldn't obey nature's call. To my own credit I did run a few scenarios where I'd kick the door open, rush past a coffeeshop counter straight to the bathroom and exploding in privacy, but none of them seemed, well, doable without getting arrested less than an hour of touching down in Denpasar.
So I held it.

The body is a strange thing that we inhabit. We know our bodies to some extend, like we know it has a backside, but when was the last time you examined it? My point is, there's all kind of things going on in our vehicle of which we are supposedly the captain, high and dry in the cockpit, that we have no clue about. To exhaust the analogy of the pilot further, here's a gal or guy, who knows what she or he's doing while kicking the tires pre-flight, while most of us have simply no idea what goes on in our ever forward moving mobile.
While awaiting arrival I had time to visualize the worst: rapturing spleens, collapsing kidneys, intestinal knotting, billowing bile, and for good measure, tide pools of puss, all clearly contaminated with hastily chewed nasi goreng that had not even tasted good (which should have been a clear indicator of its value as food and stopped me).

Anyway, by the time I completed my tight-assed walk to my bungalow and stuck the key in the lock with quivering fingers I had become fully aware of major damage to several organs, something that became even more obvious when I had to flush a few extra times...

And that was only the beginning.

All of today was spent in the greatest discomfort, just the Bali experience everyone thought I'd be so excited about, but the good news is that it's going to be better--eventually. If not, this may be the last post you'll ever read from me, but don't hold your breath. Better yet, do what I've been doing, hold your nose.

Father O'Blivion

2011-02-04T23:35:00.000-08:00

I considered myself lucky. The first leg of my flight from America I was given first class and for a while I was suspended in the deep, satisfying, oblivion airline brochures speak of. It wasn't free, but the bill would come later. However, on the following leg of my trip I'm sitting in steerage among the great unwashed, or rather the restless. In first class there's no need to get up, other than to go to the bathroom or just pass a fart because your co-passengers sit a mile away, but here, in coach, you get up just to be free. Free of your neighbor, free of the seat that instead of affording you comfort pains you left and right and pushes your head forward where it should be yielding back, so you can take a goddamn nap.
The elderly guy next to me has been elbowing me for at least an hour, shifting continuously in an effort to find comfort. I don't even try. I just sit and practice "discomfort control", a kind of yoga I developed over the years. I think its what fakirs on nail beds practice, a secret stance that allows one to bring most everything to a stop, except thought. Thought is what keeps me interested. I never quite understood the idea of meditation, where one would cease to exist, only to find oneself watching oneself from above, suspended in inertia. How boring is that? No, floating on one's thoughts, like right now provides the stuff stories are made of, or inventions, ideas that can't be swept under the rug of timelessness. Oh, yes, we're all one, but the old guy next to me expresses that by invading my space with his elbow. I don't want to be one with him. He sleeps with his mouth hanging open to one side and has one eye that stays open. Not pretty.
So, in a way you might say that coach creates more introspection than first class. So be it. Don't think there's much use for my thoughts but I write them down nonetheless.
Oh, now the old guy's awake and holding a Kindle. How about that! He has joined the digerati. Give him credit for that. Probably a gift from his granddaughter who otherwise wouldn't know what to get the old guy. Tell me about it. I'm totally Mr. Dig-it-all myself, iPod-connected, iPhone in pocket, plus a hard drive, camera, and this iPad I'm writing on, all in a small vest I'm beginning to love for allowing me to ditch the murse, the man-bag I otherwise would have to lug around.
All my gear is about the smallest currently available, and still it weighs a ton after 30 minutes. I'm dreaming of a iPhone 5, or 6, some future model Steve Jobs is probably perusing right now in his aqualung or whatever it is he waits around in while watching his own dialysis.
I'm so glad Steve Jobs doesn't meditate.

Steve Jobs is sick. I'm sure Matt Groening can't wait for his screen-test imagining future episodes of Futurama, where Steve can play a disembodied head next to that of Nixon (previous sentence is only for folks who know what I'm talking about). The future is already present in a world where prognosis and procrastination dictate a tomorrow where nothing is the way it was, or will be better, except for the gadgets through which we helplessly try to connect with ourselves and our base. It's all in vain. You may be Steve Jobs, brilliant and futuristic, but you're going to die yelling for your mommy, or god-forbid, Bill Gates.
What pathetic lives we live. And here, in the air, high above it all, of all places, we temporarily coexist in the vacuum of a pressurized cabin, shaped like a salami with barely more worth were we to hit the ground a little too hard.
I'm the first to admit that I have contributed little more to this world than helping populate it with one more inhabitant. Although I wish my son all the best, a rightful position in society, recognition for his talents, and gobs of love and happiness, our worth as a species has become highly questionable in my mind. We're all expendable and if not for some tv cartoon going to make fun of us years into the future we'll soon be forgotten, no matter what our accomplishments were.
And see, exactly those kind of thoughts I wasn't having in first class. That's why I considered myself lucky, no matter what class I fly. Oblivion to the rescue.

Bully

2011-02-04T22:40:00.000-08:00

Reflecting a bit more on the idea that in America violence is too often called on as a first response I like to touch on the current pending overthrow of the Egyptian government under Mubarak, a dictator who could only tighten his grip on society because the US was backing him to the tune of making his Israel-friendly regime the greatest recipient of foreign aid. Of course, in this case violence is not direct, but rather almost invisible as the people experience it by extension, by being subjected to harsh laws and treatment of their own government with the blessing of the US who sees no problem in selling Mubarak the teargas canisters as recently held up in a protester's hand, with the "Made in America" label clearly to see for the world.
When Saddam Hussein, another dictator buoyed by the US, started behaving as a bully, the US did little more than acting as a bully itself, trashing Iraq and killing tens of thousands of innocents, or causing their displacement, just to evict one bully from his throne by unleashing a shock and awe campaign the likes of which the world had not yet seen. I'm not saying Saddam was a nice guy, but he wasn't involved in flying airplanes into the World Trade Center. In response to 9/11 the US invaded Afghanistan after carpet-bombing it for weeks with daisy-cutter bombs. I'm not saying the Taliban are nice people, but they were not the ones flying into the twin towers and the Pentagon, and the one who supposedly was behind it was given a free ride to Pakistan, actions which are as questionable as the multiple reasons behind invading these countries rich in oil as they are.
Is there actually anything wrong with letting things be sometimes? Apparently, if you are the US, you cannot. All options are always on the table, including nuclear.
Just days before I left Honolulu I was in my almost empty house with my girlfriend when some bully tried to come in to "kick my ass." He was a big guy in his late thirties, overweight to the point of morbid obesity, who used his weight to shake the wooden house as he flung himself against the wall. I stood in the front room, holding a knife behind my back, calling 911 with my other hand, telling him he'd be a dead man if he dared come in through the screen door he had opened halfway. How did I get into that situation, and how did I get out of it?
One of the items I had posted on Craigslist was my Apple eMac. Someone had called me while I was away and I had rushed home to sell it to him. I had placed it on the floor, powered it up, and the start screen's blue light illuminated the now mostly empty room when the guy pulled up in a Hummer. I went outside to meet him. He seemed nice enough, wanted the Mac for his 5 year-old daughter, and paid me the money right away. I asked him if he didn't want to see the Mac as I had set it up for him. Just put it on the backseat he said, opening the door.
I don't know about this guy, I told my girlfriend after the transaction. I had a strange feeling about him, like when food in the fridge has been there a long time but still looks good, you know it's not going to taste fresh. He was off, with his weight, his Hummer, and his quick transaction. Something didn't smell right.
Close to midnight he called, not once, but 7 times. I missed the first call and was listening to the message he'd left when the next call came in. "You fucking prick, I'm going to rip your fucking head off and kick your fucking ass if you don't call me right back, asshole. You sold me a fucking computer that doesn't even turn on!"
We were already in bed. "Don't call him back," my girlfriend said. He sounds like he's drunk or something. Exactly my idea. Maybe he was high on meth. We went to sleep, but after I had mulled over the vulnerability I exposed us to by using a service like Craigslist. The next morning his Hummer was in front of the house and he called me out, using nothing but profanity.
When the police came he turned all soft, becoming the doting father, making me a Craigslist scammer, something the nice policeman on my front step seemed to give the benefit of the doubt to. How I wanted to resolve it? Me? For a while I remained the righteously wronged party, weighing my options to charge him with terrorist threatening, as suggested by the police who kept us at safe distance, until reason set in and I reached in my pocket and walked to the bully with the 100 bucks in my hand he had paid.
"You can have your money back, but only if you withdraw your threats in front of these policemen and promise not to come back here. If you do I will have you arrested."
We shook hands on it and he left. I didn't want the eMac back because apparently it had stopped working or not and he didn't know how to turn it on, and I didn't want to see him back with his particular style of dealing with people. I didn't feel good about the deal, but sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and I reasoned I'd gain a lot more by making him go away.
Did I want to follow him and burn his house down with everyone inside? Of course, because I was mad and full of revenge, until it dissipated.
The thought I'm having today is that a big country like America can also hold a knife behind its back, but you don't always have to start stabbing and burning houses down with inhabitants whose fight it isn't.
My girlfriend said that even bullies have a code, a code of the street, and that our handshake meant something to him. Maybe she's right. I was glad she was there to give him a bit of a human face. That's something that seems to be absent in congress every time America is called out by a stupid, simple minded bully.

Bali

2011-02-04T22:14:00.000-08:00

The first surprise I had in Bali was one that sent me straight back to the airport building I had just walked out of. Apparently the money I had kept from my previous visit was no longer current and one of the money changers whose soliciting I had earlier waved off by saying, "Sudah ada uang," or, "I already have Indonesian money" quickly painted on a smile when I stuck out a hundred dollar bill. Rp 8,700.000. Already I was getting 200,000 less than in the street, but the street was just what I had been negotiating a few minutes earlier with the cab driver, or rather, the distance from the airport to Ubud.
Of course, I could've gone to Kuta for a few days, which would've been cheaper, but its hustle and bustle plus looking for accommodation at a time when thousands of Chinese had descended on the town to celebrate Chinese new year, not to mention hordes of beer-guzzling Australians, wasn't my idea of reacquainting myself with Bali.

Big flying black ants were.

These appeared to have overtaken the room I'd rented across the river just outside of Ubud when I turned the light on for a midnight trip to the bathroom. The bathroom itself had attracted me when I inspected the small bungalow I had rented many years ago at Taman Indrakila, a place with a stunning view of Ubud's surrounding landscape. The bathroom had a completely open window with access to a small pool in which tiny fish lived whose job it is to eat the eggs mosquitoes lay in the water. Earlier I had enjoyed a cup of coffee on my veranda as a worker swept the grounds and I let the sounds and sights seep back into a region of myself the Indonesians have a single word for, "senang," meaning something like "a feeling of universal happiness, of being at ease with one's surroundings."
I was, until the flying ants turned up.
Not that I was too dismayed. They're Balinese and I am the invader of their territory by definition, but that rationale didn't make mankind advance to the top of the food chain, but starting the eradication of a swarm of unknown proportions seemed futile in advance. After I determined they weren't the biting kind I went back to bed.

I got up at 6, just when the sun began airbrushing heavy low hanging gray blue clouds with bursts of orange against which palm trees formed black quick-scissored paper cutout shapes. As I watched this "pemandangan," or landscape, a young Balinese woman appeared and placed a can with tea on the table in front of my bungalow.
"Selamat pagi."
Good morning Bali.

Wild West Exit

2011-02-03T15:42:00.000-08:00

Today I exited the United States, and perhaps for good. Next time I may return as a visitor. For a long time I have not been happy with America's politics, neither at home nor abroad, as it seems that no matter which political side is in power, war, economic mismanagement, and disregard for human life is the norm, even if those are US citizens (not talking about crazy abortion activists). It's now a fact that foreign war efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan approach an involvement lasting twice as long as WWII, with new war plans being concocted by the Pentagon that seek to control strategic oil reserves, strategic mineral mining, and as usual, supporting regimes and dictators that treat their citizens in ways supposedly contradictory to how the US treats its own citizens, but in actuality are more similar than different, which may explain it. The gradual militarization of the US, by way of militias and their spokespeople, the emergence of the Tea Party, idiots like Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck being taken serious, and laws that allow citizens to carry weapons, even to political meetings where the president appears or the recent carnage in Arizona reflect more the days of the Wild West than a society that has developed into a peaceful and emphatic body, seeking solutions for problems of magnitude that threaten the health and very future of the Nation, unless one remains stoic about the oncoming changes in weather patterns, rising sea levels, river levels, and the resulting mass migrations as areas fall victim to flooding, erosion, and loss of industry and livelihood.
Not many seem concerned with that as most limit their already clipped attention span with what's being discussed by Oprah, or Whoopy, or Glenn Beck, that is, if one's not too busy twittering or facebooking, both the epitome of self-congratulatory backslapping nitwittery, and hardly indicative of sharing ideas worth pondering.
And so, feeling increasingly isolated, misunderstood, ridiculed, and disappointed in the direction things are heading I could only come to one conclusion: sell everything, hop on a plane, and make a fresh start elsewhere, perhaps ahead of the throngs...
And so, writing this finds me on a plane heading for Indonesia, a destination presented by destiny on a day when I learned of the end of my home's lease as well as of a friend's offer to dwell a while in her house in Bali, which would become available around the same time.
I am not expecting to find Shangrilah there, rather just a different place with different people, different customs, and possibly a different view of a world I was seeing more and more through pin holes in the blinders worn by the quintessential ugly American, a glutinous, obese, natural resource-devouring, multinational predator with a disdain for the French, Europeans, Russians, Africans, Asians, and Arabs, maybe even the Dutch, all of whom have either tasted its nuclear recipe or at one time or another have been deemed welcome to swallow it in the form of imagining their country turned into a parking lot. Let's say that the tough cowboy image America is relentlessly exporting was beginning to wear me down and I didn't want to end up like so many others, beaten down by bad news, seeking comfort in gated communities, watching cable shows and late night commercials selling more of the useless crap that's already oozing out of people's houses, finding refuge in giant self storage buildings springing up everywhere.
Oh, but wait, I did enlist a friend's help and squeezed a few boxes with photographs alongside the unused belongings he has stashed in storage for a modest monthly rent a third world family could live a whole year on. Much appreciated!
Other than that, everything else I own now fits in the overhead bin of the flight I'm on and under the chair in front of me. Oh, and I'm wearing a Scottevest, a piece of american ingenuity: a garment with 22 pockets that serves as a digital knapsack containing besides the iPad on which I type this, a 1Tb hard drive with all my personal and business files, pocket camera, iPhone, passport, a few thousand dollars in cash, and an inflatable neck pillow.
I know, it's not as romantic as being a young wide-eyed sheep herder in Paulo Coelho's Siddharta-like novel of travel, destiny, and fate, "The Alchemist," but we'll see how this turns out. I do know that all the trappings of a space age roman are here: ship adrift, new galaxies, black holes, and who knows, the chance to save the world and mankind, now that everyone else seems too preoccupied with doing nothing of the sort.
Yeeha!

The onanistic experience...

2010-02-05T11:47:00.000-08:00

After using Facebook for over a year I must conclude that it seems to heavily facilitate fostering relationships based on congratulatory responses, the absence of which—or expressed as critical commentary—results in discarding those that threaten the desired onanistic experience in which one's ego is constantly stroked in abbreviated outbursts of riskless and reciprocated approval.

Does pointless pandering for acceptance serve to silence doubts and dialog about our selfish and gluttonous behavior, questionable ethics, disastrous desire for wealth, and blatant disrespect for our talents and ability to create empathic relationships by recognizing our weaknesses and need for change and improvement?

Facebook reminds me of that castle under a spell, its inhabitants in a dream from which only a beautiful prince can awaken them. Oh, how I wish I were that prince instead of a frog...

You Sir, Are No Jimmy Carter!

2009-09-01T14:58:00.000-07:00

Yes, may the real Jimmy Carter stand up. The venerable ex US President Jimmy Carter recently declared himself severed from the Southern Baptist Convention, an organization that couldn't distance itself any sooner from its past attitude towards slavery than 1995.

I pity those that need the words of Jimmy Carter to wake up to the notion that rational thinking is the enemy of religion and believe itself. Had he gone one step further he might as well have condemned the "Holy Scriptures" of the world as having been written by men if not perhaps with the singular aim to control women, but to enslave mankind itself with silly tales of virgin birth, talking snakes and burning bushes, all the way through to denying millions proper education, life-saving birth control, and the practice of free thought and freedom itself.
As much as I applaud Carter's long-delayed moment of clarity, the case for equality will not succeed as long as people are either born into a controlled environment of a singular belief system, forced to adopt one, or persecuted for having a different belief as these religions are more than cults, they have grown into massive mind-controlling powers that influence trade, governments, social life, and human interaction.
Carter's ascend to the club of Elders conjures up images of the wise men and women of the past who'd blow smoke up on youngsters' asses by relishing in the respect they hope to have earned by those that don't remember their youthful mistakes. So, yeah, we may listen respectfully when someone of stature makes an unexpected statement, like breaking with a splinter cell of the larger belief franchise, but until the same rationale is applied to those aspects of "Holy Scriptures" that don't (yet) fly in the face of currently fashionable conversation topics the liberation of women and logic will only pay lip service to those that hold the reins of the various clergies. By the very belief their foundation is based on they will delay any and all attempts to undermine it.
So, I humbly invite Jimmy Carter to put his thinking cap on once more and draw the only logical conclusion he can make when beginning to question why we need to be told what to believe by a "higher authority" that defies much, if not all, common sense, and when it comes to discrimination, decency.

GLAAD Slams 'Bruno'

2009-07-11T22:34:00.001-07:00

I went to see Brüno last night with my son and we laughed from beginning to end. Brüno does what many other comedies do, making fun of stereotypes, or use them to score a laugh. Sure, there will be anti-gay people lured into seeing this movie but it's them this movie makes fun of and they will only see themselves on screen.

As far as stereotypes go, gays are well aware of the kind of over-the-top Priscilla Of The Desert queen Brüno portrays, glimpses of which we recognize in Miss J (Tyra Bank's Next Top Model), or in some of Bravo's characters in Queer Eye, or Runway. Richard Simmons is another example of someone who takes "gayness" to the extreme and millions adore him and buy his tapes. You can hate Brüno and see him as someone who does a disservice to the gay community, but I think he succeeded in holding up a mirror to America and homophobia in general. As Brüno, Sacha Baron Cohen had the courage to even confront a known terrorist with his narrow minded world view. If anything, GLAAD should welcome the discussion and the opportunity to share their views, but making Brüno the bad gay, uh, guy only shows their lack of vision. At least Kazakhstan awarded Borat a prize for putting the country on the map...
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

All In Favor Of Many More Wars...

2009-06-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

U.S. law enforcement officials say that more than a third of the cocaine smuggled into the United States from Colombia travels in submersibles.

An experimental oddity just two years ago, these strange semi-submarines are the cutting edge of drug trafficking today. They ferry hundreds of tons of cocaine over the Pacific Ocean route for most northbound shipments.

So, if the government, administration after administration, remains in the business of protecting its citizens with a War On Drugs at the tune of $20 Billion a year, thereby acting preventively with concern for the health of its citizens, why not extend the same policy by implementing a War On Cancer, or a War On HIV, or a War On Obesity, or a War On Overpriced Medication, or a War On Stupidity, or a War On Greed, or... you get the idea. There are many threats to our health and well-being but we've seen that the government cannot and will not interfere on our behalf, which is why we're in the mess we're in, health-wise, economy-wise, and otherwise. So, I suggest to either abandon the selective "War On Drugs" concept or extend it to all areas related to our well-being.

Vietnam Defeats America's Paranoia With 80 Million Smiles...

2009-05-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

This morning we arrived in Vietnam. While I had arranged for a visa to Vietnam for our party of three, Tiger Airways snatched at the last minute our carry-on bags from us and put them in the baggage hold. Because of that two of my companion's visa photographs were not available as they were in one of the bags. So, instead of entering Vietnam smoothly new pictures had to be taken, and as we discovered, with one of the immigration officers' personal camera. The money he charged went into his pocket, and we have a bet that the pictures never made it onto the visa applications... Oh, well...

Saigon, as the locals prefer calling Ho Chi Minh City, is a testament to the Asian mindset to see oneself as part of a greater whole rather than as an all-important self-indulgent individual. As an example traffic, even when it merges into opposite directions, like rivers that meet and continue in different streams, is an organic experience where everyone sways, nudges, accelerates and yields in order to allow others to advance in their respective directions. Think of all the scooters, mopeds, trucks, taxis, buses, and other vehicles like fishes in a school of fish that swirls around in one big floating ball in the ocean. They never hit each other, and are in perfect harmony as they move. We quickly learned to calmly walk at intersections through dense throngs of traffic that flowed around us uninterrupted. In Amsterdam, New York, or Rome where every driver has an ego as inflated as their tires you'd be dead...

At the time of this writing we sit in a small hotel in some back alley in the old section of Saigon that's decent for the price and has WiFi in the room, in stark contrast to Singapore where WiFi was practically unavailable and hotel rooms are crappy and expensive. The streets below offer great food for those daring enough to sit with the locals on 2/3 size plastic chairs and sample dishes with unknown names and content. As a reward for all the walking, flying, waiting, and sleeping slumped on chairs in a Singapore airport Starbucks we topped our day off with a full body massage at a parlor we stumbled upon. Reminiscent of Thai massage, Vietnamese massage added a for us new twist with the use of heated stones and intense knuckling of the foot soles that would have Dick Cheney and Shaun Hannity cry "torture!"

While the day had started bright and sunny and soon turned the city into a hot pot, it ended with crackling thunder and a steady sheet of rain, and a very welcome cooling off of the air.

After a few days of Saigon we set out to Hoi-An by way of a slow train that started in the evening and got us there by following noon. We shared a small cabin with a young man and his toothless grandmother who turned out to be his mother. The Hard Sleeper was the only configuration available to us, having missed out on the one-dollar-more-expensive Soft Sleeper. Three bunks were lined up on each side, the middle one made with a hinge so it could be pushed up, allowing for the bottom dweller to have his upper neighbors join him. Through AC vents in the ceiling descended at times horrendously strong cold air. Alas, we saved on a night's hotel expenditure, traveled while sleeping, and got to see the landscape and occasional station or little village whenever the train stopped, which it did from time to time. We got into a few battles in the gangway with a conductor who insisted we keep the window up through which we tried to take some pictures. Supposedly, we could get injured by stones that children throw at the train. None of that happened and we defended our unwritten right as travelers to aim our cameras at whatever strikes us as interesting.
As the train wormed its way through the rice fields and over rusty brown rivers I couldn't help but be reminded of films and pictures in which heavily armed American GI's trudge through Vietnam's lush landscape.

When morning came the Hard Sleeper had turned into the more appropriately termed Sleeping Hardly. Yet, we arrived reasonably energetic because a train as opposed to a plane allows for the stretching of the legs, although a walk to the latrine must be strongly discouraged a few hours into the journey...
In Hoi-An we located a charming little hotel by the name Thanh Xuan, where we got 2 rooms with fabulous bathrooms for $32 a night. Not per room, per both. Shutters on the windows, towels folded into swans with orchids on the bed, and more orchids in the bathroom.
The Vietnamese may not display the same tranquility and sensibility the Thai have incorporated into their contemporary interior design and decor products, but on the human side they make up for it with sheer friendliness and perhaps even gratitude that you favor their place over other destinations. It quickly becomes obvious that their standard of living is a few notches below that of Thailand—a country that never endured a setback in terms of a national war.

One thing the American War, as the Vietnam War here is called, teaches me at this point in time is that in spite of its devastating defeat here America continues to cultivate its paranoia with regard to other civilizations, their culture, religions, and political systems by invading countries, establishing military bases, and seeking regime change by installing puppet governments, or flat-out waging war on its inhabitants without knowing much about them, their situation, or their sentiments. Surely, the Vietcong in its days was seen as an insurgency that had to be stopped fueled as it was by communist doctrine, but just as today's mislabeled insurgents often revolt against a government whose legitimacy it can't accept, the Vietcong were fighting for freedom and reunification of a country that had been butchered to pieces by the Chinese, the French, the Japanese, and finally by the misguided American resolve to halt the advancement of Kremlin communism through no other method than sacrificing Vietnamese and American lives.

So, today Vietnam is communist, or socialist, as it prefers to be called, and if it wasn't for the political posters and prominent displays of Ho Chi Minh's portrait and name you'd never know it. There are no troops on the streets and even police appears absent. People are friendly, quick to smile or laugh, or engage in simple conversation. Shops and restaurants are well-stocked and appear open to all, and people go about their business on mopeds, scooters, motorbikes, and cars just like in any other Asian nation, making comparisons between Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, or the Philippines easy to draw without Vietnam ending up any gloomier, disadvantaged, repressed, or impoverished in a way that points to a brutal socialist regime. In fact, its people enjoy universal healthcare at affordable rates, 4-weeks of state-paid maternity leave, and not a single person or situation we encountered hinted at a repressing government.

Over the years, I've seen several documentaries on American TV in which returning GI's were brought to tears as they realized that the Vietnam War had been waged upon a kind, hard-working, and forgiving "enemy." Some have banded together and collect funds to help establish hospitals or do other good work in an attempt at war reparations on an individual scale, while the US government still gnashes its teeth and makes war reparations conditional to the recovery of American MIAs, as if it's the Vietnamese fault they ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. In effect, the US still wields the threat of a trade embargo with Vietnam as a stick that lamely keeps beating its victor over the head, long after Hanoi has sought reconcilliation.

A young woman whom we met in Saigon declared that a recent viewing of a documentary about the American War had made her cry as she sympathized with victims on both sides. Indeed, one feels that for the Vietnamese life has moved on and that instead of lingering resentment about the past, the future, and a positive outlook based on understanding and acceptance is of much greater value.

We've met Christians and Buddhists, and learned that they and others can practice their religions freely. Successful business people flaunt their wealth with late-model Lexuses and BMW's and while such status may not be for everyone, in this nation of 80 million it appears that at the very least each citizen has acquired a bicycle, moped, scooter, or motorbike.
Again, the caricature commie bastards of America's paranoia propaganda machine, ready to devour the West and bring much-dreaded equality, universal health care, and socialism to our shores, turns out to be little more than a family of 4 on a single motorbike, or a mother with child on a scooter on their way to school, or a worker carrying items much larger and heavier than anyone would consider safe on his moped, or a student, a doctor, farmer, or just about anyone else going about their business, providing food, making a living, earning their keep, living a life much like you and me...

I'm not about to glorify or idolize Vietnam and the Vietnamese after a mere 10 days here, but it gladdens me to see that at first sight the country is vibrant and full of energy and that its people appear content, healthy, and industrious. Perhaps it pleases me extra that I finally get to enjoy the return on a small investment I made. Still a student, living off a scholarship I remember well the days of the Vietnam War as it played out on TV screens in my native Holland. My disgust for the incessant hammering of farms and villages by carpet-bombing B-52's and horrific images such as of the My Lai massacre and napalmed children running down a road prompted me to allocate a small portion of my meager allowance every month to Médecins Sans Frontières, or Doctors Without Borders, the humanitarian help organization that along with monetary contributions collected used eyeglasses, prothesis, shoes, and other things that they practically had to smuggle into Vietnam to aid the victims of war. Maybe that's why while I'm here and as people look me in the face and kindly ask me for the hundredth time where I'm from and what my name is and how long I'm staying I look back and patiently repeat the same replies rejoicing in the knowledge that it has all turned out okay in the end and that we can have a purpose in each others' lives.

So, as the day of my departure nears I allow myself new thoughts and impressions that replace those of days long gone. I think of America's new president, Barack Obama, whom I wish has the courage to face the CIA, Pentagon, and the US military complex, and steer a course clear from confrontation and the gargantuan greed and profit war and the cost of human suffering brings to those that heavily invest in it. The people of North Korea, Afghanistan, Iraq, Venezuela, Syria, Pakistan, or Darfur are in the end just like the Vietnamese, likely willing to fight for what they think is right, but even more so just mothers, fathers, children, grandchildren, babies, brothers and sisters going about their business as they quietly eek out an existence within the family of man...

The Obama Jugend Nazi Horde vs Fact

2009-04-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

By way of a friend landed a link in my mailbox that courtesy of The Voice (yes, that's the voice in your head) lead to the following headline:
Obama Youth Brigade: Church Attendance Forbidden
Below it, the author, Jonas Clark asks: "Is this the change you really voted for? President Obama has only been in office for two months. Now we have HR 1388. The Bill was sponsored by Rep. Carolyn McCarthy (D-NY) with 37 others. The Bill was introduced to the floor of the House of Representatives where both Republicans and Democrats voted 321-105 in favor.
This bill’s title is called “Generations Invigorating Volunteerism and Education” (GIVE). It forms what some are calling “Obama’s Youth Brigade.” Obama’s plan is require anyone receiving school loans and others to serve at least three months as part of the brigade. His goal is one million youth! This has serious Nazi Germany overtones to it."

Oh my, how could we not have seen it coming that Americans in their demure demeanor would vote a new Hitler into office? Surely, the writer has some strong arguments which I'll attempt to refute with facts. First, let's look at "Obama’s plan is require anyone receiving school loans and others to serve at least three months as part of the brigade."
Did you notice "and others?" That means everyone else. Is that in the Bill? No, it's not. Neither is the word "brigade." The Bill is about recipients of school loans and if you are one, the chance to spend 3 months in a pay-back scheme where the recipients volunteer for social, economic, and ecological government programs. Don't take out a government loan and you won't be part of GIVE.
As for some calling GIVE "Obama’s Youth Brigade," no one calls it that, except Jonas Clark and Glenn Beck (FEMA concentration camps), with help from the unhinged Michelle Bachmann, whose paranoia gave birth to "Obama's re-education camps." Indeed, Third Reich references abound in the extreme right's tempest in a teabag brain bonanza.

Clark continues: "The Bill would forbid any student in the brigade to participate in “engaging in religious instruction, conducting worship services, providing instruction as part of a program that includes mandatory religious instruction or worship, constructing or operating facilities devoted to religious instruction or worship, maintaining facilities primarily or inherently devoted to religious instruction or worship, or engaging in any form of religious proselytization.” Even though Clark tries to pass off the foregoing as a quote, it is in fact not wording as it appears in the Bill, and his simplistic conclusion, "That means no church attendance or witnessing" further destroys all validity with a false implication that is as terse as it is inaccurate.
Lastly, he asks, "Again, is this what America voted for?"
Well, no, America didn't vote this time for Jonas Clark's extreme right wing view of an America that tortures, suspends habeus corpus, promotes indefinite incarceration without trial, kidnaps foreign militants, starts wars, and wastes billions of taxpayers monies in shady deals with combatants and dictatorial governments.

Unfazed by reality Clark lists the offending parts of Bill HR 1388. Let's read along:
‘SEC. 132A. PROHIBITED ACTIVITIES AND INELIGIBLE ORGANIZATIONS.
‘(a) Prohibited Activities- An approved national service position under this subtitle may not be used for the following activities:
‘(1) Attempting to influence legislation.
‘(2) Organizing or engaging in protests, petitions, boycotts, or strikes.
‘(7) Engaging in religious instruction, conducting worship services, providing instruction as part of a program that includes mandatory religious instruction or worship, constructing or operating facilities devoted to religious instruction or worship, maintaining facilities primarily or inherently devoted to religious instruction or worship, or engaging in any form of proselytization, consistent with section 132.
‘(10) Conducting a voter registration drive or using Corporation funds to conduct a voter registration drive.

Yeah, I know that the religulous right regards Obama's presidency as the second coming of Hitler, and that the paranoia apparatus of the frequently wrong Christian Right is in overdrive, but misinterpreting this Bill only leads to the kind of distortion of facts Hitler's propaganda machine would have been proud of.
In fact, this bipartisan Bill (which has meanwhile been put into law) seeks to engage youth that receives government scholarships to pay back in sweat equity, much like the Peace Corp, or Bill Clinton's Americorp, from which it sprouted.

GIVE keeps religion (read: religeous fanatics) at arm's length while the participants are carrying out the duties they chose. They can engage in worship all they want, just not while on the government's "payroll." If I were paying an employee and he would forego his task by proselytizing I would have a problem with that too. Nowhere does it say Obama (Hitler II) wants to turn those that sign up (likely youths in their twenties or thirties, who'd like to serve their country, but not by joining the military) into mindless minions. As part of GIVE they are simply not supposed to engage in activities GIVE doesn't and cannot endorse, such as building a church in Africa, or teaching abstinence while withholding condom distribution to the poor, or linking receipt of medical services to participation in religious activities, for example.

While I applaud the newfound vigilance of those American people who were largely in a state of moronic morose during the Bush/Cheney fairytale times, holding Obama up to scrutiny should be done on the basis of facts. A simple tweak here and a slight distortion or insinuation there was exactly how the Nazis tried to manipulate the German citizenry and ultimately mobilize it with disastrous result. We have to be vigilant indeed and in that I side with Jonas Clark, but it cannot be done by pushing a different agenda and trying to fool your readers into believing the opposite of what words say. Words have meaning, and so do lies. Jonas Clark, you're a liar and I pity those that rely on you for information and are unable to see the forest of facts for the trees you put in front of them.

In Favor of Risk

2009-03-26T19:53:00.001-07:00

Tom Vander Ark, in today's Huffington Post, seems to make a case for less, rather than more, oversight of financial institutions, afraid that risk-capital may get sent overseas.
To quote: "The uniquely American combination of market capitalism, extraordinary universities, and risk capital--specifically venture capital and growth equity--are the engine behind a century of remarkable progress."

That may be so, but in my opinion that run has come to an end, not just because of the so-called toxic assets that Wall Street and banks dabbled in, but also because there are other forces at work as well, such as the melting of polar ice, global warming, rising waters, peak oil, mounting unemployment, and industries that continue producing crap that's not needed, nobody wants, and ultimately clogs our rivers and landfills.

His article is based on old-school thinking. There's not a new idea in it. It's typical for the ugly investor we no longer can trust.

Separating funds from morals has lead to a breach in the economic levees and the funds have been drained out of it, not because there was no oversight, but because an environment had come to exist in which bigger equaled better, and richer equaled more desirable. All that now looks silly and out of touch.

Risk capital fleeing to Asia is like water that seeks its own level, like big fish looking for a place to spawn. If he wants that capital to stay in America conditions will need to be created for new investment, not by lax oversight or lack of regulation, but by appealing to a different mindset than playing Russian roulette, knowing that the government will cover your risk in case you bet wrong.

So, while he's talking about risk as a virtue, Mr. Vander Ark seems unwilling to risk anything new. He simply assumes that the same kind of people will be back wanting more of the same. Mostly, he seems afraid. Not exactly the risk taking kind...

So, I'm not sure what it exactly is he's asking for. Venture capitalists can be as supportive of the new economy that will emerge as they want to be. If great American talent and opportunity is going to be skipped over in favor of foreign investment in same than so be it. If you want to preserve capitalism as the only (other) God, than be prepared for how it behaves, like an irresponsible, greedy, destructive, resource-devouring beast.

Perhaps now is the time to look at a better use of capital than purely squeezing profit from it. Money is a natural resource as well, in a way, that helps make things possible. Wonderful things, sustainable things, innovative things, that may nourish us and excite us without creating toxic by-products that smother the environment and in the end our dreams and hopes. Perhaps the new investor will look upon our efforts to recreate the economy with the brave foresight of the risk taker who sees not only opportunity and profit, but also understands that what we all want is to live in harmony. Yes, that investor may not yet have emerged, but those are the ones we're all waiting for. Who goes first?

About Taxes
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Oversight Of Financial System and The Right To Arm Bears...

2009-03-26T12:33:00.001-07:00

There are always folks that consider themselves "real" Americans in the way only a Sarah Palin will recognize that worm themselves into every blog thread with no regard to its topic, only to spew some vitriolic ideas 360 degrees.
Today, I encountered the following interruption of Geithner's economic discussion with the following remarks:
"Because of the violence in Mexico, Hillary is talking about banning assault weapons here in the USofA. Time for me to go out and purchase a few more assault weapons to add to my tactical weapons collection.
I have every right to defend my home against any and all evildoers. God Bless America, and God Bless our Troops."
To that I couldn't help but reply thusly: "Hey pal, you walked into the wrong discussion group. This one's about the economy. The creepy survivalist, kill-em-when-they-come, paranoid, fearful, big-mouth, finger-on-the-trigger, semi-fascist, neo-nazi, hiding-in-a-fox-hole, bunker-building, Timmy McVeigh-worshipping sad sacks discussion group is over to your far, far right, down the hall, in the basement. Be careful when entering and don't use the word "government" or you may get a load of your own fear fired at you by your com-patriots..."
I know, I shouldn't have, but hey, I carry ammunition too...

About Timothy Geithner
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Oversight Of Financial System Obama's Form Of Socialism?

2009-03-26T11:43:00.001-07:00

One recurring accusation of Obama's attempts to attach some strings to Bush/Paulson's plan to bail out overnight-no-longer-profitable mega corporations with tax payers money is that he has a socialist agenda.
I think it's so demagogue to accuse Obama of socialism. If one insists on the term though, consider that it was the Bush gang that decided to take people's money and throw it no strings attached at those that were bringing down the capitalist system. Essentially, it was Bush's form of socialism that was implemented. Obama et al are in the uncomfortable position to make sense out of a senseless act. The premise of capitalism is that companies survive and profit by competition. In my opinion, these companies failed and money is better spent on helping those that have become victims of this failed concept of profit without responsibility. All the pollution, fraud, bribery, and political control that these mega conglomerations have effected is now old-school. Forward thinking is needed that takes into account our well-being and the health of ourselves and the planet. All those that are now losing jobs and homes would be well served if innovative measures are equally applied to the taxpayers that are in distress and whose funds are being taken without any say on their part. I'd call that fair, but some may call it (a form of) socialism, because at the basis the idea of fairness scares them.

About Timothy Geithner
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Facebook And Kids: Yet Another Parents' Nightmare...

2009-03-22T12:37:00.001-07:00

Kari Henley writes on Huffingtonpost that she recently joined Facebook, so she "could track her kid's antics like a sneaky James Bond spy." Now she is hooked, but claims she uses Facebook a bit different than her kids do (like, for exchanging recipes), and that plenty of kids are getting addicted, use it for bullying, or to say things they would never in person. She's worried there have been many reports of teen suicide from internet related bullying.

Bla bla bla. Here's your typical out-of-touch American parent getting all nauseous as they always do about their pampered but grossly misunderstood litter.

The rest of her article is all about fear of this and fear of that. In spite of her claim of having done research for the article she doesn't appear to know that there have been NO suicides, except one traced to a mother() bullying a kid. She even goes into at what age a child's brain is fully developed with the premise that kids underdeveloped brains can't cope with the modern world...

Puleeze!

Kids are fine and will pick their fights based on what they can handle. They are way ahead of adults when it comes to how they communicate, either parents like the ways in which they do it or not. They have this "new" technology long figured out before parents have. The main point is that parents don't need to play cyber police if they have crafted a good relationship with their children. Many adults act either dismissive or overly protective when it comes to their kids. Let them talk from early on and listen to what they say and respond in an adult manner. Adults often shut kids up since way back when baby's blatter sounded just like goobely-doobely. To baby that's exactly how you sound! Treat kids early on like persons and not like fairies by painting them an innocent pink or blue wonder world occupied with choo-choos and horseys.

I recall when my baby first ventured up the stairs. The women present panicked. I calmly grabbed his ankles and let him go further, then backtracked, and repeated going forward and backward until he "got it." From then on he could not only to go up but also come down safely. That's teaching trust. Yanking him off the stairs is not.

If you're concerned about that big mean world out there then act like animals do and prepare your offspring for it. All the self-indulgent "concerned" psycho-babble of Kari Henley shows her disconnect, which is all too common. Simplify your thinking. Avoid cliché babble like "How was school?" and don't accept cliché replies. Get to know your kid by communicating in an adult manner since day one and you will have an adult relationship. You reap what you sow. Your children are a reflection of you.

About Facebook
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Limbo The Clown Now Official Mascot Of GOP...

2009-03-08T20:36:00.001-07:00

Just when you think the country cannot be any further in limbo and along comes Limbo "The BOMBastic Radio Clown" (pictured here before he let himself totally go and turned into a bag of lard). Let's not waste time on discussing the language on his balloons. He drove into the circus ring in a cardboard car and is now doing a fine job of laying a fuse under the Big Bloated Elephant pinata and doesn't need any help turning it into confetti. Go Rush! (Applause)

About Celebs Talk Politics
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Emmanuel Rahm calls Rush Limbaugh "The Voice, Energy And Intellect Of The GOP"

2009-03-01T15:42:00.001-08:00

Rahm Emmanuel is right. It's clear that in absence of a vision the GOP has its conservative action strategies dictated by media clowns like the ever-ballooning Rush Limbaugh and the heartless, meatless, and bloodless Ann Coulter with their obnoxious late-term lovechild Jonathan Krohn—who escaped being thrown away with the bloody bath water of so many Republicans trying to wash off the death and destruction brought on by their support for Bush, the waffling self-proclaimed "Decider" and his paranoid policies.

It would actually be funny as a Republican sideshow of thick-skinned ruddy-faced elephants and their adorable pink offspring, were it not that the evidence from the last eight years teaches us that the ad-nauseam repeated sound-bite rhetorical phlegm production they trumpetted as proof of brain activity has delivered nothing for the economy, the environment, and the well-being of a changed America. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. These self-described conservatives conserve little else than the nostalgic notion that they are the fossilized godzilla guardians of little more than the idea that the Sixties were America's finest hour.

I'd say, let this public circus of worn-out slogan slingers and dapper Don Quixotes parade all it wants as it blindly beats a noisy path into the nocturnal and dank dawn-less forest where old dogmas die under the applause of one hand clapping, and let its historical grandstand linger on in fitful dreams of a return to dictatorial days by the Hannitys, O'Reillys, and Malkins that drunk with absent power have fallen off the political relevancy bandwagon...

You can neither fight windmills nor windbags.

About Rahm Emanuel
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

The Obama Watermelon Email Case

2009-02-27T13:34:00.001-08:00

So, the Republican mayor of Los Alamitos, a small Southern California city of 12,000, says he will resign after being criticized publicly for sharing an e-mail picture depicting the White House lawn planted with watermelons under the title "No Easter egg hunt this year."

The news reports that Grose says he accepts that the e-mail was in poor taste and has affected his ability to lead the city. Grose added that he didn't mean to offend anyone and claimed he was unaware of the racial stereotype linking black people with eating watermelons...
Yeah, right...

This goes back to parenting. You reap what you sow.
Prejudice is always wrong. Discrimination is useful to discern between green and yellow lights, but wrong when coupled with racial prejudice.
Everybody is racist to a degree, and racial jokes are the great equalizer between cultures that will never disappear or put Chris Rock out of a job, so recognizing that and being sensitive to other people's perception should prevent one from applying humor ignorantly in a hurtful and disrespecting manner (unless everyone can laugh about their own bias).

If someone who is not too smart chooses public life, gaffes, like Bush mentioning his Filipino chef to the Philippine president, are bound to happen.
Apology accepted, lesson learned.
Bush didn't step down, and nobody called for it. This mayor therefore must be smarter than Bush by a brain hair...

Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Brave New Economy

2009-02-22T00:37:00.000-08:00

And so we suddenly find ourselves in a new economy. It's not that we didn't see it coming, it's that we didn't want to see it coming. Smart people have been warning us for years, holding up charts and papers filled with calculations and scientific data.
Now we're wrong and they were right. But that no longer matters, as on the tombstone that reads, "He had the right of way..."
We're screwed.
As an entrepreneur I see the effects firsthand of the paralyzing scare that has the world in its grip. My sales have tumbled 60%-70%. Imagine that, suddenly having to make do with 30%-40% of your regular income...
I try to be proactive, like any sensible person, and have started to reduce costs on subscriptions, services, and generally everything that now weighs on me and my business financially.
I created a special website with Free Shipping items. Some have noticed, and placed orders. One of my other websites now advertises "Free Shipping On Orders Over $100." Again, some are taking advantage of that, but it hasn't helped sales and now I'm paying for shipping too, thereby reducing profit substantially.
I don't mind. Better poor than broke.
I will continue to do what I can to keep myself afloat financially, and I bet so will you.
But...
I have yet to see any gestures from the companies that matter in our lives.
The credit card companies haven't cut their exorbitant interest rates.
When I turned in my cable TV tuners, thereby cutting my cable bill 60%, Oceanic Cable, whose customer I've been for nearly twenty years didn't say, "what can we do to keep you as our loyal client?"
In fact, as I went about canceling services, none of the companies asked for a reason, or tried to retain me as a customer.
They don't need us? Well, I found I do just fine without them, and I guess this is the basis for survival—to be able to get by with just the essentials.
If we're all going to hell in a handbag, it is because we refuse to acknowledge what's coming and fail to draft a Plan B. It's for lack of vision.
Businesses that postpone finding solutions until they realize that without customers they don't have a company are screwed.

Credit Crisis For Dummies (That's Me...)...

2009-02-21T23:57:00.000-08:00

The Crisis of Credit Visualized from Jonathan Jarvis on Vimeo.

In the midst of this malaise, Jonathan Jarvis deserves credit for making a complex issue easy to understand.

Winning Words...

2009-02-19T19:25:00.000-08:00

"What has happened in technology over the last few years has been about the downturn, not the future of technology. A lot of companies have chosen to downsize, and maybe that was the right thing for them. We chose a different path. Our belief was that if we kept putting great products in front of customers, they would continue to open their wallets." - Steve Jobs, August 2003

Entertainment?

2009-02-18T15:51:00.000-08:00

Shoot The Messenger...

2009-02-17T11:34:00.000-08:00

One of today's BBC World News headlines reads: "US Muslim TV boss 'beheaded wife'"
The founder of a US TV station aimed at countering stereotypes of Muslims is charged with beheading his wife.

Muzzammil Hassan, 44, is accused of second degree murder of Aasiya Hassan, whose body was found last week at the TV station in New York state.
Both Mr Hassan and his wife worked at Bridges TV, a station aimed at countering stereotypes of Muslims.
Bridges TV, a satellite-distributed news and opinion channel, was founded by Mr Hassan in 2004 and was based in a suburb in Buffalo, in upstate New York.

Woman Freaks Out...

2009-02-16T23:59:00.001-08:00

The original headline read: "Chinese Woman Freaks Out In Airport, Gets 600,000 Hits On YouTube"

An innocent headline to many, but I see ignorance rearing its ugly headline. If the woman had been Caucasian, would the headline have read, "Caucasian Woman Freaks Out?"

Now, I know that Chinese is a group, and not a race, but tell that to my Chinese ex-wife...

The woman was not identified as a Chinese national, but as someone looking and sounding Chinese. She could have come from anywhere. So, let's rewrite the headline accordingly:

"A Mongoloid Woman Freaks Out."

Better?

Some anthropologists would argue that there are only three races: Negroid, Caucesoid, and Mongoloid. Thomas Huxley introduced the term "Mongoloid," based on the physical characteristics of Mongolian people, but included American Indians as well as Arctic Native Americans, Laplanders, the Finnish, Eskimos, and Pacific Islanders, but ultimately "Mongoloid" was widely adopted to mainly include the people of South-East Asia, and we recognize Eskimos, American Indians, and Polynesians as different races.

More recently, the Human Genome Project stated unequivocally that "races" do not exist in any biological sense... I'd agree with that more than the tendency to divide people based on their physical appearances. My point is that in the U.S., where race is often mentioned as a distinct feature that typifies the behavior of a group, Caucasians are often excluded from this bias when it comes to the news and their skin color or racial origin is seldom if ever mentioned.

Therefore, "Caucasian Woman Freaks Out," is an unlikely headline in a country where people have grown accustomed to think in racial terms when looking at someone...

Therefore, "Woman Freaks Out," would have sufficed, but I doubt it would have garnered as many YouTube views...

Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Obama Beats Bush By Using His Brain...

2009-02-16T19:15:00.000-08:00

No, kiddos, not by using Bush's brain, or Karl Rove, but by using his own. In sharp contrast to George W Bush, who used to sign off quickly on troop requests from his commanders without giving it much thought, Obama appears to be taking his time pondering a request by the Pentagon for three Army combat brigades and Marine units for deployment in Afghanistan.

While I personally have my doubts about even the possibility of success with the stated objective of militarily ridding Afghanistan of the Taliban, especially now that the scoundrels seem to become more active in Pakistan, the reality is that the US has a military presence there, but its activities have been hampered with inadequate troop levels, due to obligations in Iraq and minimal support from foreign nations, as the results of the Bush gang's shortsightedness.

Obama is challenged by his predecessor's ineptness to finish what he started in a way that has failure already written in big capitals into the equation. If US troops are perceived as staying too long in Afghanistan it will be served up by the Republicans in huge scoops as failure. If he gets the troops back home before scoring any big successes he will be perceived as failing to stand up to terrorism. Ultimately, his fate rests with an American public that hastily gave Bush another term to get the job done—at which he failed miserably.

A real problem is that America has not won any of its wars in a long time and Desert Storm I was just a prelude to Desert Storm II, not because of the military which just does what it does best, but because of politicians that use it to manipulate a public that has been hammered into a crouched position with fear tactics. These are not wars, they are police actions, or rather cleaning operations in countries the US has no business being or staying in. I hope that Obama realizes that these so-called wars are undeclared and illegal acts of war. Bush went it alone (oops, forgot Poland and Palau) and Obama will have to douse the fires the Bush gang started.

That the GOP, after fanning the flames, now have adopted a strategy of obstructing Obama's efforts tells me that they're not interested in anything but playing politics at the expense of US soldiers and foreign civilians—unless one thinks we're behaving smartly and without incurring wrath by killing Muslim people—always conveniently labeled "terrorists"—by sending drones equipped with missiles from one souvereign country into another. As a video game it may seem engaging, but as a solution to the problem of extremist Islam it's contra-effective. Mind you, this all started with 3,000 people losing their lives on 9/11. Hundreds of thousands of dead later see where our politicians have taken us... Indeed, the people will have to choose for a solution, but they just did that by electing Obama. It is my hope the majority understands that the mess Bush en co. created may not be cleaned up in 4 years. The GOP's obstructionist stance is reprehensible and shameful. We may have thought that by Bush's leaving office the nation ridded itself of the effects of his brain. The crushed GOP, it turns out, while unable to even utter Bush's name, can't come up with a single constructive thought and is still using his rambling brain for its thinking...

The Greatest Crime Ever Committed...

2009-02-11T05:47:00.000-08:00

In the months leading up to Obama's inauguration the criminal gang that has been busy ruining the lives of American soldiers, Iraqi citizens, and Afghan mountain dwellers decided they were not satisfied with the billions of taxpayers' money siphoned off into black hole accounts of companies engaged in the Wiedergutmachung in Iraq under the protection of Blackwater mercenaries during a regime-change blitzkrieg that to this day is called a "war," but is undeclared, and has as its enemy a vague entity that may or may not be engaged in trying to liberate Arab soil from the infidel invaders that came for oil, so-called freedom, and the spread of Christianity, but settled for torture, corruption, lies, manipulation, and the expansion of the industrial military complex.

So, with an eye on the perceived temporary discontinuation of the dismantling of America during the Obama term the most evil members of the GOP concocted a sublime plan by creating a new 9/11, but this time rather than using explosions and controlled demolitions of tall buildings a series of implosions was proposed that would severely handicap the new administration and perhaps restore Republican popularity come the 2012 elections by manipulating the stock market mechanisms. If the Nazis had succeeded they would have destabilized America's and Great Britain's economies by flooding them with counterfeit bank notes. This time something similar in outcome could be effectuated by processes that started with deregulating the banks and financial institutions and introducing a sophisticated and incomprehensible scheme with worthless loans that were traded deep toward a black hole that would at some trigger point collapse under its own gravity.

While Capitalism has been sold to its last breath as a system that would perpetuate itself with the elimination of weaker companies so that stronger ones can survive, the market economy, once hollowed out from within was not to be tolerated to behave thusly. If Obama pulls it off to "save" the economy it will be a miracle. Most everyone so far is impressed with his royal stature and supreme intelligence. But even he will find it difficult to stop the avalanche set in motion by the Republicans.

Bush (and by Bush, I mean the lying, cheating, conspirators Cheney, Wolfewitz, Rumsfeld, Rice, et al) have pulled off another daring feat, by turning America overnight from a Capitalist into a Socialist society and grabbing billions of the people's monies and turning it over with nary any oversight to henchman and executioner Henry Paulson, a Wall Street insider who has been retained to distribute this new wealth to the wealthiest fat-cats who shamelessly jumped in their private jets to ask Congress for even more free funds to shore up their mismanaged and behind-the-times companies. Trickle-down economy in reverse. Does anyone have any doubt that the Republican Party's main doctrine has outlived its premise?

Supposedly extending the people's credit to failing institutions managed by failing executives will suddenly make the latter humble, make them see the error of their greedy ways, and turn them into social-conscious do-gooders, while a study of these people's faces during laughable public "hearings" tell you that they know only one creed: greed. The companies receiving public funding should have been forced to make the American taxpayers shareholders and the recipients of promised profits when these companies are back on their feet, but that hasn't happened. Your check will not be in the mail.

And so the crime was committed, and all saw that it was good. Markets and financial institutions would continue to be headed by the only ones capable and available to manage them—those that helped getting us into this mess in the first place.
What will change? I predict nothing. Nothing at all.

The much-touted American Dream is shattered.
A wake-up call has sounded as loud as the civil defense siren in your neighborhood, but, once again the American people are paralyzed, conned as they have been by a wide scare, and while they're being robbed, raped, and pillaged, they are ready to go along with whatever sounds like a good idea as alternatives are not being deemed acceptable (the collapse of Wall Street, the banks, and the automobile industry) even though that is just what capitalism and a free market-driven economy should allow to happen.
Afraid that their dollars may no longer support their glutinous lifestyles Americans quietly and uncomprehendingly watch the bailout-scheme unfold on their oversized HDTVs instead of taking en-masse to the streets to yell, rebel, and protest so loud that it would be heard around the world. A world that in turn is devastated by what begun as the actions of a few, headed early on by Phil Gramm and his quest for deregulation and suspending financial oversight. Like everything else the Republicans plan, their execution is flawed, because the premise of their very core is based on denial of equality, amassing personal fortune, and hatred for those who are not them. The results are favoritism, installing cronies in positions of power, bribery, misuse of public funds, voter-fraud, the corruption of public office, the betrayal of the religious base they claim to represent, using soldiers for political ends, and ultimately the destruction of The Constitution and the Bill of Rights.

Meanwhile, the Republicans will vote against any attempt by the Obama administration to save the economy they destroyed, as they have already shown us in the last weeks. Obama's failure will be their victory with Rush Limbaugh, Michelle Malkin and Ann Coultier laughing the loudest. After voting twice for Bush I don't give the American people any credit for smart future decisions in spite of Obama's win.

And so, the overall picture is becoming clear. We're watching a looting in progress with as goal total control of the political playing field and the American people by the Republicans. This is a high stakes chess game where the ante will be upped by the player who can see several moves farther into the game. My bet is still on Obama, but he's a nice guy and his opponents are strategic bullies who'll stop at nothing, even as their party seeks to rebuild its dented public facade.

After 8 years of Republican indoctrination I fear that the possibility of a major Republican victory (by counting or buying votes) may effectively dismantle the current 2-party system and leave in place a 1-party system like old Russia, China, or Germany under the Nazis.
The people have other worries, like losing their jobs and homes.
For now.
The conditions will be as ripe as they were when Hitler grabbed power.
This time the enemy has an American face. The ruddy, greedy, contorted, ugly, hateful, and angry face of the Republican Party.

Low Level Laser Takes 6.5 Inches Off My Body in 2 Weeks...

2009-02-01T09:33:00.000-08:00

Not exactly an exciting headline, nor a pretty picture, but I just lost a total of 6.5 inches around my waist, hips, and thighs during a 14 day low level laser treatment with Erchonia’s Zerona low level laser, and I wanted to share my faux-lipo story with you.
Let me start at the beginning of this victorious tale: Like you, I've been putting on weight over the last years and like you I wish it wasn't true, but a sedentary lifestyle, long hours working on a computer, and sneakily snacking from the fridge can make a pumpkin out of anyone. What's your excuse?
Now, I'm also a highly skeptical person. I mean, I don't believe there's a God, can you believe that, with all the overwhelming evidence out there? How more skeptical can one get? So, I wasn't going to be a believer in low level laser fat loss, or any quick weight loss scheme either.

Then my friend Les opened Laser EnergyWorks in Honolulu and not before long I was undergoing low level laser treatment three times a week, 40 minutes each time, for two straight weeks under his Zerona laser. It was as easy as lying on a towel on the beach, except there was no heat or any other sensation. The 5-head laser lights are positioned with flexible arms above your body and make a not very loud noise I can best describe as an electric buzz.

Now, before I subjected myself to this regimen I rudimentary educated myself about this method which targets fat cells with low power laser beams. It's like, straight out of SciFi. Contrary to lasers that are so strong they cut through anything, the low level laser gently tickles the fat cells so that they collapse laughing and release their stored fat. The body then absorbs the fat and by drinking large amounts of water (large for me, I prefer beer) it's flushed out of your system. So far so good, but the big news came when my girlfriend declared after one week of not seeing me, "I believe you lost some weight!"

No, I told her, I had not stopped eating, I was having 2-3 glasses of wine every day, I had not exercised, and I wasn't doing Jenny Craig behind her back. In fact, I had not changed my life one bit. I had not even followed the recommended taking of supplements, the wearing of special compressing garments, or the drinking of at least 8 glasses of water a day.

Anyway, her delight gave me pause and for the first time after starting treatment I checked myself in the mirror. At that point I had undergone only 3 treatments and sure enough, I looked trimmer already.
That got me motivated. I decided to help the process along, so I bought one of the recommended food supplements—niacin pills—and plenty bottled water, and went 3 more times under the laser, as a total of 6 constitute a full treatment.
After the last session my measurements and pictures were compared with those from before treatment and the verdict was I had lost 3.5 inches around the waist, 2 inches around the hips, and 1 inch around the thighs. I had not lost any weight—yet.

All that without any major change in lifestyle.

I was impressed. I was also devastated by the right-before and right-after pictures; each snapped upon an exhalation, so there was no trickery with holding one's breath. Clearly, at 60, my body (or Party Central as I call it) was going the wrong way and it appeared now was a good time to get serious about getting back in shape and to begin thinking about longevity and a healthier lifestyle instead of Dreyer's vs Breyer's ice cream.

As a result, some of my next entries are going to be about how I'm tackling the onslaught of time, bad habits (not that I have any), weight increase, wrinkles, hair-loss, and dementia.
No seriously, vanity goes a long way toward changing my ways, so that I may eventually post better looking pictures.
If you too look at yourself in the mirror the way I do now, you know it's time to say, enough!

When that moment comes, tell Les at Laser EnergyWorks Rudolf sent you. He will give you a nice discount and maybe, maybe help rid me of my double chin, which by the way, is another trick the Zerona has on its, uh, flexible arms. Les's philosophy is that he will only deal with products that are scientifically proven to work. I know, he's a God-conscious man, but that's one philosopy a skeptic like me can believe in...

Bush Protest: Shoes Thrown At White House

2009-01-19T21:44:00.001-08:00

It's all very ludical, throwing shoes over the White House fence on the last day of Bush's presidency, but for eight years we've not seen any protests significant enough to speak off. The American people went bravely shopping and let W Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, and Rice run the country and Iraq into the ground without much criticism. So, throw your shoes in response to a currently being held and tortured Iraqi journalist who showed he had the guts to stand up against Bush and show the world how he felt, but don't congratulate yourself. As a nation, you've been lazy, silent, complicit, and cowardly. Hopefully, Obama will negate this shameful period in world history with intellect, tact, and sincerity, but crimes have been committed and too many have stood by. That didn't happen in the Philippines, Ukraine, Beirut, and other places where the people took to the streets and demanded change they could believe in before it was offered to them on a platter...
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

From Zero to Sixty...

2008-12-14T19:22:00.001-08:00

I'm not sure if it's meaningful to write about turning sixty, but since I am rapidly approaching that day I'm giving it some thought for the hell of it. After all, this is a time when everyone seems concerned about their legacy—Bush and Rumsfeld for example, and both are trying to rewrite history to attain a favorable view.
Alas, I don't have the luxury of living in the public eye. My secrets stay where they've been since they entered closet or can.

Of course, we're familiar with seeing our lives in terms of milestones: first steps, first date, first car, first war, whatever... After a while there aren't that many "firsts" anymore, as the initial excitement about fulfilling a life's promise turns to family, duty, work, honing one's skills, surviving tax time, etc., before life's last stages become too dilapidating to attribute any glorious accolades to.
"He remained sharp until the end," may be the best one can hope for.

However, right this moment it appears that sixty is a sweet spot from where one should be able to cast a mild glance backwards while at the same time eyeing the future without the kind of anxiety I felt for example at sixteen, when turning 21 equaled entering the promised land.
At sixty, being alive (something my father did not accomplish) is a success in itself from a very basic viewpoint. So far, so good. I'm breathing for all that it's worth. But there's still a road ahead, even if it's generally not regarded as long or promising as the one already traveled.
Yet, sixty isn't the beginning of the end, unless you believe it is.
To me, the number is representing an opportunity to take the pulse of my life. Life has to be about something. But everything, be they people, things, jobs, or money—to name a few—are elements outside of myself and prone to influences over which I can only pretend to have control.

I guess, what counts the most is, what have I learned, if anything?

Learning is an awkward process. It's based on failures and on finding ways to overcome them. As such it took me the greater part of my life to begin to appreciate failure as an indicator of progress. I've tormented myself on occasions, wallowed in regrets when things didn't turn out as I had hoped. And every time hindsight taught me that it had been for the better. That there were important lessons harvested from failure. Mistakes are a must and we should understand that, but few do in our reward-and-punish society. Without mistakes there's no analysis, no change of plan, no new direction. No improvement.

So, at sixty I can safely acknowledge that I've become pretty good a failing.
However, to avoid becoming too good at it I had to come up with a remedy. Finally I pondered upon a simple slogan which for me sums it up perfectly: Every decision, one of vision.

It sounds simple, but like all mantras just mumbling it is not enough. It takes effort to formulate a vision, but when it's decision time at least you have a tool in hand to measure its validity.
Making every decision one of vision is helping me understand where I'm going and it can even be the mechanism that helps me get there as I no longer have to concern myself with extraneous aspects and influences that lead me astray.
Unfortunately, I was only able to formulate this vehicle for my every day judgments a few years ago. Still, long enough to test it. I'd say that's my #1 insight.

Another thing I've been working on is a possible solution for a problem that we all seem to have: horrible time management. I don't mean the schedule you keep if you work for a boss. I'm talking about dividing your time between catching up with your tasks and accomplishing your goals.
I've noticed that we usually spend most of our time in the past, catching up with yesterdays' tasks, then put off accomplishing our goals because we've run out of time, energy, or are too drunk, to be motivated. We may even think that we've actually accomplished something. If you work for a boss that may be true, but you've done it in the service of another person or institution. You may not have helped accomplish anything for yourself. For that reason I'm a big proponent of building your own business, as it's all about tomorrow.

Now, it's not easy to start the day with dedicating time to your lofty ideals when you have pressing tasks waiting, but without allotting substantial time to realizing your dreams they will remain just that: dreams.
Contrary to popular belief, dreams are hard work. They need consistent attention if they are to become reality. To that end I try to dedicate a portion of my productive hours every day to accomplishing my goals.
Big deal, you may say, but until it entered my consciousness my activities were all over the place. Keep in mind that if you expect your dream to come true 100% that you probably can't accomplish that by dedicating 10% of your time to it. Still, 10% is better than nothing.
If I had to formulate my fantastic insight #2, it would sound something like this: Spend every day x% of your productive time catching up with ongoing tasks, then spend x% on accomplishing goals. Currently I am at 60/40 with my time. My aim is to switch those numbers around. If I can, that means I'm spending more time in the present than in the past.

Now, surely I must've learned something more in sixty years than that, and I have, so if you want more, here's #3:

"Always keep people wanting more."

In reaction to "George Bush's new-fangled (liberal) Faith"

2008-12-11T16:43:00.001-08:00

Today I stumbled over Paul Raushenbush's post at Beliefnet's Progressive Revival blog, titled "George Bush's (liberal) Faith."
In it Raushenbush (what's in a name...) states that in his opinion George Bush revealed that his approach to the bible, evolution and to other religions has more in common with liberal protestants than with his fundamentalist political amen corner, as was "made clear" in what he calls "a surprising ABC Nightline interview on Monday."

When asked if he thought the bible was literally true Bush answered: "You know. Probably not. ... No, I'm not a literalist, but I think you can learn a lot from it, but I do think that the New Testament for example is ... has got ... You know, the important lesson is 'God sent a son,'"

When asked if he prays to the same God as those with different religious beliefs Bush said: "I do believe there is an almighty that is broad and big enough and loving enough that can encompass a lot of people,"

And when asked about creation and evolution Bush answered: "I think you can have both. I think evolution can -- you're getting me way out of my lane here. I'm just a simple president. But it's, I think that God created the earth, created the world; I think the creation of the world is so mysterious it requires something as large as an almighty and I don't think it's incompatible with the scientific proof that there is evolution."

Raushenbush elatedly wrote: "Check, check, check, - Oh, my God, George Bush and I have have the same world view!!!"

Holy Schmoly! Along with Pat Robertson, Michelle Malkin, Karl Rove, Shaun Hannity, Bill O'Reilly, Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and other faux Christians forever trumpeting their smallish, boorish, hypocrite ideas about family, abortion, gays, and God, Raushenbush too can't live with the fact that Bush's set of religious values have nearly destroyed the economy, democracy, the environment, plus the lives of thousands of US soldiers and their families and tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of innocent citizens in New Orleans, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He's leaving behind America as a severely broken and bankrupt stinking shit-hole on a hill—to paraphrase Reagan.

These are some of the reasons religious Americans voted for Obama, risking their Christian and Republican souls for some liberal ointment, perhaps seeing in Obama the Messiah they're always hoping for to put an end to thievery, greed, bribery, adultery, and all those other character traits Republican politicians and evangelical leaders are regularly being indicted for. Throughout history there have been terrible leaders and Bush's name can easily be added to a list that includes Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Franco, Idi Amin, and Mao Tse Tung, if only for alienating a very large segment of the nation and making the world a more dangerous place by being a poster boy for terrorist recruitment.

To Raushenbush that doesn't seem to matter as he continues with, "George Bush was trusted by a large segment of the Christian population because he publicly articulated a profound personal experience of God through Jesus Christ. This interview reveals that someone can have an authentic religious experience without the burdens of Biblical literalism, anti-science suspicions and Christian triumphalism."

That's it? Nothing about how that trust was betrayed? Rather, elation about the fact that in the end George The Merciless's religious experience was "profound." Is this guy for real? Who gives a flying fuck that Hitler went to church? Is that the religious right's ultimate standard by which a man's or woman's character is judged? Oh, I forgot, judging's up to the Almighty... Yet, I've never felt so judged by Republicans, even those among my friends, who project as much disdain as they can into uttering the label "Liberal" as during the last eight years (in which not a single Democrat was appointed by Bush and instead were singled out and ejected from many government posts, only to be replaced by Republican yes men and women—an action not unlike Hitler's reinheit-drive to rid Germany of the "impure").

But Raushenbush appears oblivious of any historical context and ultimately loses me when he states, "Contrary to popular belief, George Bush is no dummy," after first quoting the three above-referenced horrible, awkwardly-worded attempts by George The Theologist at forming complete sentences to do with his "faith." Raushenbush's jubilation at holding the same world view as George The Unrepentable (who at the end of his reign has begun appearing on TV in sheepskin, maybe hoping to erase all our negative memories) only shows what little evidence he needs to feel comforted by all those that engage in, support, vote for, and generally embrace discrimination, war, killing, and walk lock-step with the big corporations that control politics and thus our lives. No matter what myopic worldview George The Blind Bat has, Raushenbush, by comparing Bush to himself only gives validity to the idea that one does not have to be smart to be elected president if there are enough others lacking intelligence. Sadly, there are plenty and for 8 long years George The Decider was their Über-Dummy.

If the idea of an Almighty as one with sensibilities and reason was what many saw reflected in George Bush I'd proffer that as a mighty insult to the Almighty. As a result of having our own Gang of Four at the helm (Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, and Rove) we have witnessed quite the opposite of everything commonly attributed to Jesus's teachings, and still Raushenbush goes back to crawl up the apparently cozy rectum of George The Warmonger who sarcastically (others might say "humbly") stated in his ABC interview that he's "just a simple president."
Sure. Someone you'd like to have a beer with. The Other Son of God. The Man with a Mission who wanted to be a Uniter but became a Divider by seeing himself as The Decider. The Chosen One who'd set the world straight on the path to Armageddon.

To his credit, Raushenbush finally had me laughing when he revealed himself as totally inadequate to grasp what the elections had wrought by saying, "Hopefully other political and religious figures on the right will follow suit. Governor Huckabee?"

Raushenbush, dude, the religious right got it royally wrong, and that includes that has-been Huckabee who'd sent gays straight to hell if he could! Except for you, no one's waiting for the televised remodeling of the collapsed Republican and religious right wedding cake. Certainly not redressed with some liberal sauce du jour. America finally woke up and grabbed power from the greedy grubby Republican and religious right dead-wrong hands. We're no longer interested in their or your misguided, juxtaposed, miserable, and entirely backward world views.

About Religion
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Bush's Environmental Chief: There's "Not A Clean-Cut Division" Between Religion And Science

2008-12-08T22:18:00.001-08:00

First, I'd say, consider the source. However, as these statements are dispensed as official news it pays to post a retort.
Ask yourself, if everything we know to be scientifically true today could fit in a book, would you not reference it like a good Christian does the Bible?

Now ask yourself, if someone today published a book based on quasi-historical assumptions, unexplainable events, would you suspend your disbelief and start trying to convince others that everything in the book is true, or would you label it entertainment or sci-fi?

There's no proof that burning bushes and snakes can talk, that seas can part or that anyone can walk on water (except maybe Chris Angel, a renowned trickster). So, what would happen today to anyone seriously claiming witness to such incredible incidents? What would happen if a long-awaited Messiah returned and had to resort to what may appear to many as illusions to convince us of his godly status?

You can belief anything you want, but it only proves you're gullible (I don't want to use stronger words) and lack the mental capacity to figure things out by using your rationale. We just had 8 years of that and it lead to nothing, and certainly not compassion, but rather near-totalianarism and gut-wrenching ineptness.

People have believed in the unexplained for thousands of years. I can't predict the future, but at some point I fathom science will have explained nearly everything, including why some people rationally insist on the irrational... To me, though, that just goes over my head.

About Religion
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Black Friday Stampede Kills Worker At Wal-Mart

2008-11-28T18:50:00.001-08:00

Today, the news reports that a Wal-Mart employee has been trampled to death by shoppers smashing through the doors of a Long Island Wal-Mart the morning after Thanksgiving—commonly known as "Black Friday." The unidentified victim, employed as an overnight stock clerk, tried in vain to hold back a crowd of hundreds just after the Green Acres Mall store opened at 5 a.m.
I have long been dismayed by mindless shoppers whose state of consciousness appears to be little more than that of preprogrammed buybots, often obstructing my aisle as they gaze uncomprehendingly at a box of cereal that's about as half-empty as the cranium cavities in which their discount options percolate in lieu of actual thoughts. As America's system of voracious capitalism teeters on the brink of collapse and presidential appointees pay ad-hoc homage to socialism by siphoning off hard-earned taxpayers' money by the billions to mismanaged monolithic mega corporations, the shopaholic masses know little better to do than to spend their quick-devaluing dollars on cheap "luxury" goods manufactured in friendly dictatorships with low wages that will soon fail, become outdated, or are carted off to self-storage facilities as closets, basements, and attics clutter with earlier acquired crap.

Wal-Mart, as one of the most predatory and anti-worker enterprises, has become a mecca for minions of susceptible lower-income earners, where they can exercise their lack of education, culture, and purpose by unloading shopping carts stocked with big brand boxes into their gas-guzzling SUVs, only to return hungry for the next sales event. Just as they can't see themselves as unfulfillable voids with a unsatisfiable appetite for soon useless stuff they can't be expected to see other lifeforms as more indispensable. By clearing the doorway of human debris Wal-Mart avoided a riot and possibly more casualties, conveniently citing consumer safety as priority #1. Save for a minor incident Black Friday was carried out around the nation for what is was intended: to shovel as much money into the pockets of retailers as possible and ring in the Christmas shopping season during which we are expected to commemorate the miracle birth of Jesus whose image personifies suffering, forgiveness, kindness, compassion, and an appeal to the best in us...

I give the American Dream as the backdrop in this unfortunate mall clerk's fading nightmare on Main Street another ten years before its fairy-tale veneer will have entirely peeled back and exposed an utterly subdued, intoxicated, on credit living nation that's just as easily manipulated by power-grabbing politicians as by the morally bankrupt multi-national corporations that control them. Lofty shopping mall names like Green Acres may foreshadow a future of empty storefront facades they once adorned if todays' relentless consumerism continues to indiscriminatingly feed the all-devouring locust called Capitalism.

About Holiday Sales
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Bush's Parting Gift, Another Great Depression?

2008-11-23T12:38:00.001-08:00

Many comparisons have lately been made between our current economy and the Great Depression. While future historians may have a better view of the severity of both incidents, a real comparison can of course not be made unless we strain ourselves to give equal weight to a majority of causes. The comparison is not only questionable, but seems to suggest that we'll be facing the same hardship now as the nation did back then. There's no doubt that both times a financial crisis spearheaded what some would call a catastrophy, but what I see as a collapse of Capitalism. I'm not saying this will be the end of Capitalism, as it can recover and I'm sure it will, but right now it's flat out on its back and if that isn't a collapse then what is...

Indeed, the patient is Capitalism and its recovery is not expected any time soon. It's all too clear now that pure, unadulterated greed lies at the core of a system that sprouted from the industrial revolution and turned the globe into a mine field of interdependent economies and a landfill for the results of glutinous consumerism. In the end just promises of future product availability turned out to provide the strength that held up the house of cards the economy had become. Capitalism, which after all believes in itself and free markets, deserves to be left to its own devices to recover—however painful that process may be. All the money now thrown at it will be wasted if it's only used to keep the machine running without looking at what it exactly produces. But, the people now protesting, the taxpayers, should also realize that they have been feeding the private jet uppercrust by indiscriminately buying their spit & shine crap, useless mass-produced trinkets, and stuff that doesn't work, is badly designed, badly engineered, and produced by poor suckers without shoes in dictatorships. So, in the end it's us that are sick and we better understand that real medicine never tastes like sugar water.

Under Bush, regulations that were in place to control corporate behavior have been relaxed to the point where Wall Street ran euphorically wild with the bulls until all was exhausted and greedy CEO's got into their private jets to beg in Washington for more party money from you, the taxpayer. It's a scam that has been played by the Republicans since they took control of the White House. We were promised victory in Iraq, lower gas prices, Obama's, uh, Osama's head, national security, and ended up getting bilked for billions of dollars while being spied on domestically. They controlled everything until two subsequent elections taught them that America had enough of these out-of-control control freaks that call themselves conservatives but conserved nothing, except for their hatred of gays, immigrants, and the French.

Now, I have no doubt that the greedy corporate bastards that got us in this mess will be the same that get us out, as they control the government, global resources (that may include you!), product manufacturing, infrastructure, media, and market (that certainly includes you!). Of course, they will also be the ones shaking things up by buying failing companies for a fraction of their worth and letting others die. In the process, many may die, either physically, or figuratively (and I hope that isn't you, or me!), before the markets stabilize and then it will begin a new cycle with the kind of outcome that will lead to comparisons with the Great Depression.

Only the people at the base, the workers, citizens—consumers all—can change the course if they are beginning to think and shop differently. As we've seen now—and I hope it's a lesson—it's our money that controls the players at the top, not the other way around, as "trickle-down" Reagan-onomists and rightwingers have had us believe for too long. Luckily, as has been proven by Obama's election, the books he wrote, and the discourse that took place in blogs and other media helped turn hapless citizens into informed buyers. The Obama brand may still disappoint, but its emergence stands in sharp contrast with the old-school baseless attacks the political right depended on. This is a different time and this time we know better. We're no longer the unshaven great unwashed from the Great Depression era. We've got blog power!

Let us hope that we can do better and that an open dialog about what our real needs are may lead to better products that address real needs at prices that reward everyone in the product cycle fairly. To follow what things are heading in that direction I recommend treehugger.com.

About Financial Crisis
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Huckabee: Gays Haven't Crossed Civil Rights Violence Threshold

2008-11-19T08:17:00.001-08:00

While Mike Huckabee holds on to the view that gays haven't yet crossed the Civil Rights Violence Threshold, he apparently doesn't realize that such statement sounds like an invitation to turn gay-bashing up a notch, now that Newt Gingrich has also publicly declared that there is a "gay and secular fascism prepared to use violence." Oh, boy! The gays and seculars are coming, armed to the teeth with rakes and clubs!

Seriously, ultimately all issues of race, gender, equality, etc., will need to be settled by the Supreme Court. Unfortunately, it's stacked with conservative political appointees. At the core of all arguments against equality is either stupidity, bigotry, faith or a combination of all three, which is what is commonly projected by those publicly airing their fearful opinions. What we see here is only the beginning of the battle. The "concerned" citizens need to be separated from their biased fears and begin accepting that any form of discrimination is hurtful and shameful for a nation that sees itself as civilized, modern, and advanced.

We're not talking about "others" who happen to be "different." We're talking about our children, born from our blood. To deny them anything less than what we reserve for ourselves is selfish, loathsome, and despicable.

Religion and State must be separated as per the Constitution. Religious groups are nothing but cults, even if they belong to big brand name cults. The Law ought to be fact-based, and since marriage is recognized under the law as a contract (whatever you think about it from your cult perspective) it should be applicable to all citizens, regardless of age, sex, gender, etc. America has a terrible past when it comes to discrimination and still voices ring out loud and clear to continue doing just that. It is what made Dick Cheney and his wife so evil in my eyes, having a gay daughter, yet denying her equal rights.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Netflix Rocks With Roku...

2008-11-14T15:26:00.000-08:00

This year circumstances prompted me to buy a new HDTV. I settled on the Series 5 Samsung 32" after reading nothing but great reviews on the web and although it was more than I wanted to spend, Cirquit City extended a $100 discount, just because I asked and maybe also because I heard rumors they're going bankrupt. They may be giving even more discount now that it's official. After looking at the different sizes I settled on 32" because broadcast picture quality is not always great as often extreme video compression leads to blocky and blotchy on-screen artifacts especially when motion is involved—something that's just amplified on a larger screen. So, I figured the 32" size and the fact that the Samsung has an extreme high response rate this model delivered the most bang for the buck in terms of features, sharpness, rich blacks and color fidelity. I briefly had an LG in the same size that I returned because there were things that bothered me where the Samsung more than delivered.

If, like me, you're not all that interested in the HD broadcast channels (Bikini Destinations [implants galore], or cooking shows) the next best thing is playing a DVD. Now, recently Netflix made Watch Instantly available for Mac owners and I had tried it, but since I work all day on my Mac using it also for movie watching is not appealing to me and certainly can't compare to watching a movie together in bed.
Alas, a trip to Netflix revealed that there's also a $99 device (a small box by Roku) available for instant watching on your HDTV. I decided to give it a shot.

Now, I also own the Apple TV, a device I've had for a few years and which last year became capable of renting and watching movies on. Unfortunately a recent issue HD movie rents for $5 and is good for only 24 hours, whereas the Netflix Watch Instantly feature is free and affords unlimited watching movies and TV shows with any 1 DVD at-a-time plan of $8.99 or higher.

While not as good as the screen quality of Apple TV (which cost $229, has a 40Gb hard drive while Roku only streams and with which you can do so much more, like playing and buying music, TV shows, watching YouTube, etc.), the Roku delivers higher quality on your HDTV compared to watching Netflix on your computer. Supposedly, within months the service will begin including HD quality as well, at which time it should be very competitive with the Apple TV, except for price, where Netflix is the winner. Still, that's not where it all ends, as not all Netflix content available on DVD are (yet) available as Watch Instantly content. The same goes for Apple TV, where Hollywood reigns supreme. However, where Apple TV has been lacking in independent movies, the free Netflix movies have a decent offering of those.

Of course, within time all this technology will change again, but for now the combination HDTV-Netflix-Roku is pretty irresistible for movie fanatics I think, especially with the same box soon being able to stream HD content. Netflix seems to have out-competed Blockbuster and surely Tower Video and positioned itself for online streaming at affordable prices. Even though there are competitors, such as Hulu, with Netflix's vast customer base my money's on Netflix.

I hope my experiences have given you something to consider if your situation is somewhat like mine—technology-wise, of course.
Ciao!

A dinosaur bailout...

2008-11-14T10:37:00.000-08:00

Towards the end of the presidential election the McCain camp attacked Obama on his liberal socialist agenda in the midst of a period in which Wall Street, lenders, and the auto industry is begging for citizens' tax dollars. It's not that the people want socialism, it's the capitalists that in their crumbling greed have discovered that when vision fails, innovation lags, and products miss the mark, government by and for the people affords one last money grab before extinction or survival of the fittest prevails. Before they got on their knees they have fought unions, wrecked the environment, bought politicians, and distanced themselves as far as they could from the common man, dangling a world of soulless luxury in front of us to get us to max out our credit just to keep up with the Joneses. The dinosaurs had grown too big for their brains and moved too slow and ultimately demise was their fate. A different world emerged in which smaller, smarter, and better adapted to the environment creatures existed. Let these mammoths die and watch smaller, smarter, and better adapted to the environment companies emerge. People have to learn to do things themselves again and not have dinosaur corporations do the thinking for them.

Death of the DC Darling

2008-05-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

The DC Madam is dead. She did what few women chose by way of suicide; she hung herself. While it's unclear if she did this alone or may have had some "help," one thing we know: she was recently convicted for running a call-girl operation.
She maintained she was merely a single mom trying to make ends meet. Many single moms have chosen for the sex trade in order to keep their economy afloat. In America, that means engaging in illegal practices. Prostitution is a no no, but as we've seen when politicians are involved hardly any ever serve time, and the only victim is their spouse having to flank her man as he publicly sobs and promises to seek help for his deviant behavior.
Sex can't be a crime, if it's something everyone does. It should not be a crime to make an arrangement with another consenting adult. The US has a terrible record of criminalizing its citizens and publicly exposing anyone suspected of a crime. Lives are destroyed and reputations tarnished because by criminalizing sex between adults there can't be protection of individuals on either side of the transaction. There are cultures where prostitution is much more accepted, such as in The Netherlands. When I lived there a long divorced friend surprised me one day by announcing she'd been working in a brothel for the last 3 months. She was enjoying the extra money, enjoying the sex, and enjoying the friendships with other women, most of them divorced mothers. She was taxed as a sex-worker, and no one in our circle of friends ever spoke ill of her choice. In fact, her new line of work seemed to have empowered her. We all know that her situation isn't uncommon for many women that find themselves without adequate income. Most of us prostitute ourselves for the gain of our "Johns" by engaging in the trade of time and energy. The bodily fluids we exchange for wages is our sweat. Rationalize for yourselves why one form of physical exploitation is accepted and the other one is not. It doesn't make sense. Legalize it, legalize pot and other victim-less behaviors and America's overcrowded prisons can begin being used for people who actually commit crimes.

John McCain, hero or traitor? Some straight talk...

2008-05-05T02:29:00.000-07:00

2008 presidential nominee, Republican Senator John McCain (born August 29, 1936 in Panama) is repeatedly being called an "American hero" by people on all sides of the political spectrum and all walks of life. He's often being thanked for his service to his country.
Not much thought seems to go into such words of praise. After all, since 9/11 almost anyone in public service who wears or wore a uniform is now customarily being labeled "hero," or "heroes" in the case of an entire group or profession.

Most know bit and pieces of McCain's story, as it's been widely publicized. He comes from a family of four-star admirals in the US Navy. He became a Navy pilot and in 1967, on his 23rd bombing mission over North Vietnam, he was shot down and captured, badly injured, by the North Vietnamese. He spent five and a half years as a prisoner of war during which time he was according to his own statements tortured before being released in 1973.

While he survived 5 airplane crashes (4 while piloting!), his hero status is mainly attributed to the time he spent as a POW, and during which he claims to have suffered emotionally and physically at the hands of his captors. It's well-documented, including by McCain himself in various books he wrote and in interviews, that he ended up divulging military information to his captors and signing "war-crime confessions," acts commonly associated with treason, but long since forgiven by many (but not all) due to his ordeal, which by his own account, included two years of solitary confinement.

If the above description contains the information necessary to define him as an "American hero," so be it, but it's a far stretch from how the idea of "hero" came to be understood.
Let's first make it clear that McCain has never referred to himself as a hero, but rather that he "was privileged to serve in the company of heroes, but never, never have I described myself as having done anything heroic." Indeed, reference to his capture on his own website is limited to the following paragraph: "John McCain spent much of his time as a prisoner of war in solitary confinement, aided by his faith and the friendships of his fellow POWs. When he was finally released and able to return home years later, John McCain continued his service by regaining his naval flight status. His naval honors include the Silver Star, Bronze Star, Legion of Merit, Purple Heart, and the Distinguished Flying Cross."

Does McCain know better than anyone that flying technically advanced aircraft over the city of Hanoi on his 23rd bombing mission, releasing tons of bombs on a predominantly civilian population during a misguided war in which America was the aggressor was a far cry from the kind of behavior that sets a true hero apart? Moreover, the man who first saved him from drowning after he crashed in the Hanoi lake and then shielded him from being killed by bystanders, a peasant (and hero, by every definition!) by the name Mai Van On, died without a mention in any of McCain's publications, or a token of his gratitude other than a photo op.

Not that McCain was without valor, again, by his own account. In 1968, after the North Vietnamese discovered he was the son of an Admiral and offered to release him (which in itself is questionable, as he was a golden catch for their propaganda), he says he refused. He would only accept the offer if every man taken in before him was released as well. We have only McCain’s word for it.
Yet, this incident itself is hardly ever mentioned as the reason for his widely perceived status as hero. It's certainly overshadowed by his own testimony in U.S. News and World Report, of May 14, 1973, in an article written by former POW John McCain, in which he states that "On October 27, 1967, four days after being shot down, (McCain) called for a North Vietnamese guard. (McCain) told the officer, "O.K., I'll give you military information if you will take me to the hospital." And he did, from ships' positions to personnel readiness, attack package routes, and targets... Maybe that's why it's not odd that on a 1993 visit to Vietnam, McCain pleaded with his former captors not to release any records they hold pertaining to returned U.S. POWs. Many believe McCain's records could prove so damaging to his reputation as a Senator they could eliminate his chance to become president.

As outlined above, and as publicly stated by McCain, so far there's nothing classically, or traditionally, heroic in his tale. To the contrary.
I'd go further and express that today America suffers from an inferiority complex that's being compensated for (and smartly exploited for political gain) by bestowing the title of hero haphazardly on just about anyone in uniform. Protesting it is tantamount to being seen as “anti-American,” or “unpatriotic.” Then, should we not ask why Americans need to turn deeds performed in the line of duty into acts of heroism? Can't that be called a superiority complex?

If you act on an impulse and run into a burning barn to save someone, is that the same as having trained for just such an event and go in with experience and full support of other firefighters, wearing special equipment designed to help you see, breathe, communicate, and survive? I don't want to minimize a firefighters virtue, but someone can't be a hero just for putting on a firefighter suit (or a fly-suit as Bush tried for his infamous "mission accomplished" statement).

If definitions are changing when it comes to what makes a hero, is it really just up to those intended on manipulating our emotions for political gain to create modern mythology, and invent a quintessential "American" branded kind of heroism, or do the centuries-old definitions of heroism still apply today?
By comparing tales of heroism from ancient to recent we can establish the common traits of the hero. History seems to indicate that among other things there must be perceived risk and selfless intention to become a hero. In the example of John McCain, his choice to enter the US Navy be considered selfless act, but once enlisted, just doing his job—and by extension being captured while doing it not very well—doesn't necessarily make him a hero.

In the classic sense, the title of "hero" is reserved for those who do something extraordinary that goes far beyond the call of duty. Someone who saves others with disregard for his or her own life or limb is by definition a classic hero. John McCain saved no one and instead engaged in the brutal act of raining fire and brimstone from the sky on civilians in a country that had never threatened the US. This is a man who cheered on the US's Christmas Bombing of Hanoi from his confinement, knowing very well that while aimed at breaking the North's resistance it would also wreak great havoc among civilians. That in itself seems selfish rather than selfless and shows that at the time he had learned little about the cruelty of war and remained a stout supporter of the US's involvement in the Vietnam war—all the while collaborating with his captors and acting as a war criminal for their propaganda purposes.

America's cult of celebrity worship may have more to do with how we perceive modern day heroes. A Harris Poll conducted in 2001 delivered Jesus and Martin Luther King as #1 and #2 heroes. John Wayne and Michael Jordan were in the top 10. I don't want to diminish the personal contribution and sacrifices these individuals have made to society, but what does that tell us about the quintessential American hero? That celebrity status is more valuable to us than the performance of actual heroic feats?
What some of these individuals exhibited can certainly be attributed as traits that at least partially characterize a hero, such as courage; or not giving up until a stated goal is accomplished; or doing what’s right regardless of personal consequences; or doing more than what's expected of them; or changing society for the better; or exhibit a willingness to risk personal safety to help others...
However, most of these traits have to do with character, which is supposedly already present prior to the performing of any act of heroism. In that respect, McCain has exhibited character more than anything else, and I would present that his character falls in one of two camps for judgment: those that agree with his behavior as a POW and later as a Senator, and those that don't.

While heroes may have a strong character on the outset, often a hero's character develops during the journey toward hero-dom, and can be the result of it, as may be the case in the example of an otherwise as ordinary perceived individual surprising everyone by running into a burning barn to perform a heroic feat. In that respect, heroes don't sit by the fire waiting to be called into action. Rather it's a set of circumstances that propels an ordinary individual into action with heroism being the extraordinary result.

Is then bravery alone enough to be labeled a hero? The press today likes to paint our soldiers in Iraq as quintessential "American" heroes at every opportunity, but while they can certainly be viewed as brave for going into combat and risking their lives, they do so in the line of duty, a duty which often have them empty their weapons almost indiscriminately in the general direction the enemy, often killing and maiming innocent bystanders, afterwards conveniently dehumanized with official terms such as "collateral damage," or "casualties." Heroism in itself it is not, as argued earlier, even though heroic moments may ensue when for instance comrades are rescued under fire. For the recognition of those specific moments there are medals, but a soldier’s presence alone in a combat arena cannot be used to label them as heroes. It's simply not how heroism has been defined throughout time.

In McCain's case we're looking at a man who initially performed in line with the duty he signed up for. Loss of life, injury, capture, and imprisonment were and are risks that are well understood by anyone engaging in combat and are also part of training and the military code of conduct. Collaborating with the enemy is not being taught as a survival technique. On the contrary, the entire military machine hinges on the principle of honor. It is difficult then to rhyme the military's notion of honor with McCain's willingness to divulge military secrets during his captivity. For that reason alone, McCain is probably the most unsuitable person to ever have gotten this close to the presidency. What man in his right mind would declare it's "fine by me" to see our military remain in Iraq for a hundred years? As argued before, a hero is someone opposite from the idea of putting more lives at risk. Oddly enough, McCain has not shown to be particularly occupied with the soldier's or veteran's well-being, and his dealing with POW cases and families raises more questions than it answers.

To this day, there are plenty that see McCain as a traitor instead of a hero. Many of them served in the military the same time he did. They remember him as the man who as soon as after four days in captivity (during which he claims he was tortured, a claim contested by other POWs) made a deal with his captors and did the opposite of what a hero would've done. There are pictures of McCain warmly embracing his former interrogators (and torturers?). Apparently he's either very forgiving, or has his own reasons as touched on earlier.

So then, in light of the aforementioned, is John McCain the quintessential American hero or a traitor? A strong case can be made that he was and is not a hero by any standards, but has become someone with celebrity status Americans often confuse with that of a national hero, like Michael Jordan. On the other hand, if a traitor is someone who aids and abets the enemy willingly and repeatedly, an equally strong case can be made that it applies to McCain, enforced by his own statements, and the question then is if such a person ought to be President of the United States...

Obama Intelligent Enough For You?

2008-04-28T18:04:00.000-07:00

The Jeremiah Wright controversy is one of Obama's own making and I'm sorry to see an otherwise brilliant man fall victim to the God-hoax he thinks he has to keep embracing in order to be electable in this country.
As I write this his future is uncertain as it pertains to seeking the presidency. Personally, I hope he'll be able to overcome these adversities, as I regard him at this moment in the race as the only viable candidate who exhibits the poise, the calm, and the vision of someone able to lead America away from the self-destructive path it's been on for eight years. Both Hillary Clinton and John McCain represent the old school thinking that has brought us to the brink we now find ourselves on and they will certainly not be able to deliver the changes we need as a people and as a nation, and which we needed yesterday.

In Obama we have a man who at this moment has proven to many that he's intelligent, seeks new ways of governing, and appears to be the kind of charismatic individual that can bring people together and can get things done. He indeed represents the "hope" that his campaign runs on. However, I'm troubled that Obama in all his brilliance has not been able to figure out something even my son already came to terms with at an early age, namely that there's no proof there is a God, either Christian, Muslim, or otherwise denominated, and that there's no proof Jesus existed or if he did "said" anything currently attributed to him (as if a scribe was always by his side), or that raging men in long gowns somehow have earned the distinction to explain to the rest of us how everything fits together if only you are willing to believe that there's someone omnipresent at the helm of our ship balancing precariously on the cusp of a steep waterfall.
I would have had more respect for Obama if in his new thinking he also could've done away with the ancient, trivializing, tribal rituals that have spread across the world in the form of religion of one ilk or another. If he'd been able to do that he could've made a case for why all the crappy divisive political bickering has taken us into a reality of war, debt, environmental disasters, etc. That the political pandering to the Jerry Falwells, Pat Robertsons, and luminaries of the Catholic church has at every turn exposed the dirty underbelly of America, where Jesus's mythical message of love is curiously absent when it comes to women's rights, acceptance of gays, sexual abuse of the innocent by priests, greed, power, etc.
As a thinking man Obama could have distanced himself not only from the hocus pocus of Jeremiah Wright's designer-brand of Trinity Christianity, he could have easily figured out that everything Jeremiah Wright's Church stands for can be achieved politically. Why do we continue to leave the most important decisions of our time to an unseen, unacting, uncaring God when it's us and our hope (the very definition of Obama's message) that can make all the things happen that need to happen in order to survive the coming period of global warming, unnatural disasters, food scarcity, and mass migrations.
So, in that sense, yes, the chickens have come home to roost in the form of Obama's negligence to trust his intelligence, and it's to his detriment that he could not inspire those of us who have long abolished the silly sermons, crappy leaflets, and devastating dogmas of the men and women "of the cloth," who haven't been able to create an inkling of paradise on earth even in their own homes.
Had he been just a tad more intelligent and less calculating, by counting on those afflicted by the God-hoax, he could have found plenty of like-minded free thinkers congregating in the audience of almost every comedian who isn't afraid to speak his mind, be his name George Carlin, Bill Maher, Stephen Colbert, John Stewart, Larry david, Keith Olbermann, and countless others who appear much wiser, free-er, and insightful than most any politician. And because we don't carry bibles, pray in groups, or build club houses at every street corner, and can't be counted easily doesn't mean our numbers don't run in the millions. We are the ones who look through the bullshit of a God who can't be seen, heard, felt, tasted other than as dictated by organized religious practitioners; we are the ones who see through the bullshit of old style politics, the bullshit of promises that can't be delivered on, and are well aware that Jesus won't come back to save us (sorry to have to break it to you).
Maybe Obama can save us, but I'm still doubtful he possesses just that tad more intelligence that is needed to denounce the dumbest of dumbest among us who insist to believe in something that doesn't exist, which includes John McCain being any different than George Bush.
Jeremiah Wright personifies old dogma's, conflicted thinking, and leaving important decisions to a higher being. That describes George Bush as well. And because of that analogy Obama stands a lot closer to George Bush and everything that has gone wrong with America in the last eight years than he may be aware of.
My advice to Obama: You are currently our only hope for change within government. Realize your destiny and see that religion is the enemy of us all. Maybe then you can replace all those believers that may turn their backs on you with the intelligent people we're always told by politicians make up America but no one ever appeals to...

Keith Olbermann's anger...

2007-05-06T12:31:00.001-07:00

It has been reported that Rudy Giuliani's campaign expressed its dismay at NBC News reporter Keith Olbermann's commentary on April 25, in which he accused Giuliani of using the language of Osama bin Laden with "the same chilling nonchalance of the madman" to argue that Republicans would keep Americans safer than Democrats from terror.

Luckily, Keith Olbermann can defend himself better than anyone, but that should not be necessary. If only America had more political parties, there would be room for more views, including those of a "rogue" reporter. As we've seen under Bush and his "mandate" a one percent majority of those that did not stay home to watch "Days of Our Lives" and got out to vote can lead to a near-dictatorial chokehold, not unlike a communist party's rule in China, or previously, Russia. People like Olbermann have dared to stick their neck out to keep the power-grab hungry politicians in check that will squander their own beliefs and our vested hope for a better future for dollars and a nod from the dummies that believe their fear-monging diatribes. Only now journalist are becoming a little more courageous and begin looking for the hard facts, but not long ago they sheepishly reported the propaganda coming from Karl Rove's keyboard. Olbermann, Colbert, Stewart, and others who dare to expose the Giulianis, Roves, DeLays, Cheneys, Bushes, Rumsfelds, Rices, McCains, Frists, etc., do that with wit and an uncanny instinct for truth and truthiness, venting our combined anger and frustration as we witness the rape of decency, democracy, and humanity that shamefully parallels what once took place in Germany in 1933. We applaud that these "news entertainers" are not easily scared into the kind of self-censorship that was prevalent after 9/11, as illegal eaves-dropping programs and other highly questionable government campaigns to manipulate the masses became in effect.

Simmons Wants To Ban Words Widely Used by Rappers...

2007-04-23T22:58:00.001-07:00

In today's news: "Hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons said Monday that the recording and broadcast industries should consistently ban three racial and sexist epithets from all so-called clean versions of rap songs and the airwaves. Currently such epithets are banned from most clean versions, but record companies sometimes "arbitrarily" decide which offensive words to exclude and there's no uniform standard for deleting such words, Simmons said..."

I think people may miss the point that Simmons' suggestion pertains only to the "clean" versions of songs. Those with the label "explicit" will remain just as the artist intended. Once again, it comes down to leaving educating your kids to record companies or other outside institutions. Why favor censorship when it can only lead to other kinds of censorship? There are many words that can be offensive in context. If your kids gravitate towards abusive language in music or otherwise you have missed some opportunities to teach them values and you can't blame it on whatever they are exposed to. The world's a messy place that you can't clean up by banning words. Niggers, ho's and bitches have every right to be associated with, just like you have every right to distance yourself from those definitions. That said, I welcome the discussion because only when we can use words may we be able to understand each other. I respect Mr. Simmons' initiative, but I respectfully disagree with the idea of banning or censoring language.

About the Imus controversy...

2007-04-23T22:57:00.001-07:00

To all those ganging up on Imus as if he's the epithomy of racism in America—for calling a dominantly black basket ball team members "nappy-headed hoes"—while it'd be easy to join you because I personally don't like Imus, you're obviously comfortable calling for censorship, something I'm not comfortable with. Censorship flies in the face of the Constitution, the way I see it. Imus wasn't calling for actions against black women. He insulted them. Bad call. If you want to censor the airwaves, vote with your dial. I have long decided that Imus, Limbaugh, Hannity, Stern, and a whole bunch of others have every right to be assholes and that it's my right to tune them out. That said, I welcome the discussion about race and who can and cannot use certain words, because America isn't done yet with its past. Maybe it will lead to liberating the word "nigger," "niggah," and all its derivatives, currently held hostage by members of the black community, sanitized for your protection with the nomer "N-word." Being Caucasian (you know, from the Caucasus, where the white people come from), I can buy rap music with lyrics containing these words, but not sing along in public. How idiotic is that? How racist is it that black people can say "nigger" and white people can go to jail for it? Chris Rock can say nigger, bitch, and ho 500 times in his show and get away with it. Should he be banned? Everyone in the audience is laughing, because it can all apparently be taken with a grain of sugar. So why not Imus? Ask yourself, have you alway been politically correct? Even in your thoughts? Stop censorship. Accept we are all assholes at times.

I just learned that Imus has been dropped by MSNBC. Is this the beginning of the great sanitazion of the airwaves? I bet not. Imus did not break any laws. The aforementioned assholes will stay on, trumpetting their bigot attitudes to their bigot audiences, protected not just by the First Amendment, but by those profitting from or aiding and abetting bigotry, for political reasons or otherwise. Racism is as alive in America as it's ever been, and as long as no one is actually hurt by it, we have to acknowledge that it can be pretty funny as well, as evidenced by Martin Lawrence's, Chris Rock's, David Chapelle's and a host of comedians ability to cater to their audiences' sense of humor and relevance. If Imus had had the ability to wrap his remarks in a comedic sense, something he utterly failed at, he'd still be bazooning his sour commentary at MSNBC, a broadcaster that like many other broadcasters has failed to give equal air time to non-white talk show hosts...

posted by Rudolf Helder at Thursday, April 12, 2007

In response to "When Black Republicans Go Bad" by Trey Ellis

2007-04-23T22:47:00.001-07:00

I think the posting of Trey Ellis's view "When Black Republicans Go Bad" contains some disturbing elements that appear to escape most responders. Now, Mr. Ellis makes it obvious that he is dark-skinned by posting his picture along. I guess that makes him somewhat of an authority on matters of race, although last time I checked I was still labeled "Caucasian" so by the same token that should make me an authority of whatever sums up us "white" folks.

Now then, I hereby willfully distance myself from that notion and rather go by the merits as Mr. Ellis presents them. If I get this right, Mr. Ellis's major gripe is with "blacks" that don't act "black" politically and his references focus on Claude Allen and Justice Clarence Thomas, who, as I perceive it act according to him— perhaps along with Condoleeza Rice and Colin Powell—as "blacks" suffering from an Uncle Tom syndrome.

The gist of Mr. Ellis's rant is the question of "why are we so surprised that Claude Allen, until recently the President's chief domestic policy advisor, is being accused of scamming Target out of over $5000?"
Well, he may be surprised, but mainly it seems because Mr. Allen is " a black man who got his start working for Jesse Helms, the former Senator who had the delightful habit of calling all black people, "Fred."

In my personal opinion, anyone, from any background has the right to associate themselves with whomever they choose, even if that may lead to their downfall. So, as a "liberal" I simply accept that Mr. Allen apparently feels some kind of ideological kinship with Jesse Helms. Perhaps Mr. Ellis will next ponder the insanity of many "blacks" that associate themselves with Jesus—who is not being portrayed as "black" by church or media, while he most certainly was not as "white" as he's commonly depicted...

Then, Mr. Ellis introduces the nigger/Fred parable as further evidence that Mr. Allen is not only "black" but also crazy (a crazy nigger). Yet, Mr. Allen has no accusations as such levied against him. Rather, he's being charged with defrauding Target of $5,000. What's unfortunate is that he's "black" and now Mr. Ellis not only holds it against him that here is a "black" man who plays Uncle Tom to his "white superiors," but also conforms to the biased view that "blacks" would more than anyone engage in crime and violence. More than Republicans, or almost as much as Republicans? I'm missing the point.

Yes, Mr. Allen must be crazy and criminal because he also associates with other crazy Republican "blacks," one of whom "sees pubic hairs in a can of Coke."
Hell, and that happens to be a Justice of the Supreme Court. Mind you, still an Uncle Tom anyway according to Mr. Ellis. (By the way, the Coke phrase originated from Senator Orin Hatch's questioning during Thomas's confirmation hearings and is not on record as confirmed by Thomas)

Poor "black" people! They just can't shake the stigma of being stereotypically "black," no matter how hard good-willing nigger-anecdoting "blacks" like Mr. Ellis try to explain their duty to other "blacks" to not think for themselves but align without restraint with the spineless Democrats that have failed to grasp power in the previous two and possibly next elections. How about "blacks" that think for themselves and want to associate with winners? Are they like Jews for Christ? How screwed up is that?

Mr. Ellis goes on to expose "black" Republicans like Mr. Allen and Justice Thomas that subscribe to a "hyper-whiteness," by "staking out positions that even whites in the South grew out of in the Fifties." Excuse me? Justice of the Supreme Court? Chief Domestic Policy Advisor to The President? Here Mr. Ellis's reasoning begins to fall apart, but he blindly continues by asserting the stereotypes "blacks" and "whites" (and Asians, and Arabs, and Eskimos?) apparently have when he states that it's "no wonder" that [black Republicans] "every now and again snap" by associating "petty criminality with 'blackness' and [romance] with "the size of [their] schlong[s]."

And there we have it. Mr. Ellis's own views don't seem to reach beyond these stereotypes and he certainly doesn't offer any other views here.
Therefore, his final wag of the finger whereby he lectures Mr. Allen and Justice Thomas not to associate " blackness" with crime, violence and sexuality is as lame as an, uh, lame dick.
Mr. Ellis seems quite content with the example he chooses of a Willie Horton whom he calls not "the sum of us [blacks]." His article does nothing for the "black" psyche of a free people, free to choose, and free of being a slave to their own history. In a way, Mr. Ellis has described himself, or rather summed himself up as someone who is confused about his own blackness. That's fine. The finger points back.

If I may then sum it up myself: there are plenty assholes, and they exist on either side of the very narrowly defined American political aisle, no matter what the color of their skin is. So, where's the hype? A greedy bigot Republican ought not to be defined otherwise than for what he or she stands for. Mr. Allen has merely operated in agreement with the current neo-con culture of deception, corruption, misinformation, murder, and torture. One day, he and his ilk may face greater consequences than being accused of stealing $5,000. Mr. Ellis, in my opinion, has written a racist piece and that's what I accuse him of.

posted by Rudolf Helder at Saturday, March 11, 2006

Intelligent Divide...

2007-04-23T22:45:00.000-07:00

When you have a headache do you rather take a pill, or pray to the Almighty? If you answer, pray to the Almighty, this blog’s for you, Bud.

Let’s travel back to 1925. Darwin's evolution was put on trial by a bunch of creationists. They accused a Tennessee teacher of lecturing that humans descended from a single cell. The idea! Creationists believe they’ve been modeled from play dough by a really big hand, sometime in the year numero uno. The teacher won. Darwin won, and science created the headache pill.
Now, in 2005, the whole shebang is getting a makeover, this time under the headliner, “Intelligent Design vs. Science.”

Sorry, Bud, but it was on the news. I guess you know, you don’t belong to the most informed nation in the industrialized world. Jay Leno even had you on Jaywalking a few times, to make a point that ordinary Americans are a hilariously under-educated bunch. As a subscriber to Darwin-principled science I’d go even further by saying your Intelligent Designer doesn’t seem to have favored you with that which has helped the rest of us evolve as a species: a large brain.

Of course, you may disagree, so let me sucker-punch you: besides my native Dutch I was taught three other languages in public school: French, German, and English. Right off the bat we learned there were more countries than our own. Made it easier for me later to pick up some Chinese and Indonesian—languages, dude, not food. You, on the other hand, still can’t differentiate between "your/you're," "its/it's," “were/where,” “hear/here,” “their/there,” “quit/quite/quiet,” and “to/too.”
And that makes deciphering your blogs hard work, mon!

Now, when we meet, you immediately notice I have “some kind of European” accent even before I have finished my first sentence. Besides not hearing what I said you fail to find The Netherlands on the map. Granted, it’s not a big blob like your country, but since you assert that I’m “from Scandinavia” I at least expect you to point to those countries that unlike The Netherlands make up that geographical group. You can’t. That spot your finger’s on is the Czech Republic. No, no, Turkey ain’t correct either.

During the eighteen years I’ve lived in the U.S. I’ve experienced you repeatedly assume I must be a political, cultural, religious, or economic refugee, someone you graciously shelter and share your “American Dream” with—which, by the way, may be a dream for you, but is a nightmare for many outside of your borders. Dude, I'm no refugee! The Netherlands is so advanced, they have national healthcare, multiple political parties, liberal drug policies you can only dream of, bicycle lanes, and sophisticated systems to keep the ocean out of their back yards.

Meanwhile, knowing squat about other countries, you thumb your nose at an increasingly more sophisticated world in which brown-skinned people, once they’re done stitching your Nikes, wipe their ass with every grade level of private education you so proudly support on your SUV’s Ivy League bumper stickers. If your Harvard can deliver a nitwit to the White House, don’t be surprised if I tell you Indians (no, not native Americans, you dummy) are running universities, businesses, and institutions that rival America’s. Now, they’ve had a “No Child Left Behind” policy for the last hundred years, enforced by every parent who could afford to buy their kids shoes and a schoolbag.

Sorry! I know, right now I have maneuvered you dangerously close to your threshold for criticism, and the little neurons in your brain have begun firing off pre-programmed pulses that translate into “Euro-trash,” “America-hater,” “Socialist,” “Communist,” or... Or what? Running out of labels already? How about “Moron,” “Asshole,” or “Prick?” After all, you feel only you have the right to criticize America, but how? Admit you’re not very creative when it comes to introspection. It’s always easier to just point your finger at your political opponents, be they “Liberals,” or “Conservatives.”
Well, you’re neither liberal, as in “free from bigotry and authoritarian dogmas, open to new ideas for progress, and tolerant of the ideas and behavior of others," nor conservative, as in "moderate, cautious, tending to conserve and preserve the use of natural resources.”

Is it because you basically live under a near-totalitarian regime, a frail and continuously faltering two-party system, in which the ruling 51% makes life miserable for the 49% that lost the last election? Is it because your idea of democracy is to relentlessly sabotage the other side’s political efforts, unrestrained by lies, treason, bribery, and character assassination? Is that why you have been trading in your hard-earned civil liberties lately without nary a stir from a population too preoccupied with reality shows to notice?

Still, you behave as if U.S. branded democracy and freedom are commodities no country can be without. Especially no Muslim theocracy. Yet, you are rapidly turning the U.S. into a Christian theocracy yourself, complete with the similar insane fanatical fundamental neoconservative religious extremists you say we must fight “over there.” Well, I wish you would learn to recognize their vermin counterparts “over here,” like fanatical right wing “religious” leader Pat Robertson in 2005 calling for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. Did anyone protest? I mean, any Christians? Is it because “kicking butt,” has become second nature to you, and you need little incentive to start spreading mayhem that may cost the lives of tens of thousands?

Is it because you have long forgotten how to have a decent and entertaining discussion, now that you’ve been conditioned to see everything in black and white, good and bad, left and right, red and blue? I have watched you quietly disintegrate during conversations, when confronted with facts like, for instance, Henry Ford supporting Hitler and the Nazis. Is it because you don’t know your own facts? That when it comes to ethics, freedom, democracy, and justice, America often behaves like a Mafia Don, more than a dove with an olive branch? Could that begin to explain why you could have helped create the very terrorists that are now defecating on your flag? I’ve tried Bud, but instead of looking for an answer you ask with tearful eyes, “Why does everyone hate us?”

And here lies the rub, dude; most people don’t hate America and Americans. There’s much to admire you for after you wiped out the buffalo and the Injuns, but no one cares for your ignorance of the facts and your standard “fuck you” response. Most people may even think Americans are funny and a little odd with their “best country in the world” syndrome. Dude, many of you have never even crossed state lines, let alone visited Belgium! You know, their neighbors, the French, are crazy about Jerry Lewis, and the Germans will always laugh at Dick und Dumb (Laurel and Hardy). The Dutch? Well sorry, Pal, they think you’re pussies for not being able to keep your backyard dry.

Which brings me to another thing: will you ever look abroad for solutions you desperately need at home? You think you know everything. True, Tommy Ridge taught us that duct tape can protect you from chemical terror attacks, but you couldn’t find any WMD’s after you started a whole war just to locate them. I’ve met you while traveling. You’re usually lost, and that while you’re just trying to find a MacDonald’s so you don’t have to eat the local food. Now that you are in Iraq, have you learned anything about the culture? Ate a falafel? Rented an Iraqi DVD (hint: they’re in the foreign movie section)? Or, explored Iraqi music at your local record store? See, you don’t give a shit! How can you liberate a people you don’t care about? You’re like the boy scout carrying an old lady through traffic, while all she did was wave at her grandchild on the school bus—you know, that smoke-belching pre-WWII yellow scrap you carry kids around in. What’s up with that old shit, dude? Aren’t your kids the future? Don’t they deserve modern buses? That reminds me of your furniture: most U.S. designers seem to get their inspiration from the All In The Family set and create furniture for Archie Bunker’s behind. That’s a long run for the La-Z-Boy, boy.

Maybe that’s the reason why America, while arguably more modern than Cuba, still seems mired in the past. Your roads are in need of repair, lacking sidewalks, street lights, and street signs; old ugly utility poles litter your skyline, your offices and living rooms have fake veneer walls, and your vinyl siding is made to look like wood.
Is that the American Dream you speak of at every opportunity: everything just like the real thing? Fake tits, fake pearls, fake dog testicles, fake orgasms, fake Christians, and now fake science: “Intelligent Design…”

No wonder, you live in a fantasy world in which you’re king; Mattress King; Tire King; Grocery King. And next, Oil King! But hold on buster, you’re an emperor with trillions in debt—you don’t actually own anything and have to borrow from the Saudis and your grandchildren’s social security funds. And yet, calling you on your bullshit is tantamount to treason. Well, I have news for you; your country’s being kept afloat by other nations that haven’t quite collected the last bloody dollar from your Treasury Bonds.

These nations used to be friends, but on your last escapade few came along, because you resorted to lies, name-calling, and French fries renaming. You are no longer welcome where you used to be. You’ve isolated yourself. So then, prepare to live out your days in the gated community that America has become, complete with Mexican guards. You will have to eat your unsigned Kyoto Treaty, choke on your own pollution, your chemical rivers, your acid rain, and the genetically engineered tasteless micro-waved crap you call food. And if you aren’t killing each other first with your gazillion handguns, Uzis, AK-47’s, and other assault guns, you might as well just sit tight and wait until the terminally-pissed-off terrorists get a hold of the WMD’s you yourself have stockpiled within your own borders.
Yep, it’s all working out quite neatly for you, isn’t it, dude?

Could you have done anything differently? Probably not. I’m afraid you religious creeps have become so predictable there’s not an original idea coming out of you anymore, but then you surprise everyone with a rerun of creationism, this time deceptively relabeled “Intelligent Design.”

By now you may have concluded, along with the rest of the world, that “America,” “Intelligent,” and “Design,” are words that don’t go well together in one sentence. Don’t understand me wrong, I do know that you have some smart folks amongst you that in the past have engineered stupendous stuff, like the Chrysler Building, the atomic bomb, and telescopes that can fly past the moon, but these folks are a dying breed, and you know it. They’re the bespectacled intelligentsia; engineers, architects, and scientists—coincidentally, once your ‘A’ students, children every parent would be proud of. In theory they could fix some of the humungous problems you helped create, like global warming, or improve levees that keep out the ocean, but where you are going intellectuals and their stem-cell research are not needed, because from here onward you’re riding the A-Train to Armageddon.

After all your hard thinking, you have concluded that life’s too complex for your burdened brains and that only some super being like, let’s say, the omni-present, yet invisible, terminally-pissed-off and cruel Almighty of the Catholic Circus could have been tinkering with the little cells, veins, fins, flapping wings, leaves, and trees. Oh, suddenly everything in nature fits neatly your “My Pet Goat” story for grownups called “Intelligent Design,” a thinly disguised version of Genesis that contains none of that confusing evolution stuff that first has fish crawling onto land and turn into birds. Oh no! As evangelical realists you put your faith instead in a talkative snake, a babbling bush, and a lone rib that turns into a complex woman. Makes for a great movie. Something Tim Burton could sink his twisted teeth into.

So, gradually it's coming to this: after Pol Pot in Cambodia, Hitler in Nazi Germany, Stalin in Russia, and slews of dictators, madmen, and syphilis-crazed kings before Bush, you are now about to muffle the U.S. intelligentsia, its thinkers, its innovators, engineers, programmers, architects, teachers, chemists, professors, and every scientist you can chase down. Before you ship them off to your concentration camps, to your mental institutions, your gulags, and labor camps, you may offer them to save their hide by denouncing Darwin’s theory of evolution and instead go with the Pope’s and Pat Robertson’s sanctioned legend of a carpenter, a fisherman, and a whore who, if they visited today would be appalled to learn what evil has been and is about to be committed in their name.

Just like the Muslims can’t forget that the Crusaders kicked their cottoned heinies hundreds of years ago, so have the idiot fundamentalist abortion clinic bombing Christians been brooding on kicking the collective ass of intellectuals with an open mind and a critical attitude that makes short work of their ancient cult, its priests’ abusive practices, and detrimental influence on society’s progress.
The idiots among you that are now challenging evolution do that 80 years after the first Monkey Trial and 313 years after the Salem witch hunts, right at a time when we have made enormous progress by applying Darwin’s principles in every aspect of science, be it medicine, biology, biophysics, biochemistry, or anything else with which we try to explain our physical existence. Scientists are about to find a cure for cancer when your prayers could not; and scientist will be the ones to find a cure for AIDS—not your Intelligent Designer you suspect of giving it to us in the first place to punish us for our sins, something He seems to be quite fond of.

Unlike religious fanatics whose narrow world view is based on an old book with cryptic contributions from many writers, for a scientist life is ever evolving, based on forever questioning, and ever inching closer to discovering another truth, revealing itself like layers of an onion being peeled back, promising a cure, a new possibility, a different view. Science is a state of constant wonderment, and much has been accomplished by the curious.
Your Christian demagogues on the other hand may lead you into Bible prayer groups (and into forking over money), but don’t seem to know how to interpret Jesus’ words without creating war upon war, slavery and oppression, discrimination and inequality, and constant suffering wherever they bring the “good news.” Your religious leaders ask you to make sense of a God that can ask you to slaughter your first-born son, but if you actually hear His voice, like Pat Robertson claims he does, you'll find little sympathy even among your fanatical peers if you carry out such an insane request, and you will go to jail, or more likely, a mental institution. That’s because reasonable people have devised laws that protect us from religious fanatics.

Still, the stakes are high, as we edge closer to a totalitarian theocracy with every victory you extreme fundamentalist evangelical Christians score. This time, the deluded "scientists" who defend intelligent design during your new Monkey Trial are well-groomed debaters, but nevertheless they are effectively saying not to bother with research because hey, it’s way too difficult.
Crap!
As species we got as far as we have by applying logic and cleverly bypassing the church’s ominous and stifling influence whenever possible. Otherwise the world would still be flat, the sun would be turning around the world, and we would be riding horse-drawn buggies, wear tall black hats and long beards. Not to mention, many scientists would have died a natural death, rather than burning at the stakes that you always seem to keep preheated. If you want proof of what a theocratic society looks like, look no further than Arab countries and how time has largely stood still there.

Now America’s powerful and political religious zealots want to return to biblical times as well and drag us all along. Soon, Hollywood will burn. Hemlines will drop to below the knee, and de-liberated women can start growing hair again in previously undesirable regions. Men will go on crusades to spread the freedom you’re denying our own women, our own homosexual children, and try to steal the oil that keeps our economy moving. Meanwhile, your greedy eyes are fixed East for the return of the “Son of God.” As if you deceptive, lying, cheating, and murdering bastards of all people would know how to treat someone who makes that claim. Hopefully, you’ll recognize Him before he’s picked up for behaving suspiciously near The Green Zone, sent to Abu Grahib, crucified by the CIA, and raised from the grave for an autopsy.

If you find that scenario even remotely plausible, you’re showing to have a sufficiently large brain after all. Doubt is the way to salvation, Pal, not dogma. Why not debate how our brains’ size may have evolved over supper? If you turn out to be an entertaining and interesting guest it doesn't have to be our last one...

© 2005 Rudolf Helder

Socrates Superstar...

2007-04-23T22:44:00.001-07:00

I don’t know who in the next century will be remembered as this century’s superstar, but my guess is that it’s probably not going to be J-Lo. For those that’ll come after us I hope that unlike us they won't be stuck with the same old All-Time-Cast-of-The-Ages. First, there’s Jesus Christ, by far the most popular and a real superstar, but after Mel Gibson’s portrayal there’s not much room for a sequel. A prequel perhaps...
So, in our ongoing thirst for historical drama we’ve feasted on a whole legion of lesser players that nevertheless made it to Hollywood stardom, such as Ben-Hur and Sinbad-The-Sailor. But, with Gladiator and Troy, we are fast running out of suitable heroes.

I know, there’s still Castor and Pollux, and I thought for a moment about their storyline that goes something like: Castor and Pollux were the offspring of Leda and the Swan (problem #1). Leda gave birth to an egg (problem #2), from which sprang the twins. Helen, their sister, who later became famous as the cause of the Trojan war, was one day kidnapped from Sparta by Theseus and his friend Pirithous (confusing) and rescued by Castor and Pollux. Next, the twins went on the Argonautic expedition (The Life Aquatic?). During the voyage a storm arose, and Orpheus (who?) prayed to the gods, and played on his harp, whereupon the storm ceased (problem #3) and stars appeared on the heads of the brothers (problem #4).

For the life of me, while this is a terrific script, I can’t see it turned into a believable movie, except for the kidnapping part.

Then there’s that Minotaur (recycle into a Phantom of the Opera story), Hercules (very old hat), and a slew of lesser bit-players, but how truly exciting were any of these guys in real life? Eating grapes during ongoing orgies doesn’t make for holistic family entertainment. No, if we as true Darwinians want to evolve further we will have to start selecting heroes of a different kind, with a more uplifting storyline. Football-player-turned-soldier Pat Tillman was on my list for a while but his tale of opportunistic Pentagon propaganda combined with vengeful friendly fire has yet to be written with honesty. Of course, as hero Jesus has much to offer, but when I once offered the other cheek it didn’t work out very well, and come to think of it, neither did it for him. So, it’s time to put the smacking, punching, stabbing, machinegun fire, poisonings, and beheadings behind us.
I think we need a different kind of historical hero. One that can teach us something other than that screwing your own mom is a bad idea. Really, what has Troy, or Hercules, taught us that you can wrap your mind around and have a solid discussion about?

I’d like to see a movie about Socrates.
Socrates’ life marks such an important point in history that it’s defined by pre- and post-Socratic periods. Having lived a few hundred years before Christ, Socrates could be a sort of transitional hero with a storyline that has no daggers but still an itsy bitsy poison before the lights come on.

As a young man, Socrates became fascinated with new scientific ideas and listened to debates by local philosophers.
He was a searcher and soon neither science nor philosophy could satisfy him. He wondered: “What is 'self?'” While the temple of Apollo at Delphi prominently displayed the phrase, “Know Thyself!” it proved to be a maddingly difficult task. Socrates felt that in spite of all the philosophizing people had little curiosity about the status of a self; in a way they were a little like today’s partying-like-there’s-no-tomorrow “conservatives,” comfortable in the belief that “self” is constantly needy for more pleasure, more prestige, and more power, or money. Socrates’ peers further thought that no one would ever act against his or her own interest, regardless of how people talked as though they would. Socrates reasoned that until we know what true human nature and excellence is we are engaging in false pretenses.

Socrates stood for the development of moral character through the practice of open dialogue. He devoted himself to free discussion with the young citizens of Athens, insistently questioning their confidence in the truth of popular opinions. Socrates declined to accept payment for his work with students, many of which were fanatically loyal to him. Their parents, however, became displeased with his influence on their offspring, and his association with opponents of the regime had made him a controversial political figure. A jury found him guilty of corrupting the youth of Athens and interfering with the religion of the city, and they sentenced him to death in 399 B.C. Gracefully accepting this outcome, Socrates drank poison and died in the company of his friends and disciples.

I think that more than a bunch of primitive power brokers slaughtering each other’s CGI armies, a portrayal of such a thoughtful man seems just about the right kind of hero in a time we’re about to slit each other’s throats and turn the US into another Serbia.

Socrates’ struggle may offer us a spellbinding assessment of the current battle between steadfast ignorance of looming environmental disasters and the absence of critical inquiry into extreme far-right doctrines. Socrates wanted to destroy the illusion that we comprehend the world and make us accept our ignorance—something many have an inert problem with. Socrates believed in the possibility of acquiring knowledge, by discovering universal definitions of the key concepts governing human life.

To me, Socrates appears as a man for our time, at once satisfying our need for a historical context of our own humanity and offering faith in a livable future, as well as providing an example of believing in one’s own need for truth and honesty, especially in a time when our leaders lie to us and try to stifle our intellect with the most ridiculously notions of science backed by medieval religion.

It’s important to mention that Socrates dismissed the notion of piety, of doing whatever is pleasing to the gods—the external authority of his days. He argued that defining morality in reference to (god or government), suffers from a logical dilemma about the origin of our own inherent "goodness," which he viewed as originating from within. But, during his imprisonment he also argued that an individual citizen—even if the victim of unjust treatment—can not refuse to obey the law. With that statement he miraculously rises above the status of rebel, or even that of insurgent. He merely accepted that after laying down the truth as he saw it he could do no more than placing his fate in the hands of corrupt and misguided individuals who acted with a political agenda and merely sought to snuff out his flame.

That makes him a martyr in my eyes—a hero who tried to carefully investigate the nature of virtue itself. Most remarkably, Socrates states that knowledge and virtue are so closely related, no human ever knowingly does evil: we all do what we believe to be best. Improper conduct, then, can only be a product of our ignorance rather than a symptom of weakness of the will. In other words, one can regain one’s true virtue by being open to reason and being willing to change. In a time where Christian and Islamic doctrine are heading for a massive nuclear fueled confrontation under leadership of near-fascist theocrats, Socrates’ value as an independent and open-minded thinker can not be emphasized enough.

Hollywood hooligans, what are you waiting for?

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Shooting at Shadows...

2007-04-23T22:42:00.000-07:00

“Then the terrorists will have won.”
You’re familiar with the phrase. It’s used to bolster our resolve, inflame our fighting spirit, and shut up the Administration’s critics that beg for our troops to come home—kids of eighteen shooting at shadows, getting killed daily by a faceless and stateless enemy, variously labeled “suicide bombers,” “terrorists,” “insurgents,” “islamists,” “radical Muslims,” “jihadists,” “intifadah,” “mujihaddeen,” “al-jazeera,” “hamas,” “al qaeda,” “Taliban,” or simply “extremists.”
Confused?
Indeed, it’s as maddening as hearing “liberals,” or “neocons” and not knowing what sets a Neo Conservative apart from a regular Conservative.
Without the Administration defining it any better, “terrorism” is quite too broad a term to dedicate a war to. It worries me that a war without a clear focus could in principle extend to become a catchall for everything that doesn’t jive with those in power. Kind of like the way it is in a totalitarian regime—such as the former Soviet Union. Or a Muslim theocracy—like Iran. Or a Christian theocracy. You know, the one we’re rapidly moving toward…

We need to demand a clear definition of what it is we’re supposed to be fighting, or next we could be taking on the entire pissed-off Muslim world or anyone FOX-News labels an extremist with a liberal agenda, like uh, Cindy Sheehan. Or do you rather stick with the handy term “insurgent?” According to my dictionary an insurgent is one who justly opposes the tyranny of constituted authorities…
Hm. Odd that the Administration has made that its favorite term.
Could we be fighting opponents of tyranny? What kind of tyranny could we possibly impose on Muslims? Invasion and destruction of holy sites? Christian doctrine? The siphoning off of oil fields?

Not to worry, folks, the quagmire's going to be over soon according to Vice President Dick Cheney, who said on Larry King that the insurgency is in its last throes.
Now, you should know, I’m very fond of the word “throes” and I use it all the time. It means “a condition of agonizing struggle or trouble.”
Wait!
Wouldn’t that make you almost sympathize with these underdogs in their throes?
Not if we paint them as elusive killers with supposedly Russia-obtained nukes that have us trembling in our Nikes.

Sure, for the next round the military will retrain its decimated forces. The CIA will get it right. We will purchase new, more effective weapons: Mini helicopters for snooping on the enemy— turbaned teams of Kalashnikov-hugging men in a dusty Toyota pickup truck threatening our way of life; Cave-busting drones to ferret out old-what’s-his-name.
The made-for-TV game of hide and seek and stealthy attack will continue, but I believe the War on Terror was lost the day it was declared. Like the War on Poverty, The War on Drugs, The War on Whatever, it is an unwinnable event, wrapped around a catch phrase, for which there’s not going to emerge a “winner,” an all-American hero to be played by Mel Gibson or Russell Crowe.
Instead, Americans will need to get used to the images the hurricanes Katrina and Rita have anchored in our not-so-sub-conscious, images of tens of thousands of citizens in peril, filing out of a region in barely moving, slowly-running-out-of-gas SUVs. Hell, who cares about terrorists in some faraway place when the weather and corrupt politicians conspire to kill you first? Terrible events for which there’s no duck tape will inevitably take place. If anything, the Administration has made that clear, when Bush recently referred to, “the mistakes of past administrations.” That’s getting mightily close to admitting that we have created the shadowy terrorists ourselves. It’s like admitting that perhaps we’re creating these “natural disasters” ourselves. It’s like admitting we could be doing things equally wrong today. But the policies haven’t changed and they aren’t bound to. They’re still lining the pockets of Halliburton and the richest contributors to the GOP’s election campaign.
We’re learning that all that’s left to expect from our governing friends are cleanup operations and acting like you’re wearing a thinking cap when you’re too dumb to correctly name your enemy, or comprehend the Kyoto Accord’s significance in fighting global warming .

So, if we can’t expect foresight, vision, and educated talent to solve the problems facing us where are we as citizens supposed to turn to? The church, that protects priests but not our children? A church, that is witness to “acts of god” that are manmade? A church that’s powerful enough to have politicians mandate scientists stop exploring areas that cause theological schizophrenia? Think again. The men of the cloth aren’t exactly problem solvers. Not in Iraq and Iran and not in Rome or Washington. So, without anything going to change we can be sure that the problems will multiply to finally strangle us—be they terrorist, or environmental, or both… Am I the only one who pictures bin Laden watching CNN and discussing how to create Katrina-like events based on our ignorance and unwillingness to create security for everyone, including, yes, including the terrorists, those shadowy figures we helped create, much in the way Mickey created the mops in Fantasia?
Without correctly identifying and acknowledging our problems and opening a dialogue, better get used to vehicles clogging freeways as liberals and republicans alike flee their homes. It’s not going to matter if your government’s ineptness did you in or the terrorists’ resolve—they’re dancers in a deadly embrace.

Yes, America is losing its innocence fast and it’s high time.
Maybe this time a Green Party will look like a valid alternative with an emphasis on the environment. Clearly, we can’t keep voting for the same guys that are making today’s mistakes. Are you comfortable with the idea of your eighteen year-old shooting at shadows in some oil-rich region of the world?

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Face Value...

2007-04-23T22:41:00.001-07:00

Class, today we’re going to be talking about subjective interpretation, or, taking things at face value. Now, in life we learn many things, from our parents, teachers, supervisors, peers, and whatever we retain is what we base our decisions and opinions on. With me on that?

Okay. Let’s make a quick jump to the week Hurricane Katrina hit. Remember President Bush’s demeanor? While New Orleans catastropically tanked, the news informed us Bush was busy campaigning, playing guitar, and most of all vacationing, in spite of his homework of having to skim through Mark Kurlansky's book “History Of Salt,” John Barry's “The Great Flu Pandemic of 1918,” and Edvard Radzinsky's “Alexander II: The Last Great Tsar.” Light reading for you and me, but a gargantuan task for someone who has been spotted holding “My Pet Goat” upside down.

Now, for subjective interpretation. Remember how disgusted the entire nation was, including the ever-forgiving Religious Right, when the president failed to acknowledge in a timely and compassionate-conservative manner the horrific events taking place in New Orleans? When he finally strode into New Orleans, wide-armed, shirt sleeves rolled up, it was too late to erase that first impression, no matter in how many directions he pointed from that truck he climbed onto. All fingers were pointing at him. We, as a nation, had taken him at face value, and no spin or blame game was going to change that. It was like that photo op with the bullhorn and firemen on the twin tower rubble never happened, and all we remember is how the president of the United States had sat through two terrorist attack reports in a preschool classroom without stirring once.

You see, when we take things at face value, we instinctively judge things before our rationale—or FOX-News’s spin—have a chance to dilute our first impression with glib, intelligently phrased, "objective" chatter. Sure, there’s a place for rationale, discussion, pro and con in our thinking, but what if we’re constantly being told that first impressions don’t count? That Brownie is doing a heck of a job? What if you subscribe to some political, religious, or social platform, and those doctrines dictate that you think accordingly, before your subjective interpretation has time to start a process of reflection, questioning, doubt… and arriving at conclusions that are all your own? Subjectively yours.

Class, I’d like to make a case for subjective interpretation, and I’d like to make you revisit the judge John G. Roberts hearings, and how quickly you dismissed shots that revealed our senators body language and showed that some, after asking a question, contently crossed it off their list without listening to the judge’s reply or pose a follow-up question. What does that tell you? Class, these are the people you vote into seats of power and I want you to begin paying attention to such signals. Simply put, I want you to start taking things at face value. Be subjective.

Anecdote: For a while I was seeing this Japanese woman. She’d lived in the US for several years, but was neither interested in politics nor fluent in English. One time, as we watched the news she told me she liked democrats. Why, I asked. Well, she’d noticed that every time a politician had a friendly, calm face it was a democrat, and every time a politician’s face showed anger, or discontent it turned out to be a republican. I made me laugh, but the point had been made: she’d taken these people at face value and the interpretation made sense to her.

So, I’d like to give you an exercise and subjectively interpret the faces of the following lia.., uh, people: John Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, Condoleeza Rice, Donald Rumsfeld… Any rightwinger will do. Then, pick some politicians of the opposition and repeat the exercise. Of course, you must try to see—not just look.

What can we learn from this? That we’re born with a blank expression and have a lifetime to plaster our demeanor onto it. So, my conclusion is that what you see is what you get. Now, in life we learn many things, from our parents, teachers, supervisors, peers, etc. Then there are things you got to figure out for yourself by using your gut. You can call that subjective interpretation. Fine. Take it at face value. Reports due next week. Class dismissed!

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Intelligent Design...

2007-04-23T22:40:00.001-07:00

I have lived in the US for almost 20 years. Why that is significant, is because I find myself regularly comparing the US I encountered at my time of immigration and the US I experience today as a resident.
Coming from Europe, where everything old is quaint, and everything contemporary is well-designed I have often stood astonished at America’s widespread disregard of its history. I’m not talking about the almost propagandistic US history taught to America’s youngsters—at the exclusion of world history at large. I’m talking about its buildings, bridges, houses, neighborhoods. You’ve seen the dilapidated streets in large cities. Neighborhoods and buildings with character left to rot, houses in Victorian style ready to fall down, or an entire city wrecked by the shoddy engineering of a bunch of brittle levees.

In a lowest-bid-wins world, when there are no higher ideals, no higher aims, no desires to preserve, to restore, to improve, everything is allowed to slowly turn into the abandoned cardboard homeless people crawl under to keep dry.

Today, there’s a lot of talk about intelligent design. If you don’t know what it is you can look it up. I’m all for it. Foresight, rather than intelligent design was available when the first levees were built in the late 1800’s, but intelligent design was still absent when their purpose was last evaluated.

If you want to attribute intelligent design to your god, that’s your prerogative, but god doesn’t build levees, the Dutch do. If you’re more interested in attributing intelligent design to someone or something you can’t see, feel, or smell, yet created the heavens and the pimple on which we live maybe you’re overlooking the intelligent design that should go into every man-made project. The cars you build should not blow up and burn everyone inside, and neither should your levees break and if one does, there should be intelligent design that deals with such a “what if” scenario. Like, duh, a second levee, or a system of dikes, ditches, and containing walls. A system that could allow flooding of one area, but not all areas…

If you’re unfamiliar with the intelligent design the Dutch applied to safeguard their below sea level country from the ocean you really ought to study the Dutch Delta waterworks, especially if you are Army Corps of Engineers long associated with America's appaling slate of yearly floodings and faced with an annual review of a historical American town below sea level, like, for instance, New Orleans.

Then again, putting the protection of dry land into the hands of the Army Corps of Engineers may not be such a good idea, as their recommendations may be compromised with low bid contract awarding, resulting in a single cement wall to keep an entire ocean at bay. The Dutch on the other hand, having spared no expense built themselves a protection system that not only takes into account the threat of the elements, but also consecutive threats if the first defense fails. Systems of dikes, water management, levees, and pumps are intelligently designed to thwart as much as possible occurrences as have taken place in, let’s say, Bangladesh, or New Orleans.

Did I mention I’m Dutch? Imagine my growing bewilderment when at least three weeks went by after Hurricane Katrina and the demise of New Orleans before anyone (I believe it was Chris Matthews of MSNBC’s Hardball) mentioned the Dutch storm-water systems.
Days later Al Franken, of The Al Franken Show on Air America, featured a Dutch ex-minister who illuminated him on what the Dutch installed to protect their country.

Now, as I write this, the levees in New Orleans are breaking again, this time under pressure from Hurricane Rita’s rainfall. Is it not maddening that after 4 weeks a second flooding identical to the first is occurring? Whatever had been done to stop the first flooding apparently did not include shoring up the levees that had not broken yet.
Now, what I’d like to hear next time someone mentions intelligent design, is the good news that the best heads have come together to design a practical and lasting solution for a long-ignored problem. And, this is probably hardest for Americans to accept, but think Nike, think call-centers, think Wall-Mart: if you can’t get it here, go overseas and outsource. I’m sure there are some excellent Dutch engineers sitting by the phone right now, ready to apply intelligent design to any dike worthy of their twiddling thumbs…

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Checks and Balances...

2007-04-23T22:38:00.000-07:00

As I write these blogs, I wonder who my audience is. You see, I'm becoming convinced that it's increasingly a matter of us and them. Or, as Kipling remarked, "East is Left, and Right is Wrong, and never the twain shall eat." Exactly such a divide is splitting America in two. There are those that see it the Republican, and Libertarian way, and those that see it the Democrat, or Liberal way. Wedged in between exists a gray mass of the Undecided. Well, if you're undecided, my feelings are that you should support through your taxes whichever party is in ruling power. However, with decisions on either side often being controversial and unacceptable to the other side I feel that a new and fairer method of Checks and Balances is in order.

I have lived in this country for almost 20 years and I cannot say I have witnessed before the disregard currently reserved for those on the other side of the political aisle. I've seen cases of nose-thumbing where the Republicans felt they could stick it to the Democrats for losing the election. I've read up just a bit on the American Constitution and it strikes me that such animosity wasn't at all what the founding fathers had in mind.

Now, the Constitution has seen many amendments and I believe it's due for another one, this one with respect to how a ruling government's causes are being funded. What I propose is that sympathizers of both political ideologies officially proclaim their allegiance and are thusly identified for tax purposes. I further propose that corporations and businesses do the same, and wear their political affiliation on their sleeve, right next to their company logo. These measures will help citizens with specific leanings put their money where their mouths are, and it will enable the IRS to funnel tax payers' money to those causes that these citizens and their party support. For example, if the GOP decides to invade another country it will have to recruit from its Red base and the Undecided population, while the Blue base, being in opposition can be comfortable in the knowledge that none of their resources are going to be used for a cause to which they don't subscribe, not even if the Draft is reinstated.

This new system of Checks and Balances will also afford political parties ways to keep a closer tab on what the voter feels about the way they're being represented. Ultimately, when a funding stream begins to dwindle because certain causes are no longer supported by the population their representatives will be forced to pay close attention.
People will be allowed to switch parties, but only after a cooling-off period in the Undecided pool, so as not to create a sudden imbalance of power. When the next elections come along they are permitted to re-assign their allegiance.

Companies that make contributions to a specific political party should be allowed to do so, as long as they are identified by allegiance. Thus, a Blue company cannot make contributions to a Red party, whereas an Undecided company can make contributiions to both. Naturally, the Reds may not be in favor of organized labor. Consequently, those that are may align themselves with the Blue base where social concerns are more a way of life.

The scope of this blog prevents me from going into too much detail about my proposal, but it's my vision that in the future we will see a transition to a system where ideology (or the absence thereof) is directly related to its funding stream.

Now, what if a President bungles, ah, let's say, an emergency response to a large scale disaster, such as a breached levee? In such a case, if people strongly disapprove they can withdraw support by giving up their base color and moving into the Undecided pool. While that becomes a measurable indication of people's support or lack thereof, it will not immediately cause an interruption of funding. That may happen if they switch to another party when the elections come around.

Of course, this amendment in the way that taxes are levied, may give rise to new political parties, perhaps with specific environmental agendas, like a Green party. If senators of parties are in agreement about health care measures, or otherwise, fundings from all three parties' members can flow toward such cause, but Green citizens should not have to pay for measures their Green representatives do not vote in favor of.

It's like going Dutch for lunch, but with a political twist.

All in favor for more fairness say "Aye."

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Imagine...

2007-04-23T22:37:00.000-07:00

If the people of Germany would've had email and Internet in 1933, could World War II and the extermination of 6 Million Jews have been avoided? Would anyone have started a blog on February 27, 1933 criticizing Weimar Republic President Paul von Hindenburg for appointing Adolf Hitler Chancellor?
Would anyone have questioned the circumstances under which a feeble-minded Dutch "communist," Marinus van der Lubbe was quickly captured, accused, and executed as the arsonist that burned down The Reichstag—Germany's Parliament, a building as significant as, let’s say, The World Trade Center?

When soon thereafter, upon declaring a national emergency, Hitler began suspending civil liberties including expression of opinion, freedom of the press, and right to privacy, and created his version of Homeland Security, which included the later much-feared SS storm troopers and Gestapo special police forces, would anyone with a yahoo account have notified the world of possible dire consequences?

Today, as citizens within an age of electronic communication we can ask ourselves, "what are we witnessing now?" "Where do all these seemingly loose ends lead?" "Why did Dick Cheney lie about WMD's?" Or, "Who are the modern-day Herman Görings, the Rudolf Hesses, the Joseph Goebbels?"

The conditions that gave rise to Hitler's Third Reich, can be recreated anytime by instilling a fear within the population for great external threats, such as weapons of mass destruction (in other hands than ours), terrorism (not carried out by us), and epidemics (not released from a lab by us). The "evil-doers" are not referred to by name, except in the case of Saddam. The name bin Laden is seldom mentioned, whereas the invisible "Al Qaeda," is what we are told to fear, even as we publicly disclose our latest security holes, such as shipping containers loaded abroad.

While historians may not agree if a communist plot involving Marinus van der Lubbe, or the Nazis themselves had a hand in the Reichstag fire, can we be sure that a similar scenario is not being played out by those whose abilities to make deals with powerful corporations far outdistances our scrutiny?
It’s for this reason that I keep thinking about the people who after WWI witnessed the Nazi state rising out of the ashes of a devastated Germany. A large incident, such as the Reichstag fire worked out really well for the Nazis (to paraphrase Barbara Bush's comment at the Super Dome). Well, 9/11 has worked out really well for the Bushes. Now they have set their sights on making Jeb Bush the next emperor in the dynasty they're seeking to establish. At what cost to us? To the world?

One has to wonder what magnificent powers are at work that within a nation of 350 Million, 3 members of the same clan—none appearing too brilliant—can become leaders of the "free world." Can someone ask Bill Clinton that question? What's he smoking these days that he keeps cozying up to the Bushes? Doesn't he have a dynasty of his own to attend to?

In 1933 the Nazis were able to advance their cause at the expense of surrounding nations, the Jews in Germany and other nations, and later at the expense of many Asian nations by teaming up with the Emperor of Japan. The extent of suffering that resulted from Hitler's quick rise to power in 1933 is simply incomprehensible.

Should we then not be vigil, when we are witnessing the foundation being laid for a new Empire? Should we not reserve the right to question every move by an Administration that acts more and more like the Catholic Politburo, but is really just a fraternity of old friends?
When Mao had everybody waving little red books, children betrayed their parents and many died terrible deaths in prison camps during what is now regarded in China as an unfortunate and embarrassing period. So then, can it not happen here with all the “God in The White House” rambling going on? Are we that different from the fearful families under Hitler, the trembling parents in Mao's Cultural Revolution, the manipulated masses under Saddam, the terrified citizens of New Orleans, flooded out of their houses because of the Bush Administration’s appetite for war funds? Society is head over heels militarizing. There are now at least 3 channels on my TV related to military might—and its culture of death and destruction.

Ask yourself, as someone living in the new Millennium with cool wireless access to electronic media, how would you feel if years from now you realized you had witnessed evil rise and had done nothing but turn up your iPod?
Do you know how many Muslims and other terror suspects are currently held in American prisons without due process?
Do you care? Do you care if your government bombs Afghanistan, then rounds up anyone with a gun, kidnap them, and imprison them in Cuba, bypassing the Geneva Convention a previous Administration had ratified? Do you care if your government is found to torture Iraqi and Afghani civilians, or have it done for us by Syrians and Egyptians? Do you care what citizens of other nations think of an America that can no longer lecture China and Burma on human rights?
Perhaps this time we are empowered as individuals to see through the new laws that enable Government to hold its own citizens without due process for unlimited time. Maybe you think Jose Padilla had it coming, but the same law pertains to you, your neighbors, your friends, and your children...

Soon, another election comes around. During the last one the Secret Service played a questionable part in keeping non-Republicans out of the circus tent. Why? It all looks so innocent. Arnold sure will make us laugh again.
Yes, I mustn’t be paranoid, but don’t you sense it when something isn't quite right? I can't quite put my finger on it or see the end game, the way Rummy can. I believe the Jews are safe within their self-erected Patriot missile defended ghetto. It could have something to do with oil, nuclear energy, and Christian doctrine administered by Marines—quite possibly to President Chavez of Venezuela, just like in the fatwa from religious Nazi Pat Robertson (no doubt drunk with righteousness after his voodoo doll took out Judge Rehnquist to make room for John Roberts).

Within one year, with just a few short strokes of the pen Adolf Hitler became dictator. It happened in Germany, in Stalin's Russia, Iraq, and Mao's China, but of course, it couldn't happen here, not with that charmingly bumbling, folksy, deeply caring, church-going chap W.
Or could it? Has anyone seen the plan?
If history has taught us anything, it's that status quo can be destroyed by a single large crisis, followed by elimination of civil liberties and increasing police and military powers. Let's say, under those conditions a whole airplane can disappear into the Pentagon, never to be found... Let's say under those conditions a President could invade a country that has absolutely not threatened us... Under those conditions elections will be rigged... Under those conditions whoever dissents shall be silenced...

Imagine, if we wouldn't have email and Internet today.
Well, we do, so perhaps we have already thwarted a catastrophe.
If you believe that, you can go right back to sleep.

©2005 Rudolf Helder

And The Real Guilty Are...

2007-04-23T22:36:00.001-07:00

The real guilty are those that voted for George Bush and the Republican Party the first time and voted again for them once the lying had become fact, the dead soldiers had come home, and all the indications were there that the GOP and this Administration do not function for the good of the people. Not just the common people. Not even just the American people...

Yes, the finger-pointing has begun, and some carefully selected heads will roll, but let's not leave out those Americans that like to shrug their shoulders over global warming, environmental protection, lost pension funds, energy fraud, Saudi Arabian dictators, and think that Liberal stands for Communist, Terrorist, America-Hater, Traitor, or worse, Pro-Choicer, or Gay-Lover.
Indeed, America's grossly misinformed and easily manipulated masses must share the blame for the ineptness of its leaders.

However, rather than condemn the ignoramuses that live among us, who rather believe the lies, support the ad infinitum repeated crappy rhetoric of the Administration, the spin of the evil-eyed Bill O'Reilly, the beligerent uncommon sense of Joe Scarborough, the twisted hate of that snake face Hannity, the deceit of Rush Limbaugh, and the false evangelism of Pat Robertson's, to those we must extend the scepter of Reason, Introspection, Redemption, and a pair of highly corrective eyeglasses.

Your misguided Christianity and gluttonous lifestyle have turned into the toxic sludge that festers under the quiet waters reflecting the blue skies over New Orleans. Together, you have choked that city and every living being in it; moreover you have already polluted our rivers, muffled our media, lined the pockets of the corrupt politicians and their cronies, ambushed our right to privacy, and turned this country into a breeding ground for extremist religious fanatics like Eric Rudolph, a place that like a slowly ripening stinking cheese is creeping toward an ideological war between its Red and Blue denizens. Serbs and Croats used to live side by side before they turned on one another. Perhaps now is the time to look inward, replace un-nuanced one-liners with lively discussion, forego cartoon-kicking the elusive "bad guys" asses, stop playing god over the inhabitants of faraway oil-rich, but uncomfortably religiously fanatical lands, and confess that you've been an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny wrong all along. But as Bob Dylan sings, "Don't follow leaders, watch your parking meters." Indeed, you're finding yourself parked in a handicapped stall and it's not too late to back out before Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, and George Bush, the three lying, treacherous meter maids of evil axis demagogue, arrive to tow us all up shit creek in a leaky swift boat and leave us with a bible for a paddle.

Let's hope that you will find the courage to reflect on your own complicity and begin to understand that being conservative means "to conserve," not "all for me, and screw the rest of you." Let's not even define what a "compassionate conservative" is supposed to be. We've just had a dose of that magic potion and it's lethal. It's just plain old vanilla compassion that's helping the victims of this Administration's decision to allocate funds to a vanity war—rather than shoring up the levee. That kind of hands-on compassion springs from our humanity and not exclusively from cash-heavy tax-exempt faith-based corporations and it works just fine as long as we remember we're all in this together as planetarians, not property owners.

To Liberals and Democrats I say: wear your affiliation as a badge of honor and never again be intimidated by your own Government into having to hide it as if it were a bad skin disease.
Those of us who oppose the terrorist-breeding tendencies of the GOP and its fear-mongering front-men, have long felt swept under a large rug by the likes of John Ashcroft, to experience the plight of other "losers" like limousine lesbians, lipstick liberals, activist environmentalists, and annoying judges, and whatever snide nickname could be thrown the way of 50% of America's families who vote Democrat in a disgustingly infantile game of mud-slinging. Well, there's plenty of dirt now, the kind that hits the fan, and now it's on all of us, white, black, child, or elderly, and emperor George Bush is wearing a see-through Cat In The Hat suit. Caveat emptor: he will soon begin cleaning up the mess in a way remarkably similar to the way Dr. Seuss portrayed it. Bush's first post-hurricane initiative? Proclaiming September 16's flooding—hopefully his Waterloo—a day of national prayer and remembrance. Prayer, by decree? Oh yeah, prayer worked wonders to keep the levees intact! What's next? Bush putting Homeland Security in God's hands?
Poor people of America. They have lost their activist-judges' selected President. In its place they got a self-appointed Pope, a modern-day Bonaparte!

So, now that the blinders are peeling off, it's clear that suddenly—and unexpectedly—the much vilified Liberals and Democrats have won, long after the last fraudulent and rigged election. Just by keeping a cool head. Some not-so-cool heads will soon roll. Sure. Sadly, it's not a time to celebrate, but to look forward. Except perhaps for that old initiative to have people register to vote at the pump, America's mighty shrine, at which we kneel and pray, and for whose glory we send our sons and daughters to die...

AMERICA, LET'S PRAY NEXT TIME YOU VOTE WITH A CLEAR MIND!

©2005 Rudolf Helder

Kama'aina...

2007-04-23T22:34:00.000-07:00

A Hawaiian word that means native-born; host; native plant; child of the land...

The word “kama’aina” may mean what it says in the Hawaiian dictionary, but today’s reality is that a local driver’s license is enough proof to get you the kama’aina rate at hotels, car-rental services and many other places. So, if I am kama’aina there, how come I’m not kama’aina in the eyes of local people? Except maybe when one gets to know me and declares at one point, “Eh brah, you okay, you know. You kama’aina!” It’s hardly a moment to schlep the dictionary into the brotherly conversation and look up the true meaning. So, kama’aina may more than anything mean a state of mind, a sense of belonging and acceptance of Hawaii and its people, and to that notion I subscribe wholeheartedly. As a transplant from another place—northern Europe in my case—it’s nice to feel you have become part of your new land of choice. Or rather, island in the case of Hawaii.
For me that moment came when I left Hawaii after many years of domicile because I was hired as an art director for a Dallas paper. Not a moment too soon. The price of the paper my bank statement was printed on had approached the combined worth of the checking and savings accounts listed on it.
Hawaii was going through an economic downturn and the Mainland had become a beckoning refuge with jobs available, affordable rents, and living expenses way below Hawaii’s.
So I exchanged the Hawaiian winter for the Texas winter. Bad as that was, the difference was so extreme, anyone would have accepted me lamenting my new climate. However, when the summer came around it proved even more difficult to accept my new home state. Especially, when the job evaporated when a new editor was hired who insisted on bringing in her own art director.
Once jobless, things quickly took a turn not dissimilar from the situation I had faced in Hawaii and one day I found myself staring at the flat Texas landscape washing in colorless light by a blaring sun perched on a silvery cloud. Was this a landscape I wanted to stare at in the future?
I wanted to be back home—not in Europe, but in Hawaii. But how? Soon I would not even have money to buy food. For several months I lived hand to mouth on a few meager freelance jobs that came my way. I felt displaced and for the first time since arriving in the United States I felt like a decidedly non-resident alien.

Every evening the same Mexican came knocking on my door, selling fresh hot tamales from a cooler. Challenged by my lack of finances I tried to make the best of the situation, conveniently deciding it was a good time to shed some weight—by way of starvation. It wasn’t easy, though. All day long I smelled home cooking, pumped out of surrounding apartments by slaving air conditioners. At night barbecue parties spilled out of the front doors to underneath the corrugated metal roofs of still sweltering parking stalls. From my balcony I watched Mexican and African-American neighbors wave their chicken wings at me. Or was I already hallucinating? I had lost eleven pounds. I began to regret throwing out pants that had become too tight. Finally overpowered by hunger I’d drive up to the Taco Bueno window and order the Taco Platter: guacamole, risotto, shredded lettuce, sour cream, refried beans, and two chicken tacos—everything in minuscule quantities, yet the most wholesome variety $3.89 could buy.
Then came the day I had just enough money to leave.

As the DC-10 began its descent, I leaned closer to the window. It had been a while since I had seen land so green and luscious. Gliding past the coast, the miniature pop-up world glistening in the noontime sun, a kid in the next row over recognized the landmarks and began calling them out excitedly: “Diamond Head! Ala Moana! Aloha Tower! Pearl Harbor! Honolulu Airport!”
I quietly shared his excitement, absorbing the progressively more detailed scenery of strewn litter turning into neighborhoods, of beetles turning into cars. My lingering agony about the future began to ease, and hope that perhaps this time around everything would be less cataclysmic began to fill me.

With the trade wind blowing through my shirt, I watched Honolulu slide by, sitting next to my chattering pick up party in his vintage ‘58 Chevy BelAir. Honolulu never looked better. Except maybe the first time I arrived. It was beyond me how I could no longer appreciate the pastel colored storefronts; the waving palm trees; and the smell of big white Gardenias. I had come home and it was good.
My friend had grayed much since I'd last seen him. Nine months now seemed like years.
“Nice to have you back,” he had grinned. “No idea how you could survive in that fucking Texas. Not after living here!”
“I guess you have to leave Hawaii to realize it’s paradise after all,” I answered with a smile.
"Like a marriage," he mumbled.
We swung into downtown where office buildings just spewed hordes of secretaries.
“Pretty Asian girls everywhere,” remarked my friend, following my gaze. “Have you missed them?”
Then, with a drum roll on the steering wheel he bypassed my answer.

On Kaimana Beach people watching comes naturally. Twenty feet to my left a man with a body like a gym bag full of dumbbells rigidly installs himself on a towel. In front of me, silhouetted by the low sun, a curvaceous Asian girl in yellow bikini emerges from the sea, carrying an orange air mattress whose reflection sets her skin afire. As she rinses her toy in the shower little rainbows dance around her like elves revealing themselves to whoever believes in them. Near the lifeguard tower stands Patrick, E.R. nurse and sunset surfer who only wears shorts sewn by his mom in Miami. Behind him maneuver distant sail boats and dinner cruise ships, positioning themselves for another perfect sunset. I close my eyes and lean back on my towel, inhaling the mouth-watering scent of keawe wood firing up the barbecues of families gathering on the grass behind the beach. Someone’s soothing flute playing completes the allegory of my senses.
There’s no place like home for a kama’aina.

©2004 Rudolf Helder

The Meaning Of Aloha And Kokua...

2007-04-23T22:33:00.001-07:00

Kokua is a Hawaiian word, that translates as "extending loving, sacrificial help to others for their benefit, not for personal gain..." Hawaii indeed has something to teach the world, other than the Hula. If you remember, Hawaiians embraced visitors from the outside world with a smile, flower leis, and their word for 'welcome' and 'love,' "Aloha."
And what did Americans do when they were thusly invited as a guest into their beautiful islands?
American businessmen, with the help of a garrison of US Marines overthrew Hawaii's queen by arresting and imprisoning her and claimed Hawaii for America... Hawaiians will never forget that.
Yet, they smile, drape a flower lei over your shoulders, and say softly, "Aloha."

The world is a global economy and America has long dominated it with little regard for the wellbeing of people abroad, often supporting dictatorial regimes that brought harm to its own citizens, including those of Saddam Hussein in Iraq, of Marcos in the Philippines, Pinochet in Chile, Batista in Cuba, and many more. In Hawaii, it set up a new government and abandoned the Hawaiian monarchie, not to liberate the Hawaiian people, but to control the strategically situated island group and carve up its resources so that greedy businessmen could build legacies that to this day bear their names (and shame as plunderers of 'paradise'). The Office of Hawaiian Affairs has a long and tainted past, with few Hawaiians having benefitted from its programs. A once proud nation reduced to entertainers and workers at Waikiki hotels...
You may not agree with my sketch of American-Hawaiian history, but it does illustrate a policy of greed, military might, and mingling in the affairs of independent nations. Any parallels with the present are, of course, purely coincidental, but one may deduct that "freedom," when administered by US Marines, may be harmful to your wellbeing.

As responsible global citizens we ought to extend 'kokua' to the global community and people in less industrialized communities or countries striving to establish a valid economic existence—often engaged in agriculture and the production of handmade products. The politics of the past have not quite resulted in creating 'friends for life' overseas, and American corporations have further eroded goodwill with predatory practices. Still, as American businesses we should be encouraged to design and manufacture either locally or abroad, without bringing harm to the American worker—a current theme of 'Buy America' protectionists that are nationalistic in sentiment.
If anything, small businesses are able to bring products to market at a fair price that otherwise never would have been produced in the United States, including Hawaii. So, that 'Hawaiian' puka shell necklace you bought in Haleiwa on Oahu's North Shore may have been manufactured in the Philippines. Does it really matter?

Let's not become myopic at a time when the internet is empowering communities around the world and enabling people to trade with one another products and ideas in a peaceful manner. That the large multinational corporations (who themselves are exporting and outsourcing tens of thousands of American jobs) may not like our new trade model is just too bad. Have you been laid off or fired by one of them already? Ebay may be your next source of income. Perhaps if large corporations had behaved as responsible world citizens (think of Dow subsidiary Union Carbide and the environmental disaster in Bhopal, India, that has yet to be cleaned up) people abroad would view American corporations differently. It may be up to us, as consumers, employees, and entrepeneurs to engage in responsible trade that brings pride and approval to all involved, and makes the end-user feel good about their choice. A little Kokua goes a long way. Then, when we are respected as friends we can share our values and perhaps—and never at the point of a gun—spread our personal interpretation of 'Aloha.'

Sure, there will always be large companies trying to dominate one another in the global marketplace, and powerful businessmen will keep finding ways to secure themselves of profit with the aid of politicians and at the cost of shattered lives at home and abroad. It's up to each of us to counterbalance that and engage with one another by spreading Aloha and Kokua. Let every decision be one of vision. A long-lasting vision for long-lasting peace. This we understand better when someone smiles, drapes a flower lei over your shoulders, and says, "Aloha."

©2004 Rudolf Helder

Hawaii, The Beautiful Lie...

2007-04-23T22:30:00.000-07:00

Hawaii... All kinds of thoughts come to mind when one hears that name, with few of them probably having anything to do with the 'real' Hawaii. After all, Hawaii is a state of mind, not just a state within the United States.
Hawaii is the eternal tranquilizer, putting people in a natural state of bliss, just by hearing its name.
Hawaii is where you're going to die—of happiness!

True, Florida may be a better known destination for those seeking a place with a mild climate to last out one's life.
Hawaii's not (yet) marketing itself as the final resting place for US Mainland's seniors.
So, let's look at Hawaii as a place not to visit, and certainly not as a place to come to to die, but as a place for those who already live here and for whom the dream that Hawaii is, or was, or could be is more fact-based.

After all, at the rate things are going, Hawaii may lose its dream aspect in the future, due to inadequate planning, inability to protect its environment, pandering to big business and 'developers,' and greed by the pimps who have turned this group of lush islands into the flophouse of the North Pacific.
Yes, indeed, one enduring myth is that Hawaii lies in the South Pacific. "Come for a visit to the warm North Pacific," probably didn't cut it with the advertising agencies and travel services trying to sell Hawaii.
So then, let's face it: Hawaii is a lie.

Don't get me wrong. Hawaii still is beautiful. I love these islands. Yet, when you live here you also begin to see things that slowly fill you with sadness. Things the ocean cannot wash out of your consciousness anymore, after a while. Look around, and what do you see? The steamroller of mislabeled urban renewal, coagulating the unique with the mundane, in its wake another office tower with a built-in Wendy’s. Project that against a backdrop of waving palm trees and mountain ridges as sharp as torn paper. Paradise is being paved over. And fast. Never mind. I am not complaining, just noticing. We’re alive and don’t need central heating. Not here, at ninety degrees Fahrenheit in winter.

The fertile red soil of the plains, where once sugarcane and pineapples waxed, colors a landscape rapidly being developed for urban housing. Trash is beginning to litter the roads, as do roadside signs from businesses that claim to have 'adopted' a stretch of roadway. Everything's for sale. Oahu is scrambling for space, and commuter communities are springing up everywhere as more visitors stay for good. Hawaii has no quota restrictions. Not for the influx of people. Not for the influx of cars. Not for the rate of development. It would be anti-American, but there aren’t jobs for everybody, and the roads are jammed. Affordable homes start at a quarter of a million dollars. Paradise will soon desist. Hawaii is an organism that needs visionaries, or its ecosystem will collapse. It may already be too late. Meanwhile, the politicians are getting rich. The developers are getting fat. The people are going bankrupt. The little children are neglected. The women are beaten. The prices go up. The quality of life goes down. Crime wins every time. I am not complaining, just contemplating as the sun shines.
And the breeze whispers.
Hawaii, the beautiful lie...

©2004 Rudolf Helder