READ THIS; YOU WILL WEEP

You may not like the N.Y. Times. I'm certainly not enamored of them. However, my take is they were far too willing to follow the lead of this group of criminals and thugs who occupy the White House currently. I think "the" paper acted as a shameless apologist for numerous oversights, mis-statement, lies, and negligent acts - far too many to find it within myself to easily forgive and forget.

Nevertheless, there is a book review appearing on their website I think everyone should read, especially if you never read the book. The book in question is titled "Fiasco", by Thomas E. Ricks, senior Pentagon correspondent for the Washington Post, and the review itself is plenty damning of the Bush administration and virtually every (wrong) move they made from the runup to the blundered execution of the war in Iraq.

Here's a quote from the review, which can be located here:

"Mr. Ricks’s narrative is based on hundreds of interviews and more than 37,000 pages of documents, and many of the book’s most scorching assessments of the White House and Pentagon’s conduct of the war come from members of the uniformed military and official military reports.

"An after-action review from the Third Infantry Division underscores the Pentagon’s paucity of postwar planning, stating that “there was no guidance for restoring order in Baghdad, creating an interim government, hiring government and essential services employees, and ensuring that the judicial system was operational.” And an end-of-tour report by a colonel assigned to the Coalition Provisional Authority memorably summarized his office’s work as “pasting feathers together, hoping for a duck.”

"Mr. Ricks writes in these pages as both a reporter and an analyst, and many of his findings amplify observations made by other journalists and former insiders in earlier books: namely that the Bush White House routinely ignored the advice of experts (be they military, diplomatic or Middle East experts); that Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld’s determination to conduct the war with a light, fast force had crippling consequences for the American military’s ability to restore law and order in post-invasion Iraq; and that infighting between the State and Defense Departments, between civilians at the Pentagon and the uniformed military, and between the military and the Coalition Provisional Authority severely hampered the making and execution of United States policy."

THANK YOU - I THINK

So what is it with Thank You cards? When did they become de rigeur . . . a fixture of every child's birthday and gift-giving Winter solstice celebration?

My daughter celebrated her 5th birthday recently and we had a party for over twenty children and adults. We provided entertainment for the children, lots of food and drink for everbody, really nice loot bags for the kids, a large cake, and a pinata filled with lots of candy. My wife spent around a week's worth of her spare time researching and purchasing everything necessary to make the kids feel special. This included purchasing inexpensive cowboy/cowgirl hats and bandanas, as the party was held at a nearby farm where the kids could feed animals and enjoy some really fun and clever rides. I spent a good 10 - 15 hours running around and picking up things and making arrangements. We really wanted everyone to have a good time.

Now comes the aftermath. My wife is not the best at sending out Thank You cards, and I have virtually no experience doing it at all. I mean, isn't it against the law for men to do this kind of thing - no matter how sensitive they are? So . . . here it is, a couple of weeks later and the cards she took the time to purchase are still sitting on the table . . . in their original box. They're taunting me. Like chocolate in a candy dish, I sometimes hear them calling out my name.

Isn't a sincere "Thank You" at the party's end enough for everybody? I don't know; maybe she feels better about not doing it than I do, but why do I have this sinking feeling we must carry some sort of guilt because we have yet to send a hand-written, personalized note written by us as though it was our child channeling Emily Post or Martha Stewart?

Here's an example of a Thank You we received the day after a 5-year-old's birthday party:

Thank for coming to my birthday party. I was really happy you could be there. The Spiderman backpack will be really useful next year in Kindergarten to carry my laptop as I'm learning how to post covered calls without the help of my broker.

Now how are we going to follow that?

PISS OFF

I was born and raised a Jew in a Christian country. My best friends and many of my cousins (due to a "mixed" marriage) were Catholic. I spent most of my formative years immersed in the ideology and dogma of two of the west's "great" religions.

I have since looked carefully at Buddhism, Taoism, Shintoism, Hinduism, Islam, and have a great deal of respect for Zen. I am, however, essentially an atheist. I sometimes refer to myself as a Quantum Gestalt Humanist. I can no more prove the non-existence of (one or more) God(s) than you can prove the existence of any God(s).

But I have faith. I have faith that my life has purpose, as does yours. I have faith that the universe is unfolding as it will, regardless of what you or I believe in. I have faith that the Sun will rise tomorrow and that two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen will make a molecule of water.

I have faith that the "fact" of evolution is far more mysterious and wonderful than any story told by the authors of the Bible, and that this world is absolutely amazing and beautiful and wonderful.

I'm also quite convinced that the religious right would gleefully hang me by my ankles merely because I don't share their "beliefs", and that is something I will not tolerate. Frankly, I don't care what you "believe" in, or what your faith says is the way the world works. It's really none of my business. But the moment you start trying to tell me how I have to believe, how I have to live my life, and that I am wrong or evil or bad because I don't agree with you, is the moment you and I go our separate ways.

Believe what you want, you Christian zealots and fundamentalists, but DON'T TREAD ON ME.

WHAT THE FLOCK?

Jesus H. Christ on a fucking stick. Damn it, I'm pissed. All these fucking bloggers out there seem to have endless hours to research and write. Me, I've got a full-time job figuring out how to hurl humans into space. It just pisses me off. I want to spend my time studying the nuances and quirks of all the sociopaths and megalomaniacs who reside and/or work within the beltway, but the need to actually make a living is getting in my way!

I really want to dissect the people who purport to represent us. I don't believe more than a very small minority have any understanding of what our lives are like, let alone possess the kind of empathy and compassion it takes to represent us adequately. This goes for most Democrats, as well as virtually all Republicans.

Now I don't mean to be unfair, and God (or whoever's in charge of these things) only knows there's plenty enough greed, avarice, and sloth to go around, but the Republicans are in charge of everything at present (Executive, Legislative, and - arguably - Judicial branches) and things have never quite been as incredibly fucked up as they (crazy me) seem to be.

I really don't know for sure that it would be any different had the election not been stolen from Al Gore (yes. I know you think this is sour grapes. I recommend Vincent Bugliosi's book "The Betrayal of America: How the Supreme Court Undermined the Constitution and Chose our President") or from John Kerry for that matter. They all seem to bow to the same master - the almighty dollar.

Yet, is it so crazy of me to opine that this administration, and the zealous sycophants who enable it, have pretty much refined narrow-minded hypocrisy into a purified essential oil (forgive me) oozing self-deluded righteousness? I have a hard time convincing myself I'm not seeing what is really happening. How about you?

Anyway, I have neither the time nor the energy (at this point) to engage in the level of research and study I believe this effort really requires but, much like the current administration, this isn't going to keep me from speaking my mind. It may be an unwarranted, self-administered pat on my own back, but I kind of think I have a better grasp on what's actually happening in our country, and in the world, than this administration has. At the very least, I'm not making money off of my decisions. How many ways can you say "conflict of interest"?

BACK FEINGOLD

I've been awfully busy lately. The transition from the company who sold us to the company who bought us is almost complete. At least, the IT transition; we're breaking the electronic umbilical cord this weekend, and it's been a struggle to deal with all the issues it's created.

Since I haven't really had the time to post anything (only partly true; I've been having trouble deciding on how far to take this particular blog in the direction I'm contemplating - more about that later), I thought I would just make sure the two or three people who happen to come here have a chance to keep up with what I think is important in our national discourse.

Jane Hamsher wrote a little piece on Firedog Lake about Russ Feingold's appearance on "The Daily Show". You can read it here. You can see a video clip of the show at Crooks and Liars - here. I really like Jane's writing, I can almost smell the blood dripping off her canines. She's deliciously vicious. Here's a sample of just how nasty she can be.

I am becoming more and more enamored of this guy, precisely because he is speaking truth to power and because he's not pandering. It's high time we had some politicans with conviction, who will stand up and say what needs to be said without calculating how it will affect their next election cycle.

CALLING ALL CARS

I used to have this dream, even as a child too young to drive. In this dream I could talk to people in their cars through their radios . . . even if the radio wasn't on. This way I could tell them what I thought of them and there was nothing they could do about it.

I could use it today on all kinds of assholes and jerks. I want to know why the Department of Motor Vehicles (or whatever the fuck they call it in your State) doesn't test for sociopaths before giving out licenses. Would that be so hard?

Now that I think about it, it would probably shut down the economy and every aspect of our so-called civilized society. Think of all the soccer moms, in their Hummers, Armadas, Expeditions, and fucking Mars Rovers who would have to walk their kids to wherever it is they're taking them to in those giant, oversize, over-hyped, gas-guzzling boats masquerading as cars. And don't even talk to me about all the folks on the road who are obviously far more important than the rest of us. You know the ones - can't wait their turn; don't merge safely and courteously. The dickheads, frequently driving sports cars, or luxury cars - take your pick.

One of the things I'd like to ask them, in addition to "why on Earth, when there was nobody behind me, did you wait until I was two car lengths away before pulling into my lane?" (see my earlier post - here - for more), is "Did you pay extra for those fucking turn signals you don't seem to be able to understand how to use?"

Why is it people will approach an intersection where you are patiently waiting for traffic to clear, fully conscious they are going to turn and you needn't worry about them (at least not if they fucking signalled their intentions with those turn signal thingies they paid for but don't use) and not even notice you are there?

And the inverse is true as well. Here you are approaching an intersection where lots of people do turn, but you're going straight. These clowns are so used to people not signalling that they pre-empt you and just pull out in front of you. Then they either look surprised, or actually put out, that you didn't do what they believed you should have done.

Like I said, this world is filled to the brim with assholes. I want my radio transmitter. Maybe I should talk to my friends at JPL.

I LOVE YOU. YOU LOVE ME!

Damn! I'm trying to do at least one of three things today: Engage in some spirited email conversation with my High School graduation class group site; write something - anything - on my blog site, and/or; get some work done. I've got a monthly newsletter due that was set back by my trip to Houston and a few other things.

But how the hell can I even think about being curmudgeonly (for accomplishing number two, at least) when I'm sitting here listening to Barney, Thomas the damn tank engine, Angelina Ballerina, Kipper the Dog, Sagwa, and Dragon Tales; not to mention Bella Ballerina, the ballet DVD from Australia my daughter might be learning some ballet from.

Not only that, I just got gifted with a cake . . . a cake that suspiciously resembles a blue barrell filled with little, red plastic monkeys with long, curved arms used to hang on to each other; Bella is singing about "eating your fruits and vegetables every day". Is this the right atmosphere for a god damned cranky curmudgeon? I'm not convinced.

And I really wanted to complain about something. God damn it!

SHIT FAHR - AHM GITTIN' HIRE

I was reminded there's a whole lot of Cowboy poetry out there nowadays. A quick Google shows lots of links. Here's the first one returned http://www.cowboypoetry.com/. Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to publish a few Cowboy Haiku. I don't have titles for them; they're fresh off the ol' keyboard. Here ya go, pard. Hope ya lahk 'em.

This cowboy wears spurs
They will jingle all the night
If he gets lucky

My hat does not fit
Perhaps it is because
My head is swollen

Blood on the saddle
Could it mean I really have
Hemorrhoids to boot?

I DON'T THINK I'M CRANKY ENOUGH

I've re-read many of my posts and it seems to me I'm just not cranky enough. Listen. I'm not out in the world every day looking for insults and transgressions against me. I'm just not that offended by all the crap that goes on around my little corner of the world.

Nevertheless, there's plenty out there to be cranky about; it's just not of a personal nature. Oh no. It's far more important than that. Personal insults are . . . well . . . just not that important. I mean you can turn the other cheek, or slap the shit out of someone. Either way, it's between you and him/her and, after all is said and done . . . all is said and done. Next story. Move on.

What's out there to be really cranky about is the lies, distortions, thefts, and homicides being committed in our name on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Our government is out of control and seems to be getting worse every day. Our economy is highly dependent on the suffering of others throughout the world, as it has been at least my entire life. Such is the nature of Imperialism; the thing we're truly world-class at.

So, while I plan on remaining cranky about the "little" things, I'm going to start being a little more verbal about the transgressions I see in government, religion, and all manner of public life. I'm going to spend a little more time putting out my view of the cowards, criminals, and charlatans who are so prominently guiding this country down the road to ruin as fast as their bank accounts can take them.

I GUESS I KNOW MY PLACE

On the way back home we flew out of George Bush Intercontinental Airport. I don’t know why they call it that. What the fuck’s wrong with International? Why intercontinental? Hell, more planes flying in and out of New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago actually fly between continents than they do from George Bush. Why don’t they, in the spirit of the bombastic asshat the airport is named after call it the “Intergalactic” airport or, even better, honor his dumbfuck son and call it the “Intergalactical” airport? That would fit.

So, when I fly on business, which isn’t all that often, I have to fly coach. My company wouldn’t even spring for business class, let alone first class. If I flew a lot, perhaps I would join a frequent flyer club and when I accumulated enough miles I could upgrade once in a while. Anyway, after sitting down in my seat, and just prior to the plane (a Boeing 737) being pushed back from the terminal, the purser comes on the intercom and notifies us that, due to “safety and security reasons”, those of us from rows four through 19 are confined to use of the two bathrooms at the tail of the plane. The front one, due to “safety and security reasons” is limited to the people in that other class of service, ahem, First Class.

I can understand them wanting to keep the unwashed masses away from our betters, but do they have to bullshit us about it? I mean . . . give me a break. Safety and security? If I’m going to hijack a plane, I think I’m going to get me a first class seat. It’s much closer to the cockpit and folks up there are generally viewed with less suspicion than the rabble in the back.

The way they’re doing it, that’s one bathroom (up front) for approximately 8 people in the royalty section, and another two (at the tail) for the remaining 90 in the human cargo section. That makes the first class folks about five times better than the rest of us, yeah?

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM

While in Houston, I stayed at the NASA Clear Lake Hilton. I checked in around 6:00 local time and, in accordance with my company’s policy, I made an allowed phone call to home to assure my family I had arrived safely. I usually don’t bother wearing a watch, as I always have my cell phone with me and it provides me with the most accurate time available. In fact, it even picks up the local time so I don’t have to change it when I travel and, in this case, that is exactly what I did.

My phone told me it was around 6:30. However, I had just forgotten that I was in the Central time zone and it was only 4:30 at home. There was no way my wife was at home and, sure enough, I got our answering machine. I left a very brief message noting my safe arrival and hung up. I couldn’t have been on the phone longer than 45 – 50 seconds.

When I awoke on Friday morning, the day of my departure, as is customary in most hotels nowadays my closing statement for hotel charges had been slipped under my door sometime during the night. I glanced at it and almost fell over. That phone call of less than a minute had been billed to my room for almost $13.00.

I couldn’t believe it. The call I had made later, when someone was actually home and we talked for a while cost almost $30.00. I was dumbfounded at first. I went downstairs for breakfast and, after having some time to think about it, went back upstairs and called to notify the front desk I was checking out. They asked me if everything had been OK and said it had, with the exception of those phone calls. As a result of the complaint, they took the first charge off my bill. I’m still upset about the other charge being so much, but I’m at a bit of a loss for what to do.

The way I’m thinking about it now is that, if my company reimburses me for the call, I probably will just let it go, as it will not be worth the time, effort, and aggravation to do anything about it. However, if they won’t pay for it, or if they pay for only a small portion, I’m going to complain and suggest they push the hotel to put warning stickers on the phones, “WARNING! Use of this phone may be dangerous to your wallet” or something like that.

CAN COOKIES ALTER SPACE & TIME?

It’s been said that flying is hours and hours of crushing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. I’ve experienced that before, but mostly it’s boredom for me. It’s very difficult to sit still for long periods of time, with nothing to do but watch a movie, read a book, sleep, or eat – all done within the confines of a narrow seat with little to no legroom.

Such was my trip to Houston last Wednesday. The first leg was uneventful, except for the fact that it was unnecessary. I started at Bob Hope Airport, which is what they call the Hollywood-Burbank airport (international airport designation BUR). When I was a kid it was called Lockheed Airport, which may give you an idea of just how old I am.

I like flying out of there. It’s fairly small, which means it just can’t get too crowded and you never have to walk too far. It’s also reasonably close to my home, which means I can get there without too much traffic hassle. But I really didn’t need to leave from there, especially to fly first to San Francisco.

This all happened because I was the unknowing victim of a desire by one of my colleagues to fly United Airlines. He has traveled a great deal and has frequent flyer miles, which he uses to get upgrades to better seating; either business or first class.

Unfortunately, the Office Admin who made my reservations merely copied his entire itinerary and changed the name. So, unbeknownst to me, I was placed on a flight to San Francisco, on my way to Houston, Texas, all because my colleague wanted a little more leg room for a three and half hour flight. I would have sat in coach to save myself the extra two and half hours (or more) it took to fly up north and wait for a connecting flight.

One thing I noticed on the plane. United Airlines apparently no longer serves meals on their flights; they offer snacks and “boxes” for you to purchase. I ponied up my $5.00 and bought a box of salami slices, cheese spread and crackers, potato chips, applesauce, and two Partridge Farm Milano cookies (my favorite cookies of all time).

As I prepared to dig in to these treats I had just procured, I realized the box was shrink-wrapped, like a god damned CD. Now, think of it. They won’t let you take a nail clipper on a flight, but they sell you a box of food wrapped so tight you practically need a knife just to get to the perforated strip to open the box. I finally got it open after much effort. What the hell do people with arthritis do?

MY PRE-TRIP THIRST

MY PRE-TRIP THIRST

This'll be a short one. I'm getting ready to attend a NASA Knowledge Management conference in Houston, where I'll be presenting on the history of, and our experience with, an Expert/Expertise location system and knowledgebase that's been used by my company for almost three and half years.

I've been packing (something I'm pretty good at, but still tend to put off 'til the last moment) and am now sitting on the potty (with the lid closed), playing lifeguard, while my four-year-old daughter bathes. Soon I'll have to wash her hair for her and put in the detangler before I try to comb out her hair without having her scream in pain. At this stage of my life, I think I'd rather have a digital rectal exam. At least it would be over in a matter of seconds and my back wouldn't have a chance to seize up on me.

Anyway, before I go I was wondering. With all the money I pay out in taxes and, given that those funds pay for things like FEMA (lest we forget, that stands for FEDERAL Emergency Management Agency), why the hell am I worried I need at least a month's supply of water and food to make sure my family can survive a really destructive earthquake?

Do you have any idea how much water a family of four needs to make it a mere 28 days? At the bare minimum of three liters per day, that's a total of 336 liters. In those big, plastic bottles grocery stores sell, that's 36 of them. At no less than $2/bottle (which is an infrequent bargain), that's . . . well, you figure it out. I haven't included food.

Well, I can afford it. What about my neighbors? People who live within 5 miles of me? Can everyone afford it? I doubt it. What will the folks who can't afford it, or who really didn't see or understand the possibilities, be doing to survive if OUR government, to which we pay tribute in the form of taxes, can't be counted on to provide rapid assistance? And you can't be serious if you think I'm being cynical; not after Katrina. Not with this vindictive, bumbling bunch now controlling the country's purse strings.

I just wanted to get that off my chest. I'll have more to say about what I think I have the right to "expect" (i.e. feel "entitled" to) from my government later, but I'm going to leave it alone for now. I hope to post at least once from my hotel in Houston.

LESS THAN PREFECT

Why do people, perfectly rational in other ways, defend the indefensible? Why do they continue along a path that is demonstrably wrong and easily abandoned? I'm not talking about the barbarous torture being carried out in our name, with our money, by our government. I'm talking about the indefensible butchering of the English language by educated, enlightened people.

I'm talking about people who are scientists, who make their living off understanding and precisely defining physical properties of phenomena in order to reshape the world and our relationship to it. People who demand, and thrive off of, minutiae - accurate minutiae.

I heard three words in a meeting the other day that just drove me crazy. These three words were:

• Libary (for library)
• Ec Cetera (for et cetera), and
• Hierachial (for Hierarchical)

Hearing these words butchered gives me the chills, but I learned a long time ago not to question an Engineer's pronunciation of any word, lest one wishes to be the recipient of a surprised, somewhat pained expression followed by a derisive comment on one's propensity for detail. Something like "Well. You knew what I meant. What are you? A Lawyer?".

Well. Maybe. Maybe I knew what you meant and maybe I am a Lawyer. The latter part of the question is of no real consequence, and can be safely ignored as the silly attack it is, but the former isn't necessarily all that clear. I knew what you meant? Could I be certain?

One of the simpler equations in physics is f = ma (force = mass x acceleration). Would an Engineer complain if I expressed it as f = na in a paper or in an analysis of a design or test results? Would it be OK if I said "Well, it's only off by one letter and, after all, you know what I meant" (hee hee)?

I suppose, to be fair, there is the tongue twist factor to take into consideration. After all, library, et cetera, and hierarchical take a bit of concentration and practice to say properly. But here's the real issue. Language is used to - now get this - communicate. Good, accurate, complete communication requires precision. It ain't horse shoes or hand grenades.

So here's what I have to say to those sloppy speakers who complain about merely being asked to correct their butchered pronunciations and complain they're close enough to being "there".

They're ain't no there their. You're turn to figure out where your going.

TWIST AND SHOUT

"Hello! My name's {enter favorite name here} and I'll be your server tonight. May I get you something to drink?"

How many meals start off with these two innocuous lines? For me they are usually the prelude to the antithesis of what getting that drink is supposed to be, a short, appetite-stimulating moment of anticipatory relaxation prior to enjoying a calm, stress-free meal. I don't know about you, but my week is normally far too hectic for most meals to be truly relaxing. I do the bulk of the cooking in our house, and I have no use (for the most part) for things like shake-and-bake. That means there's prep work prior to, and cleaning during and after, the actual act of eating. Sometimes I eat half my meal while I'm cooking it.

I am also a Scotch drinker; have been for a long time. Scotch is the only type of alcohol with which I can attain the proverbial "three sheets to the wind", yet awaken the next day with no hangover. I have always attributed this to the fact that Scotch is usually (in my case always) imbibed either "neat" (all by its little lonesome) or with water in one form (on-the-rocks) or another (with, what else, water). There is nothing froo-froo about drinking Scotch. Nevertheless, while not necessary, adding a twist (for those of you who do not drink, a twist is a sliver of lemon peel, the twisting of which releases a spritz of essential oils; it is not a wedge of lemon or lime from which the juice gets squeezed into a drink) adds just the right amount of subtle citrus flavoring which, to my palate, goes well with the smoky earthiness of Scotch.

So, here's the problem. Why is it April, or Jonathon, or Heather, or William can never, ever remember I asked for that little twist of lemon? Why am I always put in the position of accusing my server of not being able to do their job as well as I think I have the right to anticipate? Mind you, I'm a good tipper and I'm not really all that demanding. I grew up in and around the food business and have spent a fair amount of time putting up with demanding patrons at eating establishments. I know how difficult it can be and I appreciate someone who does it well. I frequently tip 20% of the total (including drinks and sales tax), even if they forget my twist.

But . . . why can't servers remember this one simple, little thing? Why? Why must I frequently forego it just because it's not really, really that important? Although I'm not usually at a loss for why I think things happen, I don't have a good answer for this one. I'm stumped. I'm coming to accept it as a universal law, like - Hubble's Constant. It's a corollary to another law I've noticed in restaurants; servers will never notice, despite ample opportunity to do so, that I'm left-handed and will invariably place a new drink on my right side. But that's another story.

P.S. - I realize this isn't really that terrible a rant and probably not worthy of a true (and cranky) curmudgeon, but I have too much respect for working people, especially those at the bottom of the heap, to ever get too pissed at them. Call me a softie, but there's plenty enough crap out there to get worked up about. This ain't one of 'em.

CLOSET CHRISTIANS

"But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you."

Matthew 6:6

(New International Version)

I don't believe in God. I really don't care if others agree with me. I only care that they respect the relationship I have with the Universe, whether it's through a God, a group of Gods, or woven between the interstices of the space-time continuum contemplated by quantum physics. I believe that having convictions, and being secure in those convictions, means not needing to be validated by the acceptance of others.

I have difficulty calling myself an Atheist, only because I can't prove the non-existence, anymore than anyone can prove the existence, of God. However, I don't like referring to myself as an Agnostic, mostly because it sounds rather smarmy to me; like I'm not sure of what I believe. Mostly, I like to say I'm a Quantum Gestalt Humanist. You figure out what it means. I need to get to my rant.

How many times during the day, while driving to and from work, grocery shopping, dropping the kid(s) off at daycare or school, etc. do you see either those little fish (some plain; some with the greek letters for ichthus, or fish) or a window decal depicting a little girl or boy, or both, supplicating themselves in the shadow of a cross? What are these people trying to say? Is it meant to be some sort of secret code, so Christians can recognize each other across the lanes?

If you listen to some Christians whine and complain about how they're persecuted, you'd have to believe this is their secret, vehicular handshake. These people actually think they're persecuted. WTF? The United States of America is what, something like 90% Christian? They permeate every aspect of society and are represented overwhelmingly in all levels of our government. Christmas, the holiday many of them have taken to complaining is being phased out, effectively lasts for well over 10% of the year, the admonition to wait until after Thanksgiving before decorating notwithstanding.

I'll tell you what I think it is. I think it's the very thing Jesus was saying one shouldn't do in the above quote found in Matthew. I think Jesus knew people whose faith was steadfast had no need to brandish it publicly, as though it were a badge of courage or strength. Indeed, I think those people who feel the necessity of advertising their religion are the least faithful of all.

I'm not exactly a religious scholar, but I think it was Paul of Tarsus who made prosyletizing into a competitive sport. I don't think Jesus would have approved. After all, he was Jewish and Judaism teaches that the most important thing one can do is live a "good" life, that is an ethical, righteous life. It is more important than liturgy or dogma and, therefore, it is one's deeds, not one's words by which we are judged. As a Jew, Jesus would not have found it necessary to convert people, or to preach to them. He was a teacher, not a preacher.

I think Paul felt guilty because he had persecuted and killed so many early Christians and, much like Charles Colson or numerous serial killers who, after lives of despicable and heinous acts, find and accept Jesus as their personal savior, he determined to make amends for the damage he had done. I'm not saying it's a bad thing he repented; only that - like so many true believers - he swung that pendulum just as far in the other direction from where it had been and, therefore, avoided any kind of moderation in his pursuits.

In his book "The Wisdom of Insecurity", Alan Watts discusses the difference between faith and belief. He posits that belief is rigid and unyielding, but faith is open and accepting. People who feel the need to wave their so-called religious convictions in our faces are believers. Faith is beyond their comprehension, because having faith requires an openess to things as they are, not as we wish them to be. These people, these cross-wavers - at least the worst of them - are certain they "know" exactly what truth is, and they are not shy in telling us where our faith leads if it isn't in line with theirs.

I really don't care what religion you are. I expect the same from you. Your religion, your belief, your faith are none of my damn business. However, the moment you start pushing your brand of soap as the only way to be clean, as the only way to live one's life, as the only way to what you believe is the ultimate goal of our existence on this planet, then you've made your religion MY business. You open yourself up for criticism and you deserve every bit of scorn and anger dumped on your judgmental hide.

GROCERY SWINE

I think there are numerous ways in which our country's celebration of the individual is unhealthy and counter-productive. One of them is clear to me whenever I go grocery shopping. There are two behaviors of many shoppers who demonstrate this. The first is those lazy jerks who, having either picked something up they no longer wish to purchase, or whose children have grabbed something from the shelf, leave it wherever they are when they change their minds or discover their little darlin's behavior.

Now, if it's a bag of rice or a can of soup, the only damage is it creates extra work for the folks working in the store. I suppose I shouldn't say "only damage" as even the creation of extra work translates into greater cost and, eventually, higher prices. Even worse, though, is the tendency of those who decide they no longer wish to purchase something which needs refrigeration, to leave it next to the potato chips, where they happen to find themselves when their befuddled minds finally comprehend the shallowness of their culinary desires.

Add to that the folks who buy things they don't really want, but wish to "try out", and then return it after they've given it a go, and you've got some large ancillary costs that have to be passed on in order for expected profits to be realized. This "trying out" behavior isn't limited to grocery stores, btw, but we'll stick to that option for now.

There's another thing that truly irks me. I'm not saying I lose any sleep over it. In fact, generally by the time I've left the parking lot I've forgotten about it. That may be why it's taken me years to reach the point where I can remember to say something about it. But it does make my blood boil a little when I see it happening. It's not as egregious, but it's somewhat related to the practice of perfectly healthy people parking in handicapped spots (even if they've managed to con their Doctor into helping them get a handicapped placard).

What I refer to is those who, having transferred their groceries from the shopping cart into their vehicle, now feel it is their right to leave that shopping cart in the parking space next to them. Most of these people are actually thoughtful enough to place the front wheels onto the median strip that divides the parking lot, but some will even leave their carts just sitting next to them, right in the middle of a spot. I suppose this wouldn't matter much in an area which saw little traffic, but in a busy store it can be a bit of a problem.

What bothers me about this is the message, which is "My time is more important than yours. My convenience is more important than yours." I can't figure out how much of this is sheer laziness, outright stupidity, or semi-pathological sociopathy. I'm inclined to think it comes from a culture which is increasingly slanted toward the "me-first, you never" mentality; a belief that life is a zero sum game and you have to grab all you can get or someone else will take it and you'll be left holding the bag.

This is, undoubtedly, a theme I will continue to harp on as I touch on other subjects in my curmudgeonly quest, not to right all wrongs, but merely to anger those who commit these wrongs and - perhaps - spur others to action in calling people to task when they exhibit these piggish qualities.

ROAD HOGS

Here's one of my pet peeves though, truth to tell, I've got a lot of them. I'm no longer the pedal to the metal kind of driver I used to be. Sometimes I get back the urge and take advantage of the fact that the freeway I use to get to and from work generally travels (in the fast lane) at speed in excess of 80 mph. Most of the time, however, I like to hang back in the slow lane and just accept the fact I'll be a minute or two later than if I jammed for the ten miles I need to get to my offramp.

So, here's what really pisses me off. Why is it folks who have been content to drive along behind a truck for the last mile or so, suddenly decide to pull out in front of me, even though there is no one behind me and they have to know they're going to cause me to slow down?

I don't expect them to put together the fact that we're going uphill and I don't exactly have a muscle car, so they're definitely impacting my world. But there's nobody behind me! Why the fuck can't they wait that extra moment for me to pass? This is especially egregious when I'm using my cruise control to conserve a little gas and make my drive even less stressful, because I then have to change lanes (if there's nobody coming up on us), step on the brake, or hold the coast button down. Either way, it's an unnecessary pain in the ass caused by a rude, thoughtless asshole who obviously was the only freaking person on the road.

I find a lot of people are incredibly thoughtless and inconsiderate; frequently rude, selfish, and amazingly unconcerned for the people they share the road (or the planet, for that matter) with. There are no laws against it, of course, though it seems all of our social and religious philosophies decry this kind of behavior. Yet the world is filled with pigs and dickheads. I don't get it. Maybe I never will. I also don't like it and I will never, ever get over it.

I'm going to try and figure out how to better understand why it's so and how to counter it. I hope there are folks out there who can contribute to this effort. Regardless, I want to fight against, and marginalize this kind of behavior, especially when it comes from people who think they are thoughtful and respectful. I'm also going to point it out in every way I see it, whether it's some jerk throwing trash out of his car, or a shopper leaving their cart in the middle of a parking space. More to come.