Um, Hands Down, I guess

Easily, the funniest thing I've read all week. Not the original article, the comments!


Wonkette

Fast Food Funerals

This morning, a friend sent me a warning about flashing lights and Bloods "membership drives" on I-70 this weekend. Luckily, that turned out to be an urban legend.

Sadly, this isn't one. If you're as upset and disgusted as I am about the turn of events, please take a few moments and contact your Congressmen.

These young men and women gave their lives for a cause that was not their own. Let's not make this their final insult just because Dick Cheney is looking to save a few bucks.

Fort Lewis to consolidate memorials for dead
Michael Gilbert The News Tribune

Fort Lewis, which this month has suffered its worst losses of the war, will no longer conduct individual memorial ceremonies for soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Instead, the post will hold one ceremony for all soldiers killed each month, the Fort Lewis acting commanding general, Brig. Gen. William Troy, wrote in a memo to commanders and staff last week.

“As much as we would like to think otherwise, I am afraid that with the number of soldiers we now have in harm’s way, our losses will preclude us from continuing to do individual memorial ceremonies,” Troy wrote in the memo, according to a copy obtained by United for Peace Pierce County and posted on the group’s Web site. A post spokesman confirmed the policy change Tuesday. It will start in June.

There are 10,000 Fort Lewis troops in Iraq, more than at any other time since the March 2003 invasion. The post has reported 16 soldiers killed there so far in May, by far the most in any month of the war. The previous worst month was December 2004, when nine soldiers were killed, including six in the Mosul chow hall bombing. In all overseas deployments since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, 124 Fort Lewis soldiers have died.

In his memo dated May 22, Troy said he asked the post’s senior chaplain, Col. Jack Van Dyken, to work out the details of the new policy.

“I see this as a way of sharing the heavy burdens our spouses and rear detachments bear, while giving our fallen warriors the respect they deserve,” Troy wrote. “It will also give the families of the fallen the opportunity to bond with one another, as they see others who share their grief.”
Other Army posts already consolidate soldier memorials into one or two ceremonies per month.

At Fort Carson, Colo., they are held every other Thursday afternoon in a post chapel, a spokeswoman said.

At Fort Hood, Texas, the 4th Infantry Division has been holding a monthly ceremony since at least 2004. The division has lost more than 130 soldiers in two deployments to Iraq.

“We do schedule them, and unfortunately we do have them every month,” said Sgt. 1st Class Damian Steptore, a division spokesman.

Van Dyken on Tuesday said the change reflects the reality that Fort Lewis, for the next several months at least, will likely be called upon to memorialize soldiers killed in action. Two Stryker brigades of about 4,000 soldiers each will be fighting in Iraq until October, when one of them is scheduled to return from a 15-month tour.

“This is not an intent to streamline the process or in any way detract from honoring the soldiers,” Van Dyken said. “It’s just being cognizant of the fact that when you have this many, the time involved in doing each one individually is just prohibitive.”

Until now Fort Lewis has held memorial ceremonies for those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan on a case-by-case basis, usually one or two soldiers at a time.

Post spokesman Joseph Piek said each ceremony requires significant planning and coordination by the rear detachments of the deployed units, particularly if a soldier’s family comes to the post for the event.

Under the new policy the Fort Lewis headquarters staff will take on much of that work.

Army life is replete with ceremonies that mark promotions, changes of command, awards, homecomings and so on. Van Dyken pledged Thursday that saying farewell to fallen soldiers won’t become part of the routine.

“My commitment would be that we never allow it to become just another ceremony,” he said.

Officials at Fort Lewis said the 4th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division is scheduling a consolidated memorial on June 5 for the last four soldiers it lost in its first month in Iraq: Staff Sgts. David Kuehl and Kristopher Higdon, Pfc. Robert Worthington, and Spc. Mathew LaForest. A single memorial service for Sgt. Iosiwo Uruo, a member of 3rd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, will go on as planned this Thursday.

Dial a Boy

I’m a beautiful, intelligent, funny, girl with that auburn hair/golden eyes combination that reminds men of a certain FBI Agent that they crushed on in high school. I’m easy to get along with, a shoo-in with most mothers, and, in case you haven’t noticed, completely unlacking in the self-esteem department. My nice girl qualities mean that I have a steady supply of nice men in my life who, should I find myself conducting boyfriend-auditions once again, are more than willing to toss on a suit and accompany me to a plus-one affair with no strings attached. After all, we all know what men really think with, and these things usually have GREAT food.

All of which meant Jack-Diddly last night.

It all started Saturday when Kristen told me that the boyfriend was taking her to the O’Malley Inaugural Ball. Interesting, I thought. I figured that the tickets were way out of my price range and were probably all gone. Then yesterday, while at the inaugural in Annapolis, I realized that everyone there was talking about how “inexpensive” they were. Fifty to be exact. Open bar, tons of restaurants, and the chance to see Big Bad Voodoo Daddy live ????? Oh I was so in.

Since I was freezing my butt off in Annapolis, I couldn’t really do anything until I got home. Therefore, my evening pretty much went like this:

4:30 – Arrive home, plan to check email and hit
gym.

4:45 – Get ball ticket.

4:46 – Check email. Realize that all hell has
broken loose while out of office. Decide to forego gym.

5:00 – Get in shower.

5:15 – Get call from Kristen…they have an extra
ticket. Would I like? (Damn!)

5:16 – Thank Kristen. Explain that she is half
an hour too late. Learn she’s calling around. Place request for someone hot and
single. Realize that this is a Democratic Party event. Mentally amend request to
“single and mildly attractive.”

5:30 – Start hair and makeup.

5:45 – Get call from Kristen. She can’t find
anyone. Do I have a friend I can take?

Now, keeping in mind that I do have that steady supply of dial-a-boys, I figured it wasn’t going to be much of a problem. Who cares that we’re meeting in 45 minutes, I thought? Guys have to toss on a suit, make sure they don’t stink, and brush their hair. Free Food. OPEN BAR. This, I thought, was going to be a cakewalk.

Sure, Cakewalk. I sure am a funny girl!!! I started moving down the phone list. Here they are in random order:

1. Practically Engaged
2. Insane – only in phone so I can avoid calls
3. Friend, but way too interested in me to allow him to accompany me to anything where I look hot. ANYTHING
4. Staunch Republican
5. DC
6. Engaged
7. Phone Busy
8. Married
9. See #8
10. Salisbury
11. Co-Worker
12. Forbidden
13. Um, NO
14. Kristen already called him.
15. Drunk
16. Exiled out of state for work
17. Texas
18. See #5
19. He’s still in this phone?
20. See #5
21. Too close of a relationship with #13
22. See #5
23. See #19
24. Awkward would never begin to describe what the evening would be like.
25. Suit was at drycleaners…if he wasn’t obviously interested in me, I’d swear he was "washing his hair.”
26. See # 7 (twice!)
27. See #16 – tried anyway to see if he happened to be passing through. No dice.
28. Other plans.
29. See #19. Ironically enough, I did run into him there.
30. See #16

Yes, folks, that was 0 for 31 (including another one who wasn’t in the phone, but whose number I ended up getting from one of the guys we dismissed earlier).

Then, I tried some, shall we say, “alternative” routes. This included calling my sister and asking her for the number of a guy who she had gone out with when she was living up here. He seemed nice, they didn’t really hit it off, and I figured he’d be able to pick up a few stories for his comedy routine. She refused the goods (“practically engaged” my ass) but began suggesting other people I could try. Note to self: when your sister actually describes a potential date as “I know he’s not Mr. Socially Adept, but he’s a body,” you know she doesn’t quite have your best interest at heart.

For the record, both Julia and Kristen suggested the “head-hunter” who turned the head of HR at my office into my personal dating service. I told them he was quite out of the question.

Then, knowing that we still needed to get rid of the ticket, she suggested that I move on to the girls she used to work with. After all, girls like dress-up events with lots of single successful guys (Judge Reinhold flashbacks be dammed) and a good looks at the Mayor Governor at hand. I agreed that that may have been an option, but we still faced a bit of a challenge: I had spent the entire night calling my boys, and this was Black-Tie event. We were meeting at 6:30. It was 6:15. You see where this is going…. I did call her one friend from work who thanked me and then (though she was way too nice to say it) clearly thought that I must’ve been high to propose this at such a late hour. Yeah, she was probably right.

Considering that I never really expected to have a date for the evening and anyone that I would have come up with would have been strictly platonic, I didn’t let it bother me. I got super-cute, headed to the pre-party, and promptly ran into the two guys from that October incident at Café Hon (one of whom was the guy I cancelled and reinstated the date with three times). Awkward? A little. But I was determined to enjoy myself nonetheless.

And enjoy myself I did!! Food: to die for. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: hopping as usual. One lady asked me if they were a local band. I pointed her in the direction of “Swingers,” but I fear she may have misinterpreted that as “swingers club.” She moved away, scared. I kept dancing. Side bands: Fun dancy music. We ended up missing Kool and the Gang, but hands down the best band of the night… O’MALLEY’S FREAKING MARCH. They did three songs, and the entire crowd was going nuts. We grabbed our Guinnesses and sang along like we hadn’t heard the band in a year. Which, ok, we hadn’t.

It’s nice to be on the winning team. Even if you can’t find a last-minute date.

Frank Capra, eat your heart out

Have you ever looked at your life during a particular moment and realized, "by God, this is a scene from a movie!"? No, I'm not talking about those cheesy events where you attempt to recreate the final scene from Sleepless in Seattle or An Affair to Remember by taking your girlfriend to the Empire State Building for Valentines Day or any Princess Leia fantasies that your kinky boyfriend cooked up on a Saturday night. I'm talking about the natural moments that you don't recognize until just after they're over, when you find yourself standing on a street corner saying, "Didn't I see that somewhere before?"

As you can probably guess, I shared one this weekend.

This past Sunday I headed down to DC to pay my respects to President Ford (you guys know me and politics). Now, anyone who's been to the Capitol lately knows that since 9/11, there's no direct access to the building. You've got to go up a walkway on the right hand side (if you're facing The Mall), pass through security (seriously, why can't I ever get the hot Marine to feel me up?), and then slip into a side entrance. On extremely rare occasions you get to go around to the front door, and that's precisely what we did on Sunday.

I breezed through security (but someone still owes me a dinner!) and had made it to that part of the balcony where, when you look straight up, all you can see is the Dome. Kind of like this:

Now, let's face it, it's a pretty dome; it's an impressive dome; but, after almost an entire lifetime of visiting said dome and seeing it from The Mall, I'm sad to say that I've become used to it.
The woman behind me (roughly my mother's age which, if I hope to stay in the will, I will report as 35) however, had an entirely different point of view. She started gasping and shaking and looking up at the dome like a little girl.

"Oh, oh, OH," she exclaimed, prompting me to think that I had wandered into the diner scene in When Harry Met Sally.

I smiled at her, "It's beautiful isn't it. First time in DC?"

"Yes," she breathed. "We did it right, we did it right." She kept repeating herself while her friend -- clearly a DC suburbanite -- looked somewhat embarrassed.

"It's beautiful," I agreed, "But wait until you get inside."

While bummer-friend started relating the history of how this beautiful building was almost wiped out on 9/11, I wandered into the front steps. At first, I couldn't believe that you could reach a certain age (still 35 if my mother's reading this) without seeing Washington, DC. Then I realized that what I really was was jealous. I had grown up seeing The Dome, the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, the Cherry Blossoms, and all the other DC sights that are supposed to invoke patriotism and pride, and now they were just buildings and trees to me. This woman, this 35 year old woman was seeing them for the first time at an age where they could really mean something and when she would never forget the feelings they invoked.

She made me think, and as I left the Capitol and headed down the steps towards The Mall, I paused for a moment to look up at the dome once more with new eyes. And while it wasn't quite the eyes of the "lady on the Capitol Dome," or the eyes of the woman seeing it for the first time, it wasn't through "eyes on the ground either."*


* Just in case anyone doesn't have a clue what I meant by that, here's the speech from Jimmy Stewart's Jefferson Smith...

Just get up off the ground, that's all I ask. Get up there with that lady that's up on top of this Capitol dome, that lady that stands for liberty. Take a look at this country through her eyes if you really want to see something. And you won't just see scenery; you'll see the whole parade of what Man's carved out for himself, after centuries of fighting. Fighting for something better than just jungle law, fighting so's he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created, no matter what his race, color, or creed. That's what you'd see. There's no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties. And, uh, if that's what the grownups have done with this world that was given to them, then we'd better get those boys' camps started fast and see what the kids can do. And it's not too late, because this country is bigger than the Taylors, or you, or me, or anything else. Great principles don't get lost once they come to light. They're right here; you just have to see them again!

Drink of the Day

Just in case you were completely stumped as to what to order at the bar tonight, I thought I'd offer up this suggestion. No, I'm not going to share the name of this delectable concoction, but if you think about what day it is today, it shouldn't take too long to figure it out.

• 1 part Creme de Bananes (banana liqueur)
• 1 part Mandarine NapolÈon (mandarine liqueur)
• 1 part Kahl™a (coffe liqueur)
• Shake with ice in a cocktail shaker.
• Strain into a shot glass.
• Top with light cream and decorate with a maraschino cherry.

Strangely enough, I distinctly remember watching this on the UPB TVs, so that must've meant that winter finals week was MUCH later than I remember it being in 1998.

In case I haven't said it enough lately, I miss the Bartlet Administration.

Picture This

You're wrapping up your old job, trying to move your family to a new town, and trying your best to make it a smooth transition into your new job. So, what's usually the first thing to go?

If you're me, it's time at the gym. Not so for our state's new governor, who I just spent the better part of an hour with huffing and puffing on the elliptical machines at the Downtown Athletic Club.

People were walking up to him giving their congratulations and asking for information about his primary agenda. I stayed out of that for the most part, but as I walked past Governor O'Hottie (much better ring than Mayor O'Hottie, IMHO) I did offer a quick congrats of my own. He was extremely gracious to all of us, and I see wonderful things continuing to happen in Annapolis come this spring.

A woman's place

Is in the House, the Senate, and the Supreme Court.

I saw that on a button sold at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History a few years ago, and I believe it completely sums up what happened last night. This is an exciting time to be a Democrat. This is an exciting time to be a woman.


One hunting trip between Dick and George, and this woman could be President!

Earning the sticker

Some people vote out of civic pride, others vote because it preserves the Democratic process that this country was founded upon. I vote for those reasons in the general elections, but there's there's really only one reason that I vote in the non-Presidential Primary. That's right, kids, it's the sticker that looks like this:

It's Primary Election Day in Maryland, so, as usual, I decided to be a little late for work today just to make sure that my vote was taken care of. I've had friends who have waited until later in the day to vote, waited in line for over an hour, and then have been told that they couldn't because the "polls were closed." Of course they were Democrats and it was the 2004 Presidential Election, but that shouldn't have made a difference right?

Anyway, according to the Maryland Board of Elections and Ginny James' 1995 Government class, it's supposed to be an easy process: Walk up, smile pretty, get a card, toss it in the machine, select your candidates, save your votes, and watch the computer select whoever paid the election officials the most money on your behalf.

All of that would have been a relief. Sadly, this morning didn't go quite that smoothly.

I arrive five minutes before the polls were supposed to have been opened to find my elections officials still trying to piece together the machines. Apparently someone didn't take Networking 101 because the woman behind the table (who I actually never saw again after this point) is trying to jam the networking connection into the USB port. Oh great, I think, let's try to break the machines before we even get this thing off the ground.

Twenty minutes after the polls were opened, the machines are finally up and running. I get to the front of the line and learn that, despite completing all the necessary paperwork with the MVA when I moved a year ago, I'm not registered in the precinct. In fact, according to the election official, I'm not even registered in the STATE. My twin sister -- who moved from Georgia and was only living with me for less than a year before she moved to New York -- is. So, the fact that I've lived in the state for six years and have been registered in the state for six years doesn't really count for anything.

I'm only half-joking when I ask for her ballot.

"Sorry, miss, we can't do that. Frankly, you don't exist."
"Of course I exist. I'm standing right in front of you."
"Well, I can see that, but you're not in the system."

Basically, according to VoteBoy, the State "ate" my registration. I'm seriously tempted to tell him he could Eat Me, but I figure getting ugly with the elections officials isn't about to get me anywhere but a day-trip downtown. Therefore, I opt to play the Sister Suffragette card and tell VoteBoy that my grandmothers taught me from a very young age that women like my great great grandmothers fought hard for my right to vote and that it's a slap in their face that I don't. Therefore, I assure him, there's no way that I would "forget" to change my voting registration or let it lapse because, at the very least, I'm a white Protestant landowner, and even though I didn't have the right "parts" to vote until 1920, I met the other requirements established in 1776.

Desperate to get rid of me and my history-spouting ways, VoteBoy calls the Board of Elections. He calls me a "gal"; I choose to ignore that. NiceVotingLady tells me that VoteBoy is wrong, I'm registered in the State -- just at the old address (even though I filled out the paperwork at the DMV a year ago!). VoteBoy STILL can't find me in the state.

This time, I give in to the urge to push some people out of the way and "do it right the first time." I grab the stylus out of his hand and punch in my last name. Then, because I read the instructions on the screen, I punch "Find in State." Instantly, my name appears.

"Oh, did I not do that?" Um no, buddy, you didn't.

I give him back the stylus and start walking him through the process to get me registered. Really, folks, even a Macaca (a monkey for those of you not following the Senate race in Virginia) could do this as everything you need is right on the screen. Somehow, though, I'm the only one who seems to have passed any sort of reading comprehension test.

We open the screen that covers the provisional ballot. On the screen it says, "use the codes from the chart in Chapter 6 of the Elections Manual."

VoteBoy starts flipping through the elections manual and whining, "I don't see it, I don't see it."

I grab it out of his hand, flip to Chapter 6, read the codes, and go, "I'm a '1'."

"Are you sure?" Hold up, VoteBoy is now asking me if I understand the process? Something doesn't seem right about that. I assure him I'm right, so, he puts in the 1 and punches the button to print out the confirmation page. I sign it and ask for the paper ballot.

"We don't have paper ballots. Use this," VoteBoy says as he tries to hand me a card.
"No, I need a paper ballot."
"No, it's ok, you need this," he says and again tries to hand me the electronic card.

In unrelated news, this is about the time that a second election official appears and goes, "So, William Donald Schaefer just got four votes for Comptroller -- Ted here voted for him, and the machine registered it four times. That's not a problem is it?"

To placate VoteBoy, I wander to the machine (which I know will not work), and slide the card in anyway. Voting Card has already been used, the machine tells me. I head back to the table.
"Seriously guys, I need a paper ballot." I grab the elections manual (again) and start reading out loud, "Paper ballot...Number 2 pencil...pen...pink for Republicans, white for Democrats..."

VoteBoy wanders to the (unwatched!) table where all the supplies are being housed. He opens the envelopes marked, "Provisional Ballots" and goes, "Oh, here they are!"

I get the ballot, and start marking it. Then and only then, does VoteBoy decide to start reading the election manual and again thinks it's a good idea to quiz me on the process. "The ballots are different. Are you sure you have the right one?"

Seriously folks, would I really have gone through all the trouble and not picked up the right ballot? Think about that one will you...

I complete the ballot and say, "Now we're supposed to put this in a sealed envelope," suspecting that there's more to the process because I've only used a pencil so far and the manual mentioned a pen. VoteBoy, who has been looking over my shoulder the whole time, insists that "they" didn't give him any, so he grabs the envelope that the ballots came out of and puts mine inside.

"No, it's supposed to be a sealed envelope," I say.

He starts licking (the envelope, not me, Thank God); I start going through the stuff on the table. I find a second provisional ballot form (the one that needs the pen) and show them to him, "These have a peel-off seal...."

I fill out the form, put my ballot inside, and bring it to the head election judge who has dubbed me "good people" for not ripping anyone's head off and is very interested to know if I'd like to be a judge for our community Christmas parade. I tell him I'd think about it, but my primary concern is being an election judge for the General Election on November 7.

Over an hour after I arrived, I left the school. Since all the electioneers had been in and out of there while I was trying to "get my vote on," they were VERY interested in the final outcome. I filled them in and was walking away when one of them realized the final injury...

...I didn't get my sticker.

Why can't government be more like this??

In the late 60s, there was a bill in Congress to develop the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (you know, the people who bring you Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers, and show you hours upon hours of the best of the Tony Awards and beg for money every six months). The proposed endowment was $20 million, but because of the war, President Nixon wansted to cut that in half. Obviously, showing children hours upon hours of embedded reporters is so much better for their psyche than Grover and Cookie Monster.

This clip is the exchange between a young Fred Rogers and Senator Pastore. I have no idea what party affiliation Senator Pastore is, but it doesn't matter. Mr. Rogers talked, and Senator Pastore listened, and over the course of the exchange you could see and hear the fact that the Senator's mind was being changed.

This clip is a little long (seven minutes or so), but it's a good reminder of the fact that once upon a time, our politicians didn't look out for big business and their richest consitituents, they looked out for the people who would benefit the most by their actions. It was also possible for decisions to be made without a lot of political bantering and partisan power-plays. It's another reason that I'd miss the 60s if I had actually lived through them in the first place.

I'd embed, but YouTube won't let me. Click here.

Fun with Government Officials

After yet another morning spent at the light on Coldspring Lane and the JFX, I wrote a complaint letter to Mayor O'Malley about this whole light problem. Not one to write a normal letter, here's what I came up with...

How the Light Stole the Commute
With apologies to Dr. Seuss!

Every driver
Off Cold Spring
Liked driving a lot...
But the Light,
That lived just North of Cold Spring
Did NOT!

The Light hated driving!
The whole driving season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that his bulb wasn't screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his bulb was too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his timer was two sizes too small.

But,
Whatever the reason,
His bulb or his timer,
He stood there on Cold Spring, hating the drivers.
Staring down from his perch with a sour expression
At the warm, seated drivers stopped in their progression.
For he knew every driver down on that JFX
Was exceedingly late and getting more and more vexed.
And the more that the Light thought of them getting to work
The more the Light thought, "I must act like a jerk!

"Why for forty-five years I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop the drivers from moving!...
But HOW?"
Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE LIGHT
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" laughed that electronic fiend.
"I won’t ever, no never, NO NEVER turn green.”
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Grinchy trick!”
My bulb will not change, my timer won’t click!
“Those kids down at Poly, they think they’re so cool,
“I’ll stop them from ever getting to school!
“They’ll sit on the highway, not reading, not learning,
“And better and better, their gas will keep burning…”

"Pooh-pooh to the drivers!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no light change is coming!
"They're just pulling up! I know just what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"Then the drivers on Cold Spring will all cry BOO-HOO!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Light,"That I simply must hear!"
So he paused. And the Light put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising out from a Jeep.
It started in low. And it wasn’t a beep...
Or a honk…why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!

He stared down at Cold Spring!
The Light popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every driver on Cold Spring, the tall and the small,
Was driving! Without any light change at all!
He HADN'T stopped traffic from moving!
IT MOVED!
In a manner of which a cop wouldn’t approve.
Cars at the light, that should have stayed still,
Moved, two by two, into traffic, at their drivers’ free will.

And the Light, with his light-top-up-high-on-the-bar,
Hung puzzling and puzzling: "How could go those cars?
They moved without warning! Those Fords and those Rangers!
Right out onto Cold Spring, ignoring the dangers!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Light thought of something he hadn't before!
"Those drivers on Cold Spring," he thought, "they simply don’t care
"They won’t let me stop them from getting somewhere!"
The drivers don’t really care if they’re hit,
All they’re thinking is “I don’t have time for this [edit].”

But the drivers in cars still remembered the dangers,
To their Volvos and Jettas, their Fords and their Rangers.
They thought, “I cannot sit by and stay mute
And let a bad light mess up my commute.”
And the drivers in cars, those Volvos and Jettas
Thought, “I know just the way to make it all better.
I’ll call up O’Malley and he’ll start to work
On timers too small and lights that are jerks!

And what happened then...?Well...in Bawlmer they sayThat Martin O’Malley, he saved the day!The Mayor got that old light working right,
And traffic, it flowed, through the day and the nightAnd the drivers, they left that old JFX,
With less hassles and less of a chance of a wreck.

And those drivers, well they did much to remember
The work that O’Malley had done in November.
They drove to the polls, and there they concurred
That O’Malley should be our next governor!

The American's Creed

"I believe in the United States of America as a government of the people, by the people, for the people; whose just powers are derived from the consent of the governed, a democracy in a republic, a sovereign Nation of many sovereign States; a perfect union, one and inseparable; established upon those principles of freedom, equality, justice, and humanity for which American patriots sacrificed their lives and fortunes.

"I therefore believe it is my duty to my country to love it, to support its Constitution, to obey its laws, to respect its flag, and to defend it against all enemies."

-- Written 1917 by William Tyler Page, accepted by the United States House of Representatives on April 3, 1918.

I first saw these words yesterday while I was wandering around the Maryland State House, and for the past 24 hours, I've been wondering why Americans have never learned to recite these words as faithfully as they recite the Pledge of Allegiance. These words are, in my opinion, far less controversial than the pledge, and to my knowledge, they are the same words that Page inteded. The Pledge has been changed twice - with objections from Francis Bellamy and again by Bellamy's daughter - and now it's facing a third challenge. The original pledge failed in that it wasn't specific enough. In it's first incarnation, the pledge only said "my flag and the republic for which it stands." That was fine with Bellamy as he intended it to be a multi-use pledge for any citizen of any nation. When the US government decided that they needed to change it to "the flag of the United States of America," Bellamy objected. When, in 1952, President Eisenhower changed the pledge to include the words "under God," it was Bellamy's daughter's turn to object.

My problems with the pledge is that it aligns itself to a symbol of the country, not the ideals and principals that make the United States the great land it is today. A symbol is great, don't get me wrong, but you actually need that symbol in the room in order to pledge allegiance to it. The creed is different. It reminds us of why our forefathers and mothers risked life and limb to get here, it doesn't require a flag in the room, and it tells us what we should do to show our allegiance. It may be longer than the Pledge, but at least the content is clear.