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.

Prom is totally gonna be awkward in two years

Mary Kay and her little pink car have struck again, this time in North Carolina. Important parts of the article included.

School: No Evidence Of Romance Before Teacher Married Student
POSTED: 9:09 am EDT July 5, 2007 WILMINGTON, N.C. --

There was no credible evidence of a romantic relationship between a 40-year-old high school science teacher and a 16-year-old student until the couple married, Brunswick County school officials say.

Brenton Wuchae was a cross country coach who mentored Windy Hager at South Brunswick High School. He resigned in mid-June, the same day he married Hager.

In November, South Brunswick High School Principal Vann Pennell directed Wuchae to cease all contact with Hager, noting that a lengthy list of phone calls and text messages with the student "did raise questions of poor judgment."

The school suspended Wuchae in May after finding that he had communicated with Hager at school. Both he and the teenager continued to deny a romantic relationship, the school board said.

Wuchae resigned and married Hager, who had recently finished her sophomore year as one of the school's top runners.

Hager's parents had approached both the school and authorities in hopes of ending the relationship. The Hagers have said they reluctantly signed a consent form allowing their daughter to marry her coach.

Yeah, I hardly know where to start on this one. Oh, wait, yes I do...

Those of us who work in education know the frustrations when a parent is completely and disgustingly uninvolved in their child's life. You know them as the people who bring the whole redneck family to graduation and then stand there dumbstruck, threatening to sue when the entire class has collected their diplomas and Alan's name was never called. They're also usually the people who don't figure out that Alan Allen was skipped until after Yerman Zimmerman has walked across the stage and the risk of eye injuries from flying caps increases significantly

Even worse are the parents who are aware, but are blissfully ignorant when the rules actually apply to their child. These are the people who demand that Junior's week-long absence be overlooked because, after all, it was only a little trip to Disney World, and his cousins who he wanted to go with couldn't go with weren't available during the first week of April, they were in school. Confidential to them: Next time dig up a dead aunt. We'll buy that one.

But in this case, these people were good parents. they recognized that there was a predator preying on their little girl, and they attempted to enlist the help of multiple authorities: the school, the board, and the local sheriffs' department among them. No one would help. The school saw enough cause to suspend Wuchae in May, but because both he and the girl "continued to deny a romantic relationship," no further action was taken. Honestly though, since this was the fourth case involving teachers and students at the school in the last year, don't you think that they may not have been the best people to investigate? I'm just saying.

The School Superintendent was doing a fine job of covering her (of-age) ass: "Prior to the surprise marriage, there was simply no credible evidence," said Katie McGee. Again, this is a woman who watched one teacher at the same school land himself on the sex offender registry earlier this year. Do you think she may have wanted to take a closer look?

In the end, the parents, the same parents who begged and pleaded with authorities to help them to no avail, weighed their options and reluctantly signed the consent form. while this may certainly seem shocking, it was actually a wise course of action. By allowing their daughter to marry her teacher (ew), they can probably keep her in school and in their lives. If they hadn't, she'd have disappeared in the middle of the night.

Eager to take a look at the "happy couple" (and admittedly see exactly what type of hottie on both sides it would take to encourage this type of marriage), I put Google to good use. When the photo was returned, I found myself even more disgusted than I already thought possible. It's not that he's a total dogface (which he is) and she looks like a little girl. It's the t-shirt...

HE'S A VMI "GENTLEMAN!"

A Word from the Hokie Nation

Virginia Tech family members across the country have united to declare this Friday, April 20th, an "Orange and Maroon Effect" day to honor those killed in the tragic events on campus Monday, and to show support for Virginia Tech students, faculty, administrators, staff, alumni, and friends. "Orange and Maroon Effect" was born several years ago as an invitation to Tech fans to wear orange and maroon to Virginia Tech athletic events. We invite everyone from all over the country to be a part of the Virginia Tech family this Friday, to wear orange and maroon to support the families of those who were lost, and to support the school and community we all love so much.

Also, many young Engineering Professionals around the country are taking their Professional Certification exam this Friday. Many are young VT Graduates who have lost professors and friends in these awful events. As Certified Engineers will tell you, studying for this exam has consumed their lives for the last several months. To have this happen in the home stretch is simply not what they need. If you could please take some time on Friday to send some warm thoughts and good luck their way, I'm sure it will help and be appreciated.

The Dawg Pound ♥'s Hokie Nation!

April 16, 2007

There is a saying in the Hills of Virginia that "of course God is a Hokie fan. How else can you explain why the trees turn Orange and Maroon in the fall?"

Of course, there are other sayings about the only intelligent sign of life in Blacksburg being the mileage sign to Harrisonburg, how if you couldn't get into a "college" like UVA, you went to Hokie High, and how if you wanted a good date to the campus formal, you needed to tip early. But, then again, none of that is important right now.

What is important is that the illusions we had about our college campuses being safe were shattered in a few hours this morning. In what appeared to be an isolated incident at the time, some asshat with a gun shot his ex girlfriend in West Ambler Johnston Hall (West AJ). Then, two hours later, he was in the Engineering Building, taking at least 30 people with him as he went down in a "blaze of glory."

Again...asshat. We could talk about the selfishness of killing oneself, but seriously people, if you're gonna do it, please consider doing it in such a way that is personal and private and involves minimal clean-up. Of course, before you get that far, please also consider calling a suicide hot line like 1.800.273.8255 (TALK). These people can help. Let them.

In the days and weeks to come, I'm sure we'll learn more about this, the worst mass shooting in US History. We will come to know what motivated the gunman and what he was doing minute-by-minute. It will come to define a generation of college students in the way that Columbine defined our little brothers and sisters eight years ago and the way Kent State defined our parents. It will be talk-show fodder and a ratings booster (though really, ABC7 in DC, did you HAVE to use an orange and maroon crosshairs logo?) for the more insensitive of our mass-media outlets. Fox News, I can't wait to see what you come up with. Then again, maybe I can.

And slowly, life will go on in Blacksburg. The trees will turn orange and maroon again. We will drive down from Harrisonburg to see our first string be humiliated by their third-string. Exams will be taken, freshmen will travel in packs, mass quantities of bourbons and cokes will be consumed. UVA will still be full of themselves. Things will get back to normal...eventually.

But for a moment, a brief moment, don't forget to put your heart into the hills of Blacksburg. Then take your heart out. Put your heart back in and...well, you know the rest.

After all, commitment to healing and the brotherhood of all Virginians...isn't that what it's all about?

We don't know them...

But we should.

They were doing their job.
She was on vacation.

They spent their last days surrounded by the sands of a desert that they never asked to go to.
She spent hers ordering desserts and drugs.

They leave behind families, children, lovers, and friends.
She leaves behind a little girl and at least three known baby-daddies.

They were defending our country.
She was defending her weight-loss secrets.

They were part of a senseless situation of someone else's creation.
She was a sensless creation all her own.

They were an incomplete press-release.
She's front-page news.

All four died on Thursday.

We don't know them...
But we should.

About f-ing time

A couple of months ago, I wrote this post about how fed up I was about the fact that Grey's Anatomy star Isaiah Washington was being held to a different standard than all the other Hollywood Bigots of 2006.

It took awhile, but it seems that Hollywood is catching on that a double-standard isn't cool.

Of course, it took Washington saying what he said a SECOND time in a more public forum (the first time of course being in the midst of that famous on-set fight), but at least something is being done.

That's All, What's Next?

Update: Reading the news this morning, it looks like Washington actually may be fired after all. I should totally go into psychic analysis for my next career opportunity.

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!

One more thing for the resume

Mom, Dad, I know you always said you'd be proud of me for whatever I do, but I know that the honor I'm about to tell you about is something that I doubt you'd ever dreamed of for your little girl.

No, I didn't win Miss America (though I hear the Miss USA crown could be up for grabs in a few days), and I didn't discover the cure for cancer. This, trust me, is much, much bigger.

I am Time Magazine's Person of the Year.

To be fair, I should admit that I'm sharing the honor with about 50 million of my closest friends (and, really, they are...my MySpace profile says so), but it's still an honor to be considered above false presidents, great women, and the various and sundry despots (Pinochet, Hussein, Hastert, Foley) who could have been considered front-runners for the honor that you have raised me to believe is a benchmark for the success or failure of a particular year. The people who have come before me have included the greatest aviator of all time, the Duchess of Windsor, both of you (mom twice), presidents, popes, queens, dictators, and Bono. No, not Bozo the Clown, Bono the hot Irish rocker. Yummy....

I guess, if we're being honest here, the distinction of being named POTY bothers me a bit. The fact of the matter is that the honor wasn't given to all of us for doing anything more than sharing. Whether it's our blogs, our MySpace profiles, or a crazy video we put together for YouTube, all we did this year was observe the world around us and share our observations. Sure, together we may have taken down Senatorial Candidates and exposed Congressmen for the pervs they were, but we also dished about our dates, outlined our quests for girlfriends by the end of the year, came up with funny anagrams that ensured that you'll need the Rosetta Stone to talk to your eventual grandchildren, spoofed those PSAs that were supposed to teach us valuable lessons, and gave new soundtracks to childhood classics. Sure, we were creative, but I think you'll agree that we all could have done without someone hand-farting the Star Spangled Banner and Lindsay Lohan telling us all to "Be Adequite."

Something tells me that this wasn't quite what Al Gore had in mind.

So, while I'm accepting this honor under a bit of duress, I am, nevertheless, accepting the honor bestowed upon me and the rest of the "Web 2.0 generation." This is purely in the hopes that this will be the beginning of something beautiful and that the validation that we, the bloggers, the YouTubers, the Facebookers, the MySpacers, and yes even the drunkards from Late Night Shots have received from the main stream media will cause us to abandon our plans to produce yet another Brokeback Mountain parody and possibly use our influence for something good, like bringing another POW home.

A girl can dream, right? In the meantime, let me tell you about my latest date.

Hate Speech in Shades of Grey

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last two weeks, you’ve heard the story. If you haven’t, the basic premise is simple: Michael Richards (Seinfeld’s Kramer) got up in the middle of the LA’s Laugh Factory to do a set that wasn’t appreciated by certain members of the audience. In response to these hecklers, he unleashed a shocking racial tirade that would be best not repeated anywhere. Seriously, it’s not a pretty sight.

Almost immediately, Richards found himself raked across the coals (rightfully so) by members of the black community. In response, he went out and immediately began a round of apologies, most of which were deemed “insincere” in light of the new Seinfeld DVD hitting stores this week. Website after website called for the boycott of the DVD set, and it’s pretty much a certainty at this point that Richards is not going to “work in this town again” for a very, very long time.

Being that this is the third high-profile, hate-speech incident involving a member of the Hollywood community, the suggestion has been made that it would probably be better if we eliminated certain words from our lexicon entirely, namely the word that Richards used (starts with an “n” ends with outrage). While this is certainly an interesting option, and I firmly believe that hate-speech does not belong in my household, the fact of the matter is that part of the beauty of the Constitution is the right to express an opinion, no matter how incendiary. In other words, fundamentally, I must agree with Voltaire: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” We’ve lost too many of our freedoms in the last five years, for us not to embrace any example of free speech, no matter how disgusting we may find it personally. If you’re offended by someone else’s speech, leave or use your rights to make your own point. If we start censoring each other, we, as a society, are no better than the individuals who swore to uphold and defend the Constitution and then walked all over it in the interest of Homeland Security. And, by the way, parents, it is totally a good idea to use the idiots of the world to teach your children that “sugar-tits,” while certainly creative, is not a term that should be used on the playground or anywhere else in polite society.

What I find interesting, however, is that there seems to be an inconsistent message in Hollywood regarding what is and is not acceptable hate-speech. No, I’m not talking about the use of the n-word being “ok” when Richard Pryor features it as a part of his act, but “completely racist” when it’s Larry the Cable Guy employing the term. Sure, that’s definitely confusing, but I think the unspoken agreement is that if you’re a member of the group, you can use otherwise offensive terms as terms of endearment; if you’re not, prepare to see backlash if it comes flying out of your mouth.

Instead, what I’m trying to get my head around is the idea that Michael Richards is desperately trying to salvage his career while Isaiah Washington is still gainfully employed on TV’s hottest show and has not been labeled by TMZ.com as a “prejudiced celebrity” (they’ve got a slideshow, go check it out).

Scarcely a month ago, a message was sent by ABC that while “outing” someone as an African American is not ok, outing someone as a homosexual clearly is. In the midst of much hyped on-set brawl between himself and Patrick Dempsey, while using words that were of such an “extreme nature,” that the National Enquirer refused to publish his name (and when the bat-boy people refuse to tell the “full story,” you KNOW it’s got to be bad) and physical violence, Washington yanked costar T. R. Knight out of the closet and dumped his sex life in the laps of the American public. This wasn’t an In and Out/Tom Hanks Oscar speech situation here either. It was Washington, shoving Dempsey and screaming that he wasn’t his “little f**got” like Knight. Washington later issued a pat apology and the ABC spin machine released statements saying that the issue was “over.” Shortly thereafter, he cancelled his appearance on Ellen Degeneres’ show and headed to Oprah where he “explained” the incident away by claiming it was a “combination of fatigue, pride, and passion.” Knight, Dempsey, and the rest of the cast went along with it, and Oprah didn’t push the issue. When members of the online community suggested that Washington be fired (and possibly replaced by ER’s Eriq La Salle), Shonda Rhimes leapt to Washington’s defense and suggested that the people calling for Washington’s exit were themselves “racist” as they saw two black men as interchangeable. Really, I don’t think that was the intent of the original post, but then since I wasn’t the original poster, I can’t speak for them. However, neither can Rhimes – and she should have sought to clarify the intention instead of shooting her mouth off. After all, it’s quite possible that the poster simply wanted to make the point that on the Thursday night doctor show, La Salle is far superior to Washington as the overworked, stressed-out, brilliant surgeon – no matter what his skin color is.

The fact, however, remains that the double standard employed by ABC (surprising because most of my gay friends came into my life thanks to an internship with the Walt Disney Company) and the MSM simply must be addressed. Washington should be required to make the same efforts as were required from both Richards and Gibson after their incidents. Washington should appear on talk show after talk show begging for his continued success as an actor like society is demanding Richards do now. He should voluntarily remove himself from the cast for the time being and meet with members of the gay community like Gibson is doing with the Jewish community. He should issue an apology that sounds like less of an excuse and more of a sincere effort to make amends. ABC, Rhimes, and the cast of Grey’s Anatomy should stop trying to sweep the incident back into the closet and send the message that Washington’s speech was just as offensive and hurtful as that of the other actors who were stupid enough to open their mouths this year in “fatigue, pride, passion, and/or inebriation” (pick an excuse). I’m not saying that Washington be censored entirely, I’m just saying that what’s good for the goose should be good for the gander in the eyes of Washington’s employers and the show’s corporate sponsors and fans. Erase the grey zone and show the world that hate-speech, no matter who speaks it or who its victim is, has no place in our workplace, our living rooms, or our lives.

Photos of beauty and tranquility

I blame it on Rockwell.

Thanks to the holiday yesterday, I had the opportunity to work from home. A few hours in, I was starting to get the idea that I should take advantage of the spectacular weather and head out of town to take a few snapshots of the beauty, peacefulness, and tranquility that is the Amish way of life. Yes, you read that right, I said Amish.

After all, I thought, those 80-degree October days don't come around that often, and it so sunny and clear. The way I saw it, I couldn't really resist.

It was a great plan, so I don't really know why I didn't complete it. I downloaded the directions to Lancaster County and got my stuff together, but I never actually got in the car. Instead, at around 10 AM, I sat back down and kept typing away on my work project.

Three hours later, I learned that I just would have been in the way. Yesterday was anything but a quiet day in Amish Country. Five little girls are dead, five little girls are clinging to life because some madman saw them as easy targets.

I was planning a trip to Amish country for photos of peace and tranquility. Now, all I can do is pray for that peace for the families and the recovery of those who were spared initially.

Thank Heaven for Little Girls?

In case you missed it this week, one of the biggest stories to hit the wires was the debut of the "Bratz Bra" - a PADDED bra for the six year old set.

Now, I don't consider myself to be all that conservative, but padded bras for six year olds? Something doesn't seem quite right about that. It's bad enough that Osama and Saddam are more familiar names to the post-9/11 generation (for the record, the little girls being targeted for these bras were in diapers when the planes hit the towers) than Ken and Barbie will ever be, but now our little girls are facing a bigger threat than Al Queda will ever post -- a blow to their body image brought on by the celebrity party-girls and a pressure to grow up way too fast.

I remember how embarrassed I was when my mother announced that it was time for me, at nine, to get my first training bra. At first I thought it was cool that my mom thought I was enough of a woman to take on this rite of passage. Then, Monday rolled around, and I realized that I was the only girl in my class who actually had one on. Since it was the 80s, before the age when first graders were sued for sexual harassment, I endured a lot of snapping until the other girls caught up and we shared the load. My saving grace, however, was that I was damn smart and tuned in to current events. As Gilbert Blythe said to Anne Shirley, "Being smart is more important than being pretty," and I took that to heart. Thanks to my academic success, I was able to build a healthy self-confidence that has carried me farther than looks ever could. My idols were Nancy Reagan, Mary Lou Retton, Sally Ride, and Princess Diana -- smart, beautiful women who possessed significant talents and spoke to the message that little girls could grow up to be anything they wanted -- even princess.

So where did we go so wrong? Why are the granddaughters of the ERA generation not only NOT burning their bras in a quest for equality and solidarity, they're embracing the curse of the boulder (pebble?) holder at a younger age than ever before? Even worse, they're already flirting with the dangers of anorexia (because, you know that the biggest insult that any girl can receive is that she's "fat") and are told that mid-driff shirts and thongs are "nice girl" attire. They're not, but that's the message that these kids are getting. The role-models that I grew up with have been replaced by Paris, Nicole, Mischa, and Lindsay -- walking skeletons whose biggest talents are talking their way into clubs and stealing each others boyfriends. Even our First Lady is a puppet who hides behind her crazy husband and whose greatest success in the last 20 years is to have raised two of the most notorious of the party girl set. Gee, she must be so proud.

Our great feminist sisters are gone, and the strong women who try to rise in their stead are often labeled lesbians by men who are afraid that they're actually making sense. However, there's still hope for the next generation. If we each take the time to tell our little girls -- be they our daughters, sisters, cousins, students, friends or neighbors -- that they are important, that they are athletic, that they are pretty, and that they are valued for who they are, we can still produce a generation of girls who can remain children for just a little longer and whose grandmothers can be truly proud of.

RIP Ann Richards: An idol for smart girls every where who reminded us that "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels," and who seemed to have had both the the self-confidence and father I had been blessed with: "I have always had the feeling I could do anything and my dad told me I could. I was in college before I found out he might be wrong."

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.

5 Years ago...

This country was shocked out of a false sense of security with a terror from the sky that none of us could ever have imagined. No, I'm not going to slam on the President (or the former President if you're watching ABC right now). This was really something that none of us could have expected.

In the days and weeks that followed 9/11, the people who had done so much to make us laugh prior to the events were back on the air attempting to bring some normalcy to our lives. One of these people was Jon Stewart on The Daily Show. His message spoke to me in a way that my parents and my President really couldn't.
With that in mind, I think that today, on the fifth anniversary, it's worth watching again...

We will never forget

You've been Fogeled

I'm sitting here watching Treasure Hunters on NBC, and my stomach is just turning. Is it gross-out TV a la the typical Discover Health fare? Of coures not, the stomach turning comes from the behavior of one of the Treasure Hunting teams. Specifically, the Preacher and his family, who basically represent the deceptive duality alive and well in American organized religion of the 21st century.

In the first episode, teams were diving for clues when one of the girls needed to take a quick break for air. The guy honestly competing against her decided to take a break with her because, in his opinion, it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of her while she was grabbing a quick breath. The Preacher didn't think that, however. After the girl retreived her clue and was swimming to surface, Papa Fogel ripped it out of her tired hands and laughed as he swam away.

Tonight's episode featured more dickhead behavior by the family. Their simpering daughter couldn't carry the canoe, as required by the competition, so another team stopped to help. The team that helped was rewarded for their good deed when Mama Fogel convinced them to stop ahead of schedule "just in case" and then hauled ass down the river. They "made up for it" by offering a prayer that basically said, "THanks for getting us into second place, we hope everyone is ok with that." Um, no, they weren't.

Over the last few years, Americans have seen their freedoms ripped away, their basic rights to pursue life, liberty and happiness, an thier children sent to die on a relgious crusade under the direction of a so-called religious administration. As a descendent of those who came to this country in search of religious freedom, I am saddened, no, disgusted byt the direction this county has taken in the last six years. The saddest part about all of this is that if Bush had replaced Jesus with Madison as the author of the documents that ultimately govern our country's laws, he would have actually found what he was so desperately looking for (you know: WWMD).

It's blatenly obvious that this trend is here to stay for the time being. While I can't control the behaviors of most organized religions (though I do have to say that I support the bold steps taken of late by my own Episcopal church), nor can I control the behavior of the governmental leaders "elected" to serve this country. What I can control, however, is what I am exposed to for entertainment purposes. For that reason, I will not be watching Treasure Hunters until the Fogels are gone.

Those who fight on the side of truth, right, and justice

A year ago, my Support Our Troops magnet was swiped from my car. Even though I had always intended to replace it, I never did.

After learning about the massacre – let’s not put a “pretty” name on it, we all know what it was – at Haditha, I’m glad I saved that $5.99. The reason is simple: I can’t support our troops anymore.

I have never understood or trusted the reasons we were in Iraq. The case for war was made too quickly, and the line of the administration was that if you weren’t with us, you must support terrorism. I guess with that logic, I suppose that the 28% approval rating justifies the tapping of everyone’s phones. However, as much as I didn’t support the reasons we were there, I supported the men and women who were being sent to the front of the “War on Terror.” Being a “Navy Junior,” I understood that even if you don’t agree with the mission and its reasoning, you trust that your Commander in Chief is working with the best knowledge and has the best of intentions in sending the troops wherever they’re going. You also trust that missions will be conducted with the utmost respect for civilian life and that anyone who doesn’t respect that will be dealt with in the proper way.

Unfortunately, though that may have been the case at the beginning, the incident at Abu Ghraib Prison, the “accidental” bombing of the Golden Mosque, the massacre at Haditha, the shootings of pregnant women, and the subsequent cover-ups of each have shown that throughout the course of the war, the lines have been blurred to the point that it’s impossible to tell who, exactly, are the “terrorists.”

When Abu Ghraib went to trial, the usual line was “I was just following orders.” There’s no telling what the excuses for Haditha will be, but possible candidates include:

• I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place


• I was angry over my comrade’s death


• We feared for our own lives.

It’s the last excuse that I find the hardest to believe. If it were a house full of adults, I may have been able to stomach it. But these were children. I don’t care how “angry” or “afraid for your life” you are, you don’t shoot a child. Shooting children and photographing the adults in a sexual manner make the people who do this in the name of the United States of America no better than the gang of 19 who executed September 11 in the name of Allah.

Five days after Pearl Harbor, former First Lady Grace Coolidge said, “…it will be a long hard conflict that will call for the utmost effort from every one of us but we cannot doubt that the forces which have truth and right and justice on their side will win.” Right now, I’m not sure which forces – the Americans or the insurgents – those are, and until I know, I won’t be supporting either.

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.

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.