Not with a bang but with a whimper.

Why a whimper? Fear. Fear is what drives people these days. Fear of the economy crashing, fear of the terrorists, fear of change. Fear drives hate. Fear drives paranoia. Fear drives bigotry.

This last couple of weeks, I have been poking fun at our society with some TS Eliot, and have been waiting for that funny little story to post to fit the title of this post, something full of snark and absurdity.

Instead, I got this:


Sorry, TS- there were bangs signalling the end and they were gunshots in a Holocaust museum.

See, this is where fear leads. It leads to ideas of us and them, and once we have us and them, we have to be better than they are. Then they have to be bad. Then they have to die. In this case, it's a White Supremacist, and like so many intloerant bastards, he claims God is on his side, and he's working for Jesus.

Hey asshole, Jesus was a Jew who claimed everyone on Earth was a child of God.

The White Supremacist movement wants America back to its core values.

Hey asshole, America was founded under the principle that all men are created equal. Forgive the irony that time and place of authorship paints that statement with, but this is America, and we are all in here together.

There are a lot of honest Conservatives out there who just genuinely want to maintain their faith and values while honestly being part of the solution. Here's a chance; denounce this man now. Right now. Make sure Neo-Nazis don't become the face of Conservatism in America. Talk about how we can acknowledge we have different beliefs, but we don't have to resort to violence over it.

There are a lot of Liberals out there who will equate this to Conservatism as a whole. Don't do it. Acknowledge the good honest Conservative movement out there, and reach out to it in order to work together to put aside the fear this man tried to sow.

America. Put aside your fear. E Pluribus Unum- it's the only way America survives this Century.

Otherwise, it goes out with a whimper of fear.

This is the way the world ends.

So, I am a big fan of science. People tell me (on both sides) that it's contradictory to be an enthusiast of Science while being a man of Faith, but I am personally all into the idea God loves knowledge and gets a happy proud parent grin whenever we do something like map his human genome or figure out something on the Deific concept of quantum entanglement.

I am also a big fan of America as a nation and concept. It always hurts my heart a little when I hear about American students not holding up in Science against foreign students, but I also keep in mind a lot of the countries to which these studies compare us don't allow kids below a certain grade point to go to High School and instead send them to a trade school, thereby guaranteeing another generation of wrench turners and plunger pilots (both honorable and necessary professions, don't get me wrong). So I am usually not too bothered by the numbers because I know our schools allow everyone in, and on occasion someone who seemed destined to just be a clerk in a patent office has a flash go off in their head and the theory of relativity is born (yes, I know he didn't start in America- it's just an example. Sheesh you're a tough crowd today!).

So, it was with great joy we went to The Daughter's 8th Grade science fair last night. Let me talk about The Daughter for a moment. This is the girl who in 7th Grade asked her teacher if she could skip reading “Ole Yeller” because she was immersed in “Beowulf.” She also recently wrote an essay describing how initiating curfews leads to a tyrannical state and the duty of the citizen to hold the state accountable and at bay. 'At's my girl.

Anyway, The Daughter does a science project using soap to open human cells and electrolytes in gatorade to create a solution with visible chains of DNA, to see if you can tell the difference between different humans and even animals (getting the sample from the cat was a real pleasure- helpful Dad). I expected similar work from her fellow 8th Graders. After all teachers approved this stuff.

Instead I was greeted with such projects as “Will I last longer if I play as a bad guy in 'Fable II'?” and “How long will different Kool-Aid flavors dye my hair?” There were also several kids who did the old “Bread Mold- which one develops faster” trick, which each of my kids did in 4th Grade.

I suppose I don't fault the kids for going with what interests them, but why the hell are teachers approving this and letting people think its science? There were a couple of other kids, probably four including The Daughter, who didn't cop out and did something which taught as well as used scientific method. And a few at least had hypothesis/test/result formats. I don't understand though why we are letting ourselves get away with this.

Further- there were no prizes handed out. Only participation ribbons, all of which were blue. And, the whole thing, literally all of it, was over in 30 minutes. The last pep rally took an hour.

I know public education has its problems, but how many are self induced? Have we beaten these teachers into submission with low salaries and PC rules? Do I really need a computer in every classroom just to tell a kid that playing a video game isn't science?

Oh- by the way. Playing “Fable II” aggressively and not bothering to think about what your doing makes you last longer. Thanks for the life lesson, kid.

The Daughter is looking for passage off planet.

Memorial Day

So, for Memorial Day I am going to talk about Christopher. Infantry guy from Roswell, New Mexico. Married, had a little girl. Loved rock music, particularly Black Label Society. He had a big BLS flag which hung over his rack in the barracks. Had a sweet little electric guitar he used to play along to their albums to, along with an amp which would occasionally piss off the people in the bay with him. He loved old rock too- Tom Petty, Skynard of course. Had a fair amount of Johnny Cash.

He wasn't politically stupid either. Read a lot of Right side stuff; some O'Reilly etc., but also had a well dog-eared copy of Howard Zinn's “A People's History of the United States.” He liked video games, usually ones where he did what he did in real life- war games where you go out and shoot the bad guy and keep going until someone gets you. He had his games crammed in with his movies- mostly stuff he'd bought there in Iraq, playing the games and the movies on a little TV he'd crammed into his little space with his guitar and music and books.

When I met him, all that were left were these mementos. I went through it, item by item, meeting the man with whom I would never speak. Filing the pictures of his wife and daughter. Counting the CDs (nearly 300!) and movies and placing all of it into footlockers, carefully inventoried and then locked away.

Christopher and his squad walked into a building north of Baqubah, Iraq that morning, and the entire thing blew up on them, killing him and his entire squad. I was the officer who inventoried and packed his things to make the trip home he never would. I was sorely tempted to put a note, some little piece of comfort or condolence for his wife and daughter, but luckily I was wise enough to forego this; I didn't really know him. I only knew what was left. I only had an evidentiary connection to who he had been, and somehow in my mind that created a relationship of some kind, a bond with a man with whom I had a lot in common, but whose name I only learned when I was handed the info sheet with his name, last, first, middle initial across the top. I had no right to him though, and what could I say to his wife or child except, “he seemed like a good guy.”

It's been more than a year and a half since I put together Christopher's personal effects. He still comes to mind when I see a Black Label Society t-shirt, or hear Tom Petty's “Full Moon Fever.” I hope his family has learned to cope, and I hope they remember him fondly. Even though I have no right to...

...I miss him. Weird huh? For Memorial Day, I ask you all to remember someone who shouldn't be gone, but since they are, should be missed.

Relocated

Whew! Times goes fast when you're in a move, yet in other ways drags on like a non-anesthetized tooth pulling. Time in a hotel room; interminable. Time in an airport; preternaturally slow. Living in a house waiting for you furniture to arrive; see above. Oddly though, it is suddenly the end of June, and I didn't even see it coming. I and my clan are successfully moved into the GFNWSGF (Great and Free North Western States of Greatness and Freedom). Some culture shock coming from Europe. First of all, we Americans are fat. I include myself, but as I look around me I now see what Europeans see when we are over there. It's not just having weight- there's lots of reasons for that. We don't take care of ourselves. I saw overweight Germans- and they dressed in such a way as to enhance their appearance. Today I saw a woman who couldn't have been under 220 wearing a halfshirt and hiphuggers. People go out in clothes that should be reserved for lounging around the house. The Europeans don't do that. Sure they don't shower that often either, but at least they are appealing to the eye. They never appear unkempt.

I have also noticed (connected to this) that the portions served in American resturants would feed a family in Iraq for a week. Yet I pay for it so I am inclined to eat it.

And we drive really damn slow on the highways. When there are three lanes of road, 60 MPH is just silly.

But- on the other hand I can go to stores on Sunday and after 5PM. I can read the newspaper. The selection on the shelves is a delicious result of free enterprise. Things I had to special order in Germany I can now just go buy. My inner consumer is very happy.

So here I am- back in the USA. It is good to be back, but can I ask you all to run a comb through your hair before you go out? Thanks.