First, I want to apologize to my fellow Kossocks for not responding to queries regarding my last post regarding the Drill, baby drill. Bills, too long ignored by me had to be formally addressed by me. They have been and so I am back, for now.
The recent Gulf Oil spill sickens and angers me and I'm sure many of you guys have gone round and round along similar lines.
One of the main purposes of this diary then is not to tell any of you something you may not already discussed. As some of you might have guessed about me, I am more interested in ideas those in the establishment may not have considered at this point.
...in my opinion..
...Life often has a way of teaching us things by showing us events that happen we have no control over: hard lessons, yes, sometimes, but always necessary. These lessons can be wonderful like the one I learned from Kimoko whose touch was the first time I knew sex could also mean love. They can be terrible like seriously hurting someone trying to rape you then blaming yourself, over a period of years, with guilt and artificial self-judgment.
Or these lessons can be works in progress like the one I am both learning and teaching with my ex-girlfriend and close friend Julia about leaving one love behind, embracing a mild but persistent form of Autism, while moving forward in search of a deeper more meaningful commitment.
Don't worry: this is not a confession. The events briefly described here are designed only to set the context of what I feel is inherently wrong with the bulwark of contemporary American Conservative Opposition at work in the discourse of the party who has dedicated themselves to the blind faith of "just say no" symbolized by the so called freedom cry of "Drill Baby, Drill."
I am the first to admit that many of my past diaries have been, somewhat no strike that: often, my ideas are a bitch to understand let alone respond to. For that I apologize to all fellow Kossacks. Yeah, for the most part, I am in my own little world: but I'm trying.
I am out there, there's no disputing that fact. In many ways I am somewhat like a kid alone in an ivory tower of my own making and choosing but I believe I have something to say about what is quickly becoming an established view regarding NASA funding and the well worn, some would say: worn out, operational model of our current Space and technological Program (s).
The following diary entry is a reprint from my blog: from this side
There has been much said about the upcoming national debate over the pending legislation pertaining to financial reform. The following philosophical observation proposes one possible plan for financial reform: one route, at least in theory, this necessary reform might take as law makers continue to craft the essential ingredients of American Economic regulation.
This entry further underscores my belief that philosophy can successfully blur the boundaries between philosophical discourse and science (in this case, economics)and that this departure IS generally accessible, non-synthetic and therefore, very political in the contemporary sense of the word.
Sometimes, the most dangerous dog in the junkyard is the one who's injured. The one every one thinks is beaten: everyone, that is, except for said, junkyard dog.
My Grandfther, an African American Indian who grew up in Oklahoma in the late 1890's used to always tell me:
...boy, you caint ever turn your back on someone you beat...even when they put down they gun or they knife and surrender, no matter what they say, you give'em a chance to get back at you, they will...
My Grandfather was talking about what happened in Tulsa sometime in the early 1920's: when the white folks burned down what was known at the time as the Black Wall Street. Most of my kin who lived through that mess passed down to all us kids a simple rule:
...ain't nothin' that good means you take it for granted. Nothin'
As I grew up in suburban Detroit, I never understood what that meant, but the older I get, the more it slowly dawns on me.
Once upon time in a magical land of Red, White and Blue,
There lived a Great Old Proud Elephant with something he believed
Only he could do:
Only me, Only me
said the elephant in glee
from the tip tippy top of his trunk
to the bottoms of his four stubby porky pig feet.
Only me, only me
As many of you know full well by now, (D)Rep. Bart Stupak of Michigan and his group in the House are presenting a significant impediment in getting the votes to pass H.R. 4872, the Bill that reconciles H.R. 3590 passed by the Senate in December and H.R. 3962, passed in the House a month earlier.
I, like some of you, have been reading these Bills since H.R. 3200. I am not going to go into what each Bill says or did say at some point: it's not important, in spite of what Rep. Stupak alludes to by making his stand.
What is important, I feel, is for someone to suggest a plan for a reasonable outcome this Sunday at three o' clock when, quite probably the whole World will be watching to see what we Americans and their first African American President in its brief History will actually do.
A plan like the following:
What are we doing: those of us in leadership positions? In a recent diary entitled "Justice and Population Biology" the author makes several valid and poignant remarks about the "animal soul" we all share as human beings on this planet in general and in this country in particular.
The animal soul is that part of us that is concerned with immediate gratification; the drive to eat that donut even though our reason tells us it's bad for us. In addicts it's completely in control - like the guy smoking through the tube in his throat. There have been many, many occasions when I have heard the voice of reason, quite clearly, and still done otherwise.
I emphatically agree with the author's basic perspective. The premise is well researched, and concisely developed. Yet, I would hasten to add, our situation as leaders, wives, husbands and otherwise productive members of society: such as those of us currently debating and caucusing the pending Health Care legislation in whichever House the "musical chair" of the fickle finger of fated responsibility is pointing as the crow flys as time marches on, is itself at risk.
And when its said and done, History will either blame or seek to conceptualize the last man and woman left standing without a leg to stand on.
In general, the debate about the Human Rights of LGBTg Americans to Marry in this country is often depicted by religious conservatives: drooling over their pre-requisite populist sound bites and, Biblical Theologians, fuming with Augustinian or Aquinas' non secular rationalism, in a discussion that usually winds up dead ending over the validity of what's pre Christain versus what's post-Pauline.
But I am not going there this time like I attempted in the previous diary.
Instead, the purpose of this diary is to assert that Homosexuality is an inalienable right: protected by the underlying Constitutional Principle first set forth in The Declaration of Independence as one of the sovereign rights of man.
Moreover, I maintain that:
in order to establish a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity,
that all the amendments, especially the First, have this concept as its fundamental cornerstone. And it is the First Amendment which has been so radically expanded of late, that I will focus on.
One of the main supports of Republican Clevergentsia particularly regarding Health Care Insurance Reform is a sense of ordained power. This diary focuses on one crucial element of that feeling of innate superiority: the phallic privilege of a hetero masonry wall of righteousness Republicans have chained themselves to in order to elicit alms in the way of market share from the common man and woman of America.
As the title suggests, this diary will focus on an underlying issue of Anti Gay sentiment in American politics and religion. It is my belief that the so called toughness of the Republicans n the issue of Health Care Insurance Reform is essentially more of a "manhood" preservation" thing on their part.
Subsequently, their recalcitrance regarding the current HCR bill is suspect. The truth they are looking for is not in what's right or wrong or even in what is or is not affordable. They see themselves as the small guy on the beach, who some big guy gave a "sand facial" to and they want to make a statement. And when men want to make a statement and they feel as though there is no alternative, what do they do? Well, they do what they know.
My name is Thomas Eugene Krawford Jr. Disability is part of my family background and so is, either paying exorbitant health care premium costs or, in the case of both my brother's oldest son and my sister's two children as well as her husband, being denied coverage not once or even twice, but many, many times. That is what brings me to point of this open letter.
As a man with Asperger's Syndrome, a mild form of Autism characterized by a unspecified developmental forgetfulness to recognize the need for help when help is needed, I watched all six hours of the attempt at bi partisanship and more than once thought I was looking at myself, especially when I obsess on the strictness of objects, regardless of whether such strictness is called for or not.
Over the past few days, in the cab I drive here in Ann Arbor, I have been listening to WAAM, a local radio station. WAAM broadcasts Michael Bennett, Glenn Beck as well as a few homegrown conservatives like Elder Levi Yuille. It's a lot like Big Time Wrestling.
In much of the World Wide Wrestling Federation, unless you're talking about the likes of a Bruno Sanmartino, WWWF Champion for 11 years from 1963 to 1971 according to the Wikipedia, lurid storylines, over the top theatrics and the "ideal of the Ultimate Avenging Lone Wolf Warrior" is a uniquely American re-conjuration of the old time Prometean myth of individuality.
Is it any wonder then that this kind of myth wouldn't resemble a short cut catharsis? An "officially" Independent I-have-a lot of-black friends-so I'm not-racist-America perspective starving for an instant miracle, but settling for the spectacle of the "extreme" titillation of the politically incorrect view. Indeed, the entertainment value is much like getting Thunderbird when you can't get Bordeaux. Yeah, you're poor, out of work and no one listens to you, but you can still get a hell of a good buzz and be American to boot: can't beat a deal like that, can you?