Dear Mr. Carlson,
The media - and especially conservative media - is grooving debate on Iraq into a rut to make it seem we have no choice but to support the surge or expand the war into Iran. Conservative media - and most of the so-called "liberal" media, as well - lament Iranian support of Shi'a insurgents, making it seem we have no choice but to strike Iran. Nobody in the conservative media - and damn few "liberals" - mention that 50% of Sunni insurgents in Iraq are Saudis. Why do you all ignore that fact? Are you owned by Aramco?
And - you all keep framing the "al Qaeda in Iraq" issue exactly as President Bush wants it framed. You really want us to believe - that if we leave Iraq - that al Qaeda will just march into Baghdad and take over, unopposed. Do you really think a bunch of Sunni sectarian bigots will be greeted as liberators in a country with a Shi'a majority? In a country with mobilized Shi'a militias? Will Hezbollah idly stand by while al Qaeda takes over? The only thing uniting the sectarian lunatics is the competition to see how many of us they can kill. With us gone, they will have only each other to immolate. That inferno should keep them busy for a long, long time.
It's a pretty shameful thing we've done - light-heartedly and light-mindedly bringing this catastrophe upon the peoples of Iraq. But the surge cannot reverse the insurgency. Counter-insurgency specialists talk of an immobilization ratio of 10-1. Irregular/Guerrilla/Insurgent forces outnumbered 10-1 by conventional forces can achieve stalemate. Defeating an insurgency - and Malaya in the 50s is the gold standard of counter-insurgency - requires at least a decade and a 30-1 advantage. Those are the numbers. Read them and sober up.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Clowns
1) One of the co-owners of my health club, Larry, has a friend who paints houses. This friend and his partner were working a job directly across Pierce Street from Columbine when all hell broke loose. The police began ferrying the wounded - some seriously wounded - across the street and onto the lawns. They instructed the painters to get to work applying direct pressure to minimize bleeding. Soon, the two painters were up to their elbows in blood with about ten kids. Two television cameraman showed up. The painters yelled at them to roll up their sleeves and pitch in. They refused. Apparently, they prefered filming a kid bleeding to death over saving a life. I wonder whether their employer paid them a bonus for their work that day?
2) The local television stations stayed with the story, almost continuously, well into the evening. I watched the television at my terminal, with my co-workers, until 5:30. Then, I went to the home of my best friend, Bill Wright, a teacher at Lakewood High School.
As the horrible event unfolded, one of the anchormen never missed an opportunity to remind us that the Columbine area 'is such a nice neighborhood.' Every horrible detail elicited the same blood-curdling vacuity from the anchor. One could almost see the Grant Ranch developers - those touting their investment as 'the last great place' - pulling the anchor's puppet strings. I looked at Bill and said, "The denial machine is working at full capacity, today."
3) Shortly after the massacre, a local talk show host, Jay Marvin, encouraged kids to call in. He thought it was time for adults to begin listening to kids. I seldom pay attention to talk shows. But my ears perked up for this show.
A young man, probably a teenager, called in to offer the opinion that kids nowadays face the dilemma of NOT having new frontiers to discover. I think he wanted to develop the point that destruction is the only form of meaningful activity left. I'll never know because the host shut him down immediately: "I don't buy that! There are always new worlds to discover!" The kid clammed up. I don't recall any others calling in after that. So much for letting the kids talk!
Now, whether you agree with the kid or not, you must admit that he should have been allowed to develop his point - especially given that the host had urged the kids to call in. But Jay Marvin, like most talk radio hosts, simply refused to yield center stage.
And don't you think his remark was rather flippant? Did our host discover a vaccine for polio, this week? Climb the Matterhorn? Cross the Continental Divide in a Conestoga wagon? Land on the moon? Plant a flag on Iwo Jima? Sail to China on a Yankee Cliper? Charge up San Juan Hill? No, of course not. And, sorry, I don't think today's youth will find much inspiration in the adventures of another insensitive radio talk show host.
4) I watched a few minutes of the memorial service the Sunday after. The southern end of Jefferson County is loaded with evangelicals. Naturally, they invited Franklin Graham to speak. I listened to a few sentences reminding everyone that only through the Savior Jesus Christ can there be peace. He was preaching to the choir. I've heard it all before, so I turned off the television and went upstairs to read a book.
In the paper the next day, I read that a local rabbi 'felt disenfranchised' by Preacher Graham's remarks. I nearly fainted from the blood rushing to my temples! Imagine! One of the lost boys, the son of a Jewish mother, worshipped Adolf Hitler! The entire Jewish community, all of us (and especially the rabbinical order) have failed miserably. How could we have nourished this viper in our bosom - this dagger aimed at our hearts - and never known? For a rabbi to spare a single moment, expend a single neural impulse, critiquing the oratory of a competitor under these circumstances is vanity of galactic breadth!
5) When a new President takes office, most Americans wish him well. On January 20, 1993, my goodwill toward President Clinton was probably deeper than average (even though I voted for Perot). I felt that President Bush was a phoney and that President Reagan had bankrupted the country. I admired President Clinton's intellect. I thought he might turn out to be like President Kennedy, someone classy and poised.
But, more than any of that, I was impressed by the fact that he was from Arkansas. My family lived in Little Rock during the desegregation crisis at Central High School. The Governor at the time, Orville Faubus, made a fool of himself (and the state) by his words and deeds supporting the racists. My English mother thought she was living with extra-terrestrials during those years in Little Rock. When President Clinton was inaugurated, she smiled and shook her head, saying, "I can't believe this man is from Arkansas."
I am glad President Clinton survived the impeachment ordeal. Hopefully, we have had our fill of gutter politics and honey traps. But, I am still disappointed with the man. During the campaign, his enemies used Gennifer Flowers to fire a shot across his bow. He should have realized that he would have to give up the womanizing for the duration of his Presidency. He failed to do so. Apparently, his urges take precedence over all other considerations - including the dignity of the office.
At Dakota Ridge High School, President Clinton addressed the Columbine students. Afterward, he shook hands with all of the boys and hugged the girls, who noticed the difference in physical treatment. Sad, isn't it?
6) On August 16th, I transported some Columbine kids up to Windy Peak, one of Jeffco's outdoor education schools. We departed from Colorow Elementary to avoid the press circus at the high school. Before leaving, I asked the kids to choose a radio station. They selected KBPI, a hard rock station. After a few songs, the disc jockey took a call from a listener, who must've been in his late 20's. The listener remarked that he always liked school. He expressed some fatigue with all of the media coverage on the kids returning to Columbine and the focus on security. The disc jockey piped in, "Those kids at Columbine are justg a bunch of whiney rich kids." I looked in my mirror. Those listening had been wounded. I asked, "Do you want me to change the station?" "Please," a girl answered for all.
I wish these puffed idiots with a mike in their hands would quit imagining themselves as tough guys and start imagining themselves as human beings. I am reminded of how I reacted to my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That night, I wrote: "It is absurd to consider toughness and sensitivity as contradictory aspects of human nature. The man esteeming himself sensitive, discounting toughness, is neither. His effete superficiality is transparent to the true artist. The man projecting toughness to the world, mocking sensitivity, is neither. His false bravado elicits contempt from the true warrior. The artist and the warrior are one."
This idea is supported in both the Eastern and Western tradition. Chogyam Trungpa remarked, "To be a warrior is to learn to be genuine every moment of your life." Christopher Marlowe, in his play Tamburlaine, has the barbarian firmly assert, "Every warrior that is rapt with the love of fame, of valour, and of victory, must needs have beauty beat on his conceits."
There are many voices beating over the airwaves whose conceits comprehend nothing beyond their little pinkies.
2) The local television stations stayed with the story, almost continuously, well into the evening. I watched the television at my terminal, with my co-workers, until 5:30. Then, I went to the home of my best friend, Bill Wright, a teacher at Lakewood High School.
As the horrible event unfolded, one of the anchormen never missed an opportunity to remind us that the Columbine area 'is such a nice neighborhood.' Every horrible detail elicited the same blood-curdling vacuity from the anchor. One could almost see the Grant Ranch developers - those touting their investment as 'the last great place' - pulling the anchor's puppet strings. I looked at Bill and said, "The denial machine is working at full capacity, today."
3) Shortly after the massacre, a local talk show host, Jay Marvin, encouraged kids to call in. He thought it was time for adults to begin listening to kids. I seldom pay attention to talk shows. But my ears perked up for this show.
A young man, probably a teenager, called in to offer the opinion that kids nowadays face the dilemma of NOT having new frontiers to discover. I think he wanted to develop the point that destruction is the only form of meaningful activity left. I'll never know because the host shut him down immediately: "I don't buy that! There are always new worlds to discover!" The kid clammed up. I don't recall any others calling in after that. So much for letting the kids talk!
Now, whether you agree with the kid or not, you must admit that he should have been allowed to develop his point - especially given that the host had urged the kids to call in. But Jay Marvin, like most talk radio hosts, simply refused to yield center stage.
And don't you think his remark was rather flippant? Did our host discover a vaccine for polio, this week? Climb the Matterhorn? Cross the Continental Divide in a Conestoga wagon? Land on the moon? Plant a flag on Iwo Jima? Sail to China on a Yankee Cliper? Charge up San Juan Hill? No, of course not. And, sorry, I don't think today's youth will find much inspiration in the adventures of another insensitive radio talk show host.
4) I watched a few minutes of the memorial service the Sunday after. The southern end of Jefferson County is loaded with evangelicals. Naturally, they invited Franklin Graham to speak. I listened to a few sentences reminding everyone that only through the Savior Jesus Christ can there be peace. He was preaching to the choir. I've heard it all before, so I turned off the television and went upstairs to read a book.
In the paper the next day, I read that a local rabbi 'felt disenfranchised' by Preacher Graham's remarks. I nearly fainted from the blood rushing to my temples! Imagine! One of the lost boys, the son of a Jewish mother, worshipped Adolf Hitler! The entire Jewish community, all of us (and especially the rabbinical order) have failed miserably. How could we have nourished this viper in our bosom - this dagger aimed at our hearts - and never known? For a rabbi to spare a single moment, expend a single neural impulse, critiquing the oratory of a competitor under these circumstances is vanity of galactic breadth!
5) When a new President takes office, most Americans wish him well. On January 20, 1993, my goodwill toward President Clinton was probably deeper than average (even though I voted for Perot). I felt that President Bush was a phoney and that President Reagan had bankrupted the country. I admired President Clinton's intellect. I thought he might turn out to be like President Kennedy, someone classy and poised.
But, more than any of that, I was impressed by the fact that he was from Arkansas. My family lived in Little Rock during the desegregation crisis at Central High School. The Governor at the time, Orville Faubus, made a fool of himself (and the state) by his words and deeds supporting the racists. My English mother thought she was living with extra-terrestrials during those years in Little Rock. When President Clinton was inaugurated, she smiled and shook her head, saying, "I can't believe this man is from Arkansas."
I am glad President Clinton survived the impeachment ordeal. Hopefully, we have had our fill of gutter politics and honey traps. But, I am still disappointed with the man. During the campaign, his enemies used Gennifer Flowers to fire a shot across his bow. He should have realized that he would have to give up the womanizing for the duration of his Presidency. He failed to do so. Apparently, his urges take precedence over all other considerations - including the dignity of the office.
At Dakota Ridge High School, President Clinton addressed the Columbine students. Afterward, he shook hands with all of the boys and hugged the girls, who noticed the difference in physical treatment. Sad, isn't it?
6) On August 16th, I transported some Columbine kids up to Windy Peak, one of Jeffco's outdoor education schools. We departed from Colorow Elementary to avoid the press circus at the high school. Before leaving, I asked the kids to choose a radio station. They selected KBPI, a hard rock station. After a few songs, the disc jockey took a call from a listener, who must've been in his late 20's. The listener remarked that he always liked school. He expressed some fatigue with all of the media coverage on the kids returning to Columbine and the focus on security. The disc jockey piped in, "Those kids at Columbine are justg a bunch of whiney rich kids." I looked in my mirror. Those listening had been wounded. I asked, "Do you want me to change the station?" "Please," a girl answered for all.
I wish these puffed idiots with a mike in their hands would quit imagining themselves as tough guys and start imagining themselves as human beings. I am reminded of how I reacted to my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That night, I wrote: "It is absurd to consider toughness and sensitivity as contradictory aspects of human nature. The man esteeming himself sensitive, discounting toughness, is neither. His effete superficiality is transparent to the true artist. The man projecting toughness to the world, mocking sensitivity, is neither. His false bravado elicits contempt from the true warrior. The artist and the warrior are one."
This idea is supported in both the Eastern and Western tradition. Chogyam Trungpa remarked, "To be a warrior is to learn to be genuine every moment of your life." Christopher Marlowe, in his play Tamburlaine, has the barbarian firmly assert, "Every warrior that is rapt with the love of fame, of valour, and of victory, must needs have beauty beat on his conceits."
There are many voices beating over the airwaves whose conceits comprehend nothing beyond their little pinkies.
The Divisible Bill of Rights
At the end of the last day of the school year, every year, many of the drivers at my terminal gather at a local tavern. This year, we went to Greenfield's. Kelly (a hot-blooded woman of Irish descent) showed, even though she no longer drives a bus, having transfered to a better job with the Warehouse department. I had not seen her for several months.
Kelly knows many of my Columbine kids. A few years ago, her Ken Caryle Middle School route served the same neighborhood. She knows Patrick, the boy dragged out of the library window on national television. We talked about the kids we both know for about an hour. (I had promised one boy on the bus, Reed, that I would say, "Hi!," for him the next time I saw Kelly.) We both remarked on the peculiar feeling we had watching the events unfold on television that day, suddenly realizing that people we know were caught up in it.
Kelly, politically, is a real liberal. I have seen her argue the pro-choice position, ceaselessly, against all comers. Imagine my surprise when she urged her firm support for the Second Amendment. Once, in high school, one of her teachers spoke of gun ownership as a 'privilege.' Kelly erupted, "It's not a privilege. It's a right! It's called the Bill of Rights! All ten are precious or none of them!" Then, with an epithet-filled exercise of her First Amendment right, she stormed out of the classroom.
She makes a fine point, don't you think? All ten are precious. A local talk show host, Peter Boyles, apparently does not agree. Lately, he's been sealing his arguments with gun owners, saying, "What if one of the victims was your kid? Would you sacrifice your kid for the Second Amendment?" I take that to mean Mr. Boyles considers the Second Amendment expendable. Is he right? Or, is Kelly right? Is the Bill of Rights a unified whole? Or, are those Rights divisible?
Let us assume those Rights are divisible and we should throw out those which have wrought too much evil.
During Slavery and Jim Crow days, the southern states defended their racist policies behind the Tenth Amendment - State's Rights. Those states contravened the spirit of the Constitution by insisting on the letter of it - the Tenth Amendment. Behind its shelter, thousands of black Americans were lynched. Millions were intimidated from exercising their right to vote and denied access to the courts. With that kind of bloody history, we really ought to throw out the Tenth Amendment along with the Second. Maybe we could do it on the same day?
What about the Fifth Amendment? It has blood all over it. Thousands of racketeers, pimps, drug pushers, and other scum have escaped justice by invoking the Fifth Amendment. What if your daughter died of a drug overdose? Would you sacrifice your child for the sake of the Fifth Amendment?
If you don't agree with chucking out the Fifth, how about the Fourth? Why should the police have to wait for a search warrant? Let them swoop out of the blue and pounce on those drug pushers. Or, we could get rid of the Eighth. Remember those Wyoming goat ropers who tortured Matthew Shepard? Why should they be sheltered from cruel and unusual punishment? They merit torture. Let's do it! And the same for those racists in Texas who dragged their victim two miles down a dirt road. We should tie them to the back bumper of their pickup truck and drag them down the same dirt road until they die. Let's do it! And televise it! Do you think any racist would dare torture anyone ever again, knowing that they themselves would become the object of their cruelest fantasies? Let's get rid of the Fourth, Fifth, and Eight Amendments all in one fell swoop.
Amendments Six and Seven can stay. I have some qualms about the Sixth, though. It's in the interest of us all that criminals receive a speedy trial. A competent prosecutor can get a conviction and quickly punish the criminal. But, I don't see why the criminal's accusers should have to go through the ordeal - and danger - of a public trial. Why can't they remain anonymous? What use is a Constitution which compels people to be so brave? It simply sets them up to be victims again. Maybe I was too hasty. We should also get rid of the Sixth - or at least that part of the Sixth.
We can keep the Seventh. Of course, juries can act perversely. We all remember the O.J. trial. The Defense team managed to put together a jury ignorant enough to dismiss solid, conclusive DNA evidence when presented with a cockeyed theory that a racist cop must have planted that evidence. Throw in the fact that the victims were adulterers, stir in some breast implants - and you have a gross miscarriage of justice. I must admit - trial by jury is also expendable.
I am a writer, so naturally the First Amendment is sacrosanct. But, if we keep the Ninth Amendment - "The enumeration, in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people" - maybe I don't need it. Maybe I can look a censor in the eye and say, "Look! I retain certain rights. I think I have the right of Free Speech. You cannot stop me from saying whatever I damn well please!" Maybe, he'd agree.
Maybe?
Kelly knows many of my Columbine kids. A few years ago, her Ken Caryle Middle School route served the same neighborhood. She knows Patrick, the boy dragged out of the library window on national television. We talked about the kids we both know for about an hour. (I had promised one boy on the bus, Reed, that I would say, "Hi!," for him the next time I saw Kelly.) We both remarked on the peculiar feeling we had watching the events unfold on television that day, suddenly realizing that people we know were caught up in it.
Kelly, politically, is a real liberal. I have seen her argue the pro-choice position, ceaselessly, against all comers. Imagine my surprise when she urged her firm support for the Second Amendment. Once, in high school, one of her teachers spoke of gun ownership as a 'privilege.' Kelly erupted, "It's not a privilege. It's a right! It's called the Bill of Rights! All ten are precious or none of them!" Then, with an epithet-filled exercise of her First Amendment right, she stormed out of the classroom.
She makes a fine point, don't you think? All ten are precious. A local talk show host, Peter Boyles, apparently does not agree. Lately, he's been sealing his arguments with gun owners, saying, "What if one of the victims was your kid? Would you sacrifice your kid for the Second Amendment?" I take that to mean Mr. Boyles considers the Second Amendment expendable. Is he right? Or, is Kelly right? Is the Bill of Rights a unified whole? Or, are those Rights divisible?
Let us assume those Rights are divisible and we should throw out those which have wrought too much evil.
During Slavery and Jim Crow days, the southern states defended their racist policies behind the Tenth Amendment - State's Rights. Those states contravened the spirit of the Constitution by insisting on the letter of it - the Tenth Amendment. Behind its shelter, thousands of black Americans were lynched. Millions were intimidated from exercising their right to vote and denied access to the courts. With that kind of bloody history, we really ought to throw out the Tenth Amendment along with the Second. Maybe we could do it on the same day?
What about the Fifth Amendment? It has blood all over it. Thousands of racketeers, pimps, drug pushers, and other scum have escaped justice by invoking the Fifth Amendment. What if your daughter died of a drug overdose? Would you sacrifice your child for the sake of the Fifth Amendment?
If you don't agree with chucking out the Fifth, how about the Fourth? Why should the police have to wait for a search warrant? Let them swoop out of the blue and pounce on those drug pushers. Or, we could get rid of the Eighth. Remember those Wyoming goat ropers who tortured Matthew Shepard? Why should they be sheltered from cruel and unusual punishment? They merit torture. Let's do it! And the same for those racists in Texas who dragged their victim two miles down a dirt road. We should tie them to the back bumper of their pickup truck and drag them down the same dirt road until they die. Let's do it! And televise it! Do you think any racist would dare torture anyone ever again, knowing that they themselves would become the object of their cruelest fantasies? Let's get rid of the Fourth, Fifth, and Eight Amendments all in one fell swoop.
Amendments Six and Seven can stay. I have some qualms about the Sixth, though. It's in the interest of us all that criminals receive a speedy trial. A competent prosecutor can get a conviction and quickly punish the criminal. But, I don't see why the criminal's accusers should have to go through the ordeal - and danger - of a public trial. Why can't they remain anonymous? What use is a Constitution which compels people to be so brave? It simply sets them up to be victims again. Maybe I was too hasty. We should also get rid of the Sixth - or at least that part of the Sixth.
We can keep the Seventh. Of course, juries can act perversely. We all remember the O.J. trial. The Defense team managed to put together a jury ignorant enough to dismiss solid, conclusive DNA evidence when presented with a cockeyed theory that a racist cop must have planted that evidence. Throw in the fact that the victims were adulterers, stir in some breast implants - and you have a gross miscarriage of justice. I must admit - trial by jury is also expendable.
I am a writer, so naturally the First Amendment is sacrosanct. But, if we keep the Ninth Amendment - "The enumeration, in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people" - maybe I don't need it. Maybe I can look a censor in the eye and say, "Look! I retain certain rights. I think I have the right of Free Speech. You cannot stop me from saying whatever I damn well please!" Maybe, he'd agree.
Maybe?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
The Wright Stuff
Lawrence Wright's, The Looming Tower, is the essential primer on the rise of al Qaeda. Leave it to a screenwriter to illuminate the obvious fact that this is a war of imagination. Every American should read this book. Your failure to do so compromises your usefulness in the War on Terror.
Mr. Wright made hundreds of observations, calmly expressed, which bring to mind President Lincoln's efforts to get the Northern people focused on the task at hand: "We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country."
(Perhaps I will place a long list of specific reactions at the end of this essay. But there are two things I must comment upon.)
First, on the partisan level, it occurred to me that both the Clinton and Bush Administrations have made stupid decisions driven by mass angst. Clinton reacted to the Embassy bombings in Africa by sending cruise missiles after a pet food factory in Sudan. True, he had some intelligence suggesting the production of chemical weapons, but it was poorly vetted. Yet, at the same time, Sudan was trying to open a diplomatic channel to us promising the capture of bin Laden. This offer was spurned, in part, because a diplomatic success lacks the pyrotechnic splendor of a bombing. In sum, Clinton, like Bush, sought to appease American angst. We keep telling our leaders: "Sling some bombs around! Tell those towelheads, DON'T FUCK WITH US!!" The upshot is, of course, that we keep providing bin Laden with recruiting posters. More terrorists, not less.
Mr. Wright, I remind you, remains calm. Even when he describes the appalling failure of the C.I.A. to share (with the F.B.I.!) the Agency's knowledge of Mihdhar's and Hamzi's presence in the country, Mr. Wright maintains his composure. The Agency, perhaps, assumed that Saudi intelligence was trying to turn Mihdhar and Hamzi into double agents. They didn't want the F.B.I. charging in with arrest warrants. Instead, they permitted a team of doggedly motivated investigators working for a brilliant team of prosecutors (including Patrick Fitzgerald, by the way) to labor in semi-darkness. Astonishing stupidity! If it wasn't so stupendously tragic, it would bring to mind Captain Flagg from the M.A.S.H. television series.
Mr. Wright made hundreds of observations, calmly expressed, which bring to mind President Lincoln's efforts to get the Northern people focused on the task at hand: "We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country."
(Perhaps I will place a long list of specific reactions at the end of this essay. But there are two things I must comment upon.)
First, on the partisan level, it occurred to me that both the Clinton and Bush Administrations have made stupid decisions driven by mass angst. Clinton reacted to the Embassy bombings in Africa by sending cruise missiles after a pet food factory in Sudan. True, he had some intelligence suggesting the production of chemical weapons, but it was poorly vetted. Yet, at the same time, Sudan was trying to open a diplomatic channel to us promising the capture of bin Laden. This offer was spurned, in part, because a diplomatic success lacks the pyrotechnic splendor of a bombing. In sum, Clinton, like Bush, sought to appease American angst. We keep telling our leaders: "Sling some bombs around! Tell those towelheads, DON'T FUCK WITH US!!" The upshot is, of course, that we keep providing bin Laden with recruiting posters. More terrorists, not less.
Mr. Wright, I remind you, remains calm. Even when he describes the appalling failure of the C.I.A. to share (with the F.B.I.!) the Agency's knowledge of Mihdhar's and Hamzi's presence in the country, Mr. Wright maintains his composure. The Agency, perhaps, assumed that Saudi intelligence was trying to turn Mihdhar and Hamzi into double agents. They didn't want the F.B.I. charging in with arrest warrants. Instead, they permitted a team of doggedly motivated investigators working for a brilliant team of prosecutors (including Patrick Fitzgerald, by the way) to labor in semi-darkness. Astonishing stupidity! If it wasn't so stupendously tragic, it would bring to mind Captain Flagg from the M.A.S.H. television series.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Everyman Copes
As a school bus driver, I am usually free from about 9:30-1:30. Most days, I go home for a nap. On Hitler's birthday, my mother woke me, screaming, "All hell's broken loose at Columbine!" Groggily, the enormity of the event began to sink in.
I made it to work around 1:30. One of the drivers, Val, had just left a home full of hysterical kids. Her niece and a bunch of friends had fled there when the shooting began. Val seemed just barely holding together.
We had two old televisions at my terminal, donated by the drivers. Needless to say, we were all glued to the sets. At that time, our supervisors had to wait for the police to determine the extent of the cordon sanitaire around Columbine. All Jefferson County schools were in lockdown. Some Denver schools also locked down.
Finally, they sent us all to our first schools, even though they were still in lockdown. I sat alone in my bus at Carmody, listening to KHOW continuous news coverage. After 20 minutes or so, a kid (perhaps high school) asked me what was happening. I (inappropriately) blurted, "Some little shitheads at Columbine are shooting people!" The kid said, "Oh!" and walked on.
About 15 minutes later, Carmody let the kids out. They had just a vague idea of what was happening. When someone said there were kids shooting guns at Columbine, a few of the boys reacted, "Wow! Cool!" I had expected this, but lacked the heart to throw an appropriate fit. I just quietly asked them whether they wished to listen to music or the news. They all wanted to hear the news. As it became clear that many Columbine students were seriously wounded, a somber mood took over. We left the school. I made extra stops. Several parents were outside or at the bus stops waiting for their kids. I wondered how many would be enrolled at private schools the following year.
My elementary students seemed unaffected by the tragedy. I put on the music, keeping up the daily routine.
I finished my route and returned to the terminal around 5:00. The Hitler worship of the lost boys was being reported. I slammed my fist on the table and bellowed: I knew it! Little fucking Nazis!" I watched television until the office shut down at 5:30. Erin (a lovely young woman who must have been absent the day Generation X passed out the armor) and I were the last to leave.
As I was driving home, I decided to see how my best friend, Bill Wright, was doing. Bill and I graduated from Lakewood High School in 1974, a class of 490. Bill graduated 245th. He is so average, I sometimes think of him as Everyman. He was born in Wellington, Ohio (sight of the Lorain County Fair in mid-August every year). During the 1850s, Lorain County was a major stop on the underground railroad. Personal liberty laws were taken seriously. There were several big trials in Wellington - test cases for the Federal Fugitive Slave Act. Prosecutors experienced great trouble finding juries willing to convict. The South was enraged. One historian even argues that the Civil War began in Lorain County. Bill descends from simple, decent people.
Bill is non-violent, almost to a Jain extreme. He won't kill bugs in his house. He sweeps them up onto a piece of paper and evicts them to the garden. (My maternal grandfather used to do the same thing.) Bill teaches and coaches track at Lakewood. When I came by on Hitler's birthday, he was glued to the television. Until that moment, I had not thought about the people I know at Columbine. Bill, on the other hand, had thought of little else. He was scanning the coverage, each camera angle, looking at the people in the background. He spotted Andy Lowry, the football coach (and one of Bill's former students)at Leawood Elementary. He also spotted Ivory Moore, the track coach, Ivory is black, so there was reason to worry that the lost boys might have made him a special target. We never saw Rudy Martin, the basketball coach (Lakewood class of 1972). Usually, I would see Rudy's wife, Jan, at Peiffer. But not that day.
By the time I got to Bill's house, it was rumored that Dave Sanders might be wounded, perhaps from doing something heroic. To Bill, who knew his colleague well, that heroism seemed plausible. It also seemed plausible that Rudy might react in a similar way. Jan thought so. She dashed from Peiffer straight to Clement Park. While searching, a reporter stuck a microphone in her face. Jan slapped it away, saying, "I'm looking for my husband!" Eventually, she found him.
Rudy began that day way behind on his paperwork. To catch up, he traded Commons duty with Patty Neilsen. He was alone in his classroom when all hell broke loose. Patty took a bullet in her shoulder. She took charge of a group in the library. She called 9-1-1. She accurately described her location and immediate peril to the dispatcher. Somehow, this information was not relayed to the SWAT teams in a timely or prioritized manner. The lost boys found the library - and lambs for slaughter. Meanwhile, Rudy got himself and about 30 kids safely out of the school.
That night Jan received about 500 phone calls. One was from Bill, voice cracking with sorrow.
I made it to work around 1:30. One of the drivers, Val, had just left a home full of hysterical kids. Her niece and a bunch of friends had fled there when the shooting began. Val seemed just barely holding together.
We had two old televisions at my terminal, donated by the drivers. Needless to say, we were all glued to the sets. At that time, our supervisors had to wait for the police to determine the extent of the cordon sanitaire around Columbine. All Jefferson County schools were in lockdown. Some Denver schools also locked down.
Finally, they sent us all to our first schools, even though they were still in lockdown. I sat alone in my bus at Carmody, listening to KHOW continuous news coverage. After 20 minutes or so, a kid (perhaps high school) asked me what was happening. I (inappropriately) blurted, "Some little shitheads at Columbine are shooting people!" The kid said, "Oh!" and walked on.
About 15 minutes later, Carmody let the kids out. They had just a vague idea of what was happening. When someone said there were kids shooting guns at Columbine, a few of the boys reacted, "Wow! Cool!" I had expected this, but lacked the heart to throw an appropriate fit. I just quietly asked them whether they wished to listen to music or the news. They all wanted to hear the news. As it became clear that many Columbine students were seriously wounded, a somber mood took over. We left the school. I made extra stops. Several parents were outside or at the bus stops waiting for their kids. I wondered how many would be enrolled at private schools the following year.
My elementary students seemed unaffected by the tragedy. I put on the music, keeping up the daily routine.
I finished my route and returned to the terminal around 5:00. The Hitler worship of the lost boys was being reported. I slammed my fist on the table and bellowed: I knew it! Little fucking Nazis!" I watched television until the office shut down at 5:30. Erin (a lovely young woman who must have been absent the day Generation X passed out the armor) and I were the last to leave.
As I was driving home, I decided to see how my best friend, Bill Wright, was doing. Bill and I graduated from Lakewood High School in 1974, a class of 490. Bill graduated 245th. He is so average, I sometimes think of him as Everyman. He was born in Wellington, Ohio (sight of the Lorain County Fair in mid-August every year). During the 1850s, Lorain County was a major stop on the underground railroad. Personal liberty laws were taken seriously. There were several big trials in Wellington - test cases for the Federal Fugitive Slave Act. Prosecutors experienced great trouble finding juries willing to convict. The South was enraged. One historian even argues that the Civil War began in Lorain County. Bill descends from simple, decent people.
Bill is non-violent, almost to a Jain extreme. He won't kill bugs in his house. He sweeps them up onto a piece of paper and evicts them to the garden. (My maternal grandfather used to do the same thing.) Bill teaches and coaches track at Lakewood. When I came by on Hitler's birthday, he was glued to the television. Until that moment, I had not thought about the people I know at Columbine. Bill, on the other hand, had thought of little else. He was scanning the coverage, each camera angle, looking at the people in the background. He spotted Andy Lowry, the football coach (and one of Bill's former students)at Leawood Elementary. He also spotted Ivory Moore, the track coach, Ivory is black, so there was reason to worry that the lost boys might have made him a special target. We never saw Rudy Martin, the basketball coach (Lakewood class of 1972). Usually, I would see Rudy's wife, Jan, at Peiffer. But not that day.
By the time I got to Bill's house, it was rumored that Dave Sanders might be wounded, perhaps from doing something heroic. To Bill, who knew his colleague well, that heroism seemed plausible. It also seemed plausible that Rudy might react in a similar way. Jan thought so. She dashed from Peiffer straight to Clement Park. While searching, a reporter stuck a microphone in her face. Jan slapped it away, saying, "I'm looking for my husband!" Eventually, she found him.
Rudy began that day way behind on his paperwork. To catch up, he traded Commons duty with Patty Neilsen. He was alone in his classroom when all hell broke loose. Patty took a bullet in her shoulder. She took charge of a group in the library. She called 9-1-1. She accurately described her location and immediate peril to the dispatcher. Somehow, this information was not relayed to the SWAT teams in a timely or prioritized manner. The lost boys found the library - and lambs for slaughter. Meanwhile, Rudy got himself and about 30 kids safely out of the school.
That night Jan received about 500 phone calls. One was from Bill, voice cracking with sorrow.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Luddites at General Motors
Dear Mr. Titus,
I applaud your movie, Who Killed the Electric Car. Naturally, the visual image which stuck was of those perfectly useful, technologically advanced EV1s crushed in the Arizona desert. I was especially incensed with the GM spokesman assuring everyone that the components would be recycled. As I drove home, I tried to recall his name so I could send him a real nasty letter ('a hot bundle of paprika' as one of my heroes, General Stilwell, would say).
Soon after, I read Kurt Vonnegut's, A Man Without a Country. That diatribe against contemporary American society, coupled with your movie, urged me on toward Revolution as the only solution to this appalling decay of our Civilization. I lay in bed wondering how many vicious, warmongering plutocrats must be publicly executed to set the necessary salutary example for the others. I settled on 2500 as a sensible number, then fell asleep.
The next day, my Libertarian instinct asserted itself over Vonnegut's Socialism. My thoughts centered on his kind remarks for the Luddites:
Over the course of that day, the image of Luddites smashing looms merged with that of those smashed EV1s in Arizona. Suddenly, I realized that Luddites have taken over GM's Board of Directors. (And study the inutility of their decision to destroy the EV1. They hoped to protect their Parts Division, yet, it has since slipped into bankruptcy.)
In 1813, smashing machines was a capital offense. His Majesty's Government tried and executed 17 Luddites. Today, I think it would be fascinating to root out the 17 individuals most responsible for the decision to smash the EV1. Then, conduct a mock trial - with prosecutors and defense counsel. How about that for a sequel to your marvelous documentary?
I applaud your movie, Who Killed the Electric Car. Naturally, the visual image which stuck was of those perfectly useful, technologically advanced EV1s crushed in the Arizona desert. I was especially incensed with the GM spokesman assuring everyone that the components would be recycled. As I drove home, I tried to recall his name so I could send him a real nasty letter ('a hot bundle of paprika' as one of my heroes, General Stilwell, would say).
Soon after, I read Kurt Vonnegut's, A Man Without a Country. That diatribe against contemporary American society, coupled with your movie, urged me on toward Revolution as the only solution to this appalling decay of our Civilization. I lay in bed wondering how many vicious, warmongering plutocrats must be publicly executed to set the necessary salutary example for the others. I settled on 2500 as a sensible number, then fell asleep.
The next day, my Libertarian instinct asserted itself over Vonnegut's Socialism. My thoughts centered on his kind remarks for the Luddites:
"I have been called a Luddite. I welcome it. Do you know what a Luddite is? A person who hates newfangled contraptions... Today, we have contraptions like nuclear submarines armed with Poseidon missiles that have H-bombs in their warheads. And we have contraptions like computers that cheat you out of becoming... Progress has beat the heck out of me. It took away from me what a loom must have been to Ned Ludd two hundred years ago. I mean a typewriter. There is no such thing anywhere."
Over the course of that day, the image of Luddites smashing looms merged with that of those smashed EV1s in Arizona. Suddenly, I realized that Luddites have taken over GM's Board of Directors. (And study the inutility of their decision to destroy the EV1. They hoped to protect their Parts Division, yet, it has since slipped into bankruptcy.)
In 1813, smashing machines was a capital offense. His Majesty's Government tried and executed 17 Luddites. Today, I think it would be fascinating to root out the 17 individuals most responsible for the decision to smash the EV1. Then, conduct a mock trial - with prosecutors and defense counsel. How about that for a sequel to your marvelous documentary?
Maxim for a Free Society
Dear Dr. Mahin,
I applaud One War at a Time, your tribute to President Lincoln's wise management of foreign policy during the Civil War. Throughout the escalation into this misadventure in Iraq, I could not help but make comparisons between the Lincoln and Bush Administrations.
Our 'shock and awe' for the citizens of Baghdad, tactically, reminds me too much of bin Laden's 'shock and awe' for the citizens of New York. The choice between the terrorists and us, for the rest of the world, is not as clear as I would like it to be. President Lincoln, I am certain, would have demonstrated the clearest possible distinction. I borrow a quote of Lincoln's from your book.
The present crisis requires a leader with Lincoln's breadth of view. But, perhaps, it is not meant to be. Perhaps American power must be de-legitimized - that we must be exposed as too immature to be trusted with this kind of power - in order to pave the way for the emergence of a truly representative and sovereign United Nations capable of 'augmenting the happiness and value of life to people of all colors everywhere.'
I applaud One War at a Time, your tribute to President Lincoln's wise management of foreign policy during the Civil War. Throughout the escalation into this misadventure in Iraq, I could not help but make comparisons between the Lincoln and Bush Administrations.
Our 'shock and awe' for the citizens of Baghdad, tactically, reminds me too much of bin Laden's 'shock and awe' for the citizens of New York. The choice between the terrorists and us, for the rest of the world, is not as clear as I would like it to be. President Lincoln, I am certain, would have demonstrated the clearest possible distinction. I borrow a quote of Lincoln's from your book.
"... the Founding Fathers 'meant to set up a standard maxim for a free society which could be... constantly spreading and deepening its influence and augmenting the happiness and value of life to people of all colors everywhere."
The present crisis requires a leader with Lincoln's breadth of view. But, perhaps, it is not meant to be. Perhaps American power must be de-legitimized - that we must be exposed as too immature to be trusted with this kind of power - in order to pave the way for the emergence of a truly representative and sovereign United Nations capable of 'augmenting the happiness and value of life to people of all colors everywhere.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
