Offended? Move to Vermont.

I’m sure that by now, most of you have heard about the great bacon kerfuffle up in Vermont. It’s been all over the Internet, but just in case you missed it, I’ll recap:

The proprietors of Sneakers Bistro posted a sign outside their establishment that read, “Yield for Sneakers Bacon!”  

Soon, an Internet chat room called the “Winnoski Front Porch Forum” was visited by one single solitary complainer who stated her case that as a vegan who lived in a Muslim household, the sign personally offended her. Almost immediately, the owners of the Sneakers Bistro removed the sign. The City Manager of Winnoski practically broke her arm  patting herself on the back over this beautiful display of “inclusiveness” thusly,  “Winnoski is a diverse community and that’s the way we like it. It’s uncomfortable, but discomfort can be a source of growth, not just a source of anger and frustration.”

Ahh yes, growth. The fine folks in Vermont have now defined for the rest of us what it means to be a part of a “diverse community.” Apparently it means assuring the God-given right of every citizen to never be offended.

I’m not exactly sure what matrix the City Manager uses to measure Winnoski’s diversity since the town’s population is 87% white, but I will take her word for it. Regardless, it sounds like a great place to live since if you don’t like something, all you have to do is complain about it once and it will go away. Imagine the possibilities…

1.     As a well dressed Christian man, I find the sight of teenage boys with their pants hanging down below their asses personally offensive.

2.     As someone who is lactose-intolerant I find the presence of the ice cream truck in my neighborhood every day during the summer highly provocative and personally offensive.

3.     As a devotee of classical music I find the ear-blasting sound of rap music coming from the car next to me at the stop light personally offensive.

4.     As a faithful Catholic I find the Ruth's Chris Steakhouse particularly offensive on Fridays

5.     As a proud Arab I find the smell of bagels wafting out of Eintein’s every morning personally offensive.

6.     As a man who struggles with his weight I find the ripped abs on the bathing suit mannequins at Macy’s personally offensive.

7.     As an Irish-American I find the mascot of the Notre Dame football team personally offensive with it’s suggestion of drunken brawling and it’s stereotypical term, Fighting Irish, an affront against my ethnicity.

See how easy that was? Let’s all move to Vermont!

ISIS

I don’t know about you but I long for the days when the only thing called ISIS was the dog on Downton Abbey.

Practically every day for weeks now mornings have brought fresh images of some ghastly beheading or indiscriminate slaughter perpetrated by this band of black-garbed Muslim fighters. We are told that it is their intention to establish a worldwide caliphate and to one day raise their black flag over the White House. This is a group who executes Christians and anyone else they encounter who doesn’t prescribe to their brand of Islam, including fellow Muslims. They have no use for gays, and like their women barefoot, pregnant and young. In just a few short months they have stormed onto the scene and cut a swath of land from Syria to Iraq which they now “control” in much the same way as prison guards “control” a prison. Religion of peace, indeed.

We are reminded by tenured professors, secure in their ivory towers 5000 miles from the slaughter, that ISIS represents a small minority of Islamic thought. We are assured that the vast majority of Muslims are peaceful folks just like us who just want to live in peace. Perhaps they are right. However, whenever I see these professors on television I am reminded that it was these same men and women who assured us three years ago that the “Arab Spring” was about to bloom all over the Middle East, ushering in a new era of democracy and pluralism.

I have no doubt that ISIS and other violent permutations of Islam do indeed represent a minority of thought in a religion as vast as Islam. However, they are the ones with the guns and they are the ones that always seem to grab the initiative. It is also true that the Nazi’s in Germany never won a majority of the German vote in their rise to power. But the majority of German thought had neither the energy nor the will to stand up to Hitler, so in the end it didn’t matter.

From the PLO, through Hamas, and Al Qaeda, now to ISIS, the only strain of thought that has ever mattered in the Muslim world has been the guys with the AK-47’s.
 

I eagerly await the day when the world is talking about the groundbreaking medical research being done in the great Islamic universities. I can’t wait to discover the Islamic Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Dante and Bach. I’m counting the days until some Islamic businessman dies and endows a peace prize to rival the Nobel.

But until that happy day, I’ll have to be reassured by all the smart people that Islam is in fact a religion of peace, and what I have witnessed for the past fifty years is all a big misunderstanding. 

Marital Communication via Texts

I got a text from my wife yesterday morning at 9:45 which began as follows:

 

         “I’m toying with an idea…”

 

Perhaps never in the history of texts has there been typed a phrase more pregnant with possibilities than this one. These are five words that could mean anything, they hang there producing fear, dread, excitement, expectation. What on earth is she up to? Has she been overcome with a vision of how to redecorate our bedroom? Has she been surfing the internet and discovered some exotic locale for our next vacation? Has she decided to quit teaching and become a celebrity chef?

 

        “…what would YOU think of…”

 

Uh-oh, now she has placed the decision in my hands. Great! If I say, no, I’ll be the one responsible for crushing her dream. On the other hand, maybe she is just employing a figure of speech…what would YOU think…as in this is what we’re going to do, I hope you like it. Or maybe she really is seeking my permission. Calm down man, it’s just a text!!

 

        “…of having a fire this evening…”

 

Hmmmm. Very interesting.

 

        “...and inviting Mom and Dad and Sharon’s family to come have hot dogs and s’mores for dinner?”

 

So, last night there we all were sitting around the fire-pit and roasting hot dogs on a delightfully cool night in August. It’s probably the first time in my life any such thing had been done in Richmond, Virginia in August. I associate many things with this particular month, but sitting around a campfire isn’t one of them. It was a wonderful idea that sprang from the mind of my wife, perhaps the most hospitable person on the face of the Earth.

 

I think when or if I retire, we should buy some gorgeous house somewhere in Maine and run a Bed and Breakfast. That way Pam could get paid for doing what comes natural to her…having people over for snacks!

Top Ten Best Things About the Empty Nest

The empty nest is great. In the month of July Pam and I moved our daughter and her new husband into their new apartment in Columbia, South Carolina. Then a week later moved our son into his new rental house in Nashville, Tennessee. Finally, after several false starts and 26 years of kid-centric living, we are home, alone. Now that we have had an entire month of freedom under our belt, let me list for you the best parts of empty nest life:

1.     We never have to fuss at either of them about how messy their rooms are. Every time we pass by their doors, their beds are all made…just like the last time we checked. What a relief it is not to have to nag them about it. Now, if we get unexpected guests from out of town. We won’t have to scramble around making their rooms presentable. Of course, we’ve never actually had any unexpected guests show up on our doorstep recently…or ever, but if it happens, we’ve got a couple of immaculately clean guestrooms going for us.

2.     Since our kids aren’t here to constantly leave their bedroom lights on 24/7, our electricity consumption has been slashed by…3.5%

3.     Now that they have moved out, the street in front of our house doesn’t look like a used car lot. Their two cars aren’t there and neither are the cars of their friends. It’s just empty…and since Pam and I both park our cars inside the garage, you can hardly tell if anyone is home…kind of like an abandoned house. It’s great.

4.     Our grocery bill has been cut virtually in half. Finally, the cupboard isn’t stuffed full of chips and snacks. The freezer isn’t packed to the gills with ice cream and freezy pops and all the other delicious stuff that they used to inhale. As a consequence, we are eating healthier. Yes, no more calorie filled sweet treats for us, no sirree Bob.

5.     Did I mention the laundry? Did I mention how we only have to wash clothes once a week or so? That’s a good thing…right?

6.     Quiet, it’s so very quiet. Peace and quiet used to be an impossibility around here and now it’s like…all the time. Really great.

7.     We don’t have to clean the kids’ bathroom anymore. We don’t have to scrub Kaitlin’s hair products off of the tile floor with a toothbrush. It really wasn’t her fault. She had to use all kinds of stuff on her beautiful curls to keep them from getting out of control. Cleaning up after Kaitlin’s beautiful delicate curls are now the responsibility of Jon. Finally…a clean guest bedroom, and no beautiful curls. Great.

8.     Oh, and the music thing. When Patrick was here, he was always sitting down at the piano working something out in his mind, playing the same measure over and over trying to perfect it. It was always very difficult to read with that piano going all the time. Sometimes I would sit there at my desk and just listen to him play and the next thing I knew, thirty minutes had flown by. I am so much more efficient now that I don’t have beautiful, creative, soulful music being written all around me.

9.     It’s also quite refreshing not to have the violent crash and flash of video game noise pulsing out of the movie room. Now I don’t have to remember to not trip on all the chords laying all around the floor. Sooo much safer in there now.

10.  Where before we saw our kids all the time, now we get to decide when we would like to see them. And when we do, all we have to do is hop in the car and drive 7 hours to see Kaitlin and Jon and a mere 9 and a half to see Patrick. That way, we will arrive fresh and rested and truly enjoy our two days together before we have to drive 7 and 9 and a half hours back…to our quiet, clean, nearly abandoned-looking house.

Yes, the empty nest is…great.

PC rules

The good news is, Harry Reid’s job is safe. Because he’s a Democrat, his career will survive.

While speaking to an Asian group the other day the Senate Majority leader threw out this gem: “One problem I’ve had today is keeping my Wongs straight.”

This is the same Harry Reid who referred to then candidate Barack Obama as that “light-skinned African American with no negro dialect.”

And yet…Harry Reid hasn’t been shamed into retirement by the PC police. He hasn’t been forced to endure a crying mea culpa with Oprah. He has the political equivalent of a get out of jail free card, a capital D next to his name.

After word of his ill-chosen words leaked out, the complete text of his “apology” is as follows: “My comments were in extremely poor taste and I apologize. Sometimes I say the Wong thing.”

Oh, wait, my bad. That should be wrong thing…sometimes I say the wrong thing.

Put Your Name On It!!

Plato once asked the question, if people were granted invisibility would they behave more or less morally? In other words, does anonymity make us better or worse, more honest or less honest, better people or worse people? The fact that Plato even asked this question brings into doubt his reputation for intelligence. History is littered with overwhelming evidence that when human beings are granted anonymity, they become capable of practically anything. Without the judging eyes of our peers we become mean, hateful, brutish thugs for the most part. Need proof? Visit the message boards of your favorite social media site when the subject of race pops up.

My Mother never went to college. She never sat around eating pizza and ruminating on philosophy all night in a dorm. But that’s not to say that she didn’t have a philosophy, or at least philosophical insights. One of them was, “You’re only as good of a person as you are when nobody’s looking.” Mom used to hate it when people would only do their “good works” to the sound of trumpets. She would get all “up in the pictures” talking about the vanity of men and women who could only be counted on to do something decent when there was an audience.

But there is another side to this anonymity business. Yes, people do act artificially better in public but that redounds to the public good. Hypocritical good deeds are still good deeds. But anonymity gives the darkness of our character an outlet. When my Dad was the Pastor of Winns Baptist Church back in the 1970’s, the majority of the members were good people, honest, hard-working, salt of the earth types. But when you spend 16 years in the pulpit of a church, you will make your share of mistakes and Dad was no exception to that rule. When he did, he got called on the carpet usually face to face with someone who had taken exception to something he had said or done. But by far the worst treatment he ever got came in the form of the anonymous letter. Always typed, always without a return address, these screeds would attack him with ruthless vitriol and...unspeakably bad grammar.

With the advent of the Internet, anonymous communication is everywhere and most of it is poisoning us and our discourse. To read comments that people make about race, sexual orientation, and religion behind the cloak of anonymity is to peer into the dark night of the soul. Dad’s hate mail at least took some degree of forethought and planning. They had to get a piece of paper, find a typewriter, address an envelope, lick a stamp, and walk to the mailbox, all activities that allowed time to think things over before actually sending it. Today, anyone can spew forth the vilest thing and broadcast it instantaneously without filter. Technological advancements in communication have not made us better communicators. It has granted us a license for cruelty.

The readers of this blog don’t always agree with everything I write. But my name and my reputation is attached to everything you read. Consequently, I must exercise temperance. Some of the stuff floating around in my head needs to stay there, because to give them voice would be hurtful. So here’s my proposal of the day, how about instead of censoring the Internet, we insist on disclosure.

Put your name on it.

The Earned Income Puppy Credit

My search for a Golden Retriever puppy has been about as productive as a trip to the DMV. Buying illegal drugs would be easier than finding a purchasable puppy. There are waiting lists involved, not to mention down payments and background checks to be endured. I’ve seen prices ranging anywhere from $800 to $1800….for a dog.

Funny thing happens when you’re shopping for a dog. When you see this type of price range, you start turning your nose up at the $800 puppies. You wonder what is wrong with them that they are so cheap. Do you really want to purchase a dog from the bargain bin? This is capitalism at work at its notorious best. How much should a dog be worth? The answer is and always will be in a free economy, what the market will bear. Am I willing to pay $1800 for the perfect Golden that I can get at the perfect time? The answer is…yes. Is $1800 outrageous for a puppy? No, if someone if willing to pay. Would I or anyone out there be willing to pay $1800 for a flea-bitten, tick-infested Basset hound? Probably not.

Like everything else in life that I have wanted, it’s not that things are too expensive, the problem has always been that I can’t afford them. Luckily, this has given me sufficient motivation to change that equation. I can either rage against the high price of Golden Retrievers or make more money. Since I have no control over the price of the product, I must change what I do have control over…my income.

Of course, there is another option open to me. I could try and get the government involved. Why should only the 1% be able to afford Golden Retrievers? Does not the Declaration of Independence speak of the “pursuit of happiness?” I can’t think of anything that provides more happiness than a puppy. First, I would have to hire some high priced lobbyist. Then I could get some intrepid reporter from the NYT to write an expose on dog breeders and tag them with a sinister label, “Big Puppy.” Soon the headlines would read…Big Puppy Lands in Regulatory Doghouse. Then legislation would be submitted to impose strict price controls on dogs. Perhaps a tax-credit for low income families who buy a dog, a modification of the Earned Income Tax Credit. Sure, there might be a few negative consequences to these new laws, namely the creation of a black market. “Psssst…wanna buy a puppy? I know a guy who could hook you up.” Of course, if the past is any teacher, ultimately a shortage of Golden Retrievers would result, making them even more expensive, but in order to make an omelet, you’ve got to break a few eggs. Besides, it would be the intentions of the legislation that mattered, not the results.

I hope nobody in Washington is reading this.