Don’t think, for a skinny minute, this is an easy job. Writing politics is war. It’s dangerous out here, what with bullets flying, incoming mortar rounds and all. I lost my flak jacket and helmet the other day and had to low-crawl to my computer. With my youngest grandbaby on my hip. But I did it. I’m one tough woman, willing to go where few men are brave enough to…
Okay, okay. Maybe no one was shooting at me. I misspoke. Just Like Hillary.
She thrilled us all with her wild Bosnian tale, her near-miss as First Lady, landing at the airport in Tuzla, her plane having taken evasive maneuvers to avoid being shot down…then her mad dash across the tarmac, hunkered down and dodging bullets every step of the way. You don’t forget a near-death experience like that one This was a time, Hillary told us, that a trip was “too dangerous for the president”, so they sent her instead. This is one woman who’s ready to take command and, like John McCain, she’s taken hostile fire and lived to tell about it. Barack Obama? Shoot! (No pun intended.) All he’s got going for him is a fine mind, the capacity to engage ordinary people in the political process and some good ideas about civility in politics and humane governance. Nothing heroic about that. What we need is a macho/hero type, and Hillary Rodham Clinton qualifies.
If only it had been a true story. Turns out there was no danger involved. Hillary landed quite nicely in Tuzla with teen-aged daughter Chelsea in tow. They enjoyed a sweet little ceremony there after deplaning, Bosnian children on hand to welcome the First Lady and First Daughter with hugs and kisses.
Caught in telling a whopper, Ms Clinton took the typical politician’s way out. “I misspoke,” she said. “I was sleep-deprived…I’m human…”
Really? She did not “misspeak” about running the gunfire gauntlet in Tuzla. Saying “I misspoke” implies a little slip of the tongue. A tiny lapse, like “I’m sure bought milk on Monday—no, make that Tuesday.” She says she was sleep-deprived? I don’t care how much sleep you’ve lost, you don’t mistake hugging a Bosnian child on the tarmac with dodging bullets. She lied. She told a deliberate, fabricated story to get a leg-up in a faltering campaign for the Democratic nomination.
In doing so, she has betrayed every one of us who have argued for a woman in the White House. Worse, she’s made more than a few American mothers furious. A good mama—a smart mama—does not take her child along on a trip “too dangerous for [Daddy] to make.” If that’s not lousy judgment, I don’t know what is.
We women expect better than this from one of our own. We don’t want just any woman in the White House, we want one who represents the best of what a woman has to offer—and that’s plenty. We want feminist principles in a campaign and in the Oval Office. If we have to vote for a man to get them, we will.
By Linda Hansen
Showing posts with label Linda Hansen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linda Hansen. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
The wages of war? No sweat
Houston, we have a problem.
And Dubya has finally owned up to it. The economy is not so good, folks. We’re making less money, paying more for everything from soup to gas, Wall Street has the flu and folks all over the country are losing their homes.
In an interview with NBC, George W. denied there is any connection between the Iraq War and the faltering economy. Zero. Zip. Nada. We can afford our little war — shoot! — it’s only costing us somewhere between $2-3 billion a week. That’s not so bad, is it? At that rate we’re only paying $432 million a day. $18 million an hour. For a country as rich as we are, that’s practically pocket change.
When confronted with the cost of the war, Dubya grins that sweet, wacky grin of his, cocks his knotty little head and says, “I think actually the spending in the war might help with jobs...because we’re buying equipment...and people are working...” Which begs the question: “Huh?” Anyone you know made any war equipment lately? Opened a war equipment shop on Main Street? Own a piece of Halliburton?
No matter. Dubya has it all figured out. “I think the economy is down,” he says, “because we built too many houses...” The failing economy, he goes on, is only “adjusting” to all those houses we built. Silly us. This from the president who said “Thanks to our policies, home ownership in America is at an all time high.” (September, 2004) and “We’re creating...an ownership society in this country, where more Americans than ever will be able to open their door where they live and say ‘Welcome to my house, welcome to my piece of property.’” (October, 2004) It’s enough to make you misty-eyed, ain’t it?
A Bush spokesman said that long after folks (like us) forget all about Baghdad and Abu Ghraib, this president’s legacy will be the Great Ownership Society. George W. is, after all, the architect of the Home Buying Surge in America. He does enjoy a good surge. How did he do it? Well, one way was to push the “easy home ownership” doctrine. Bush urged the private sector to “unlock millions of dollars” for the purchase of homes. He wanted poor folks to have homes, too. And that’s a grand idea. Let’s go after ‘em. But his “easy” way was the free market, who-needs-regulations-when-there’s-quick-money-to-be-made method, and predatory lenders of all stripes came out of the woodwork, advertised to a fare-thee-well,and lured folks with little money to buy bigger and better houses than they’d ever dreamed possible — because the easy money’s right here for ya! These scam artists fast-talked right past the poor folks’ subprime pitfall featuring mortgage payments that could double or triple over time. So folks who could just barely afford the payments on the houses they bought found themselves stuck with payments they couldn’t possibly afford later on. Imagine buying in at, say, $800 a month. Say you keep the same job (remember, wages aren’t going up by much) and, two years later, your payment is $1,600. Three years later? $2,400. You’re in foreclosure before you can say “Honey, find me the phone number of that fella we borrowed from — ”
If you do try to find that fella, well, it won’t help, because your home loan has been sold and resold to so many mortgage companies you can’t find it to save your life. Or your house. And it’s your fault the economy is going belly-up.
Ask Dubya. The $18 million an hour occupation of Iraq has nothing to do with it.
By Linda Hansen
And Dubya has finally owned up to it. The economy is not so good, folks. We’re making less money, paying more for everything from soup to gas, Wall Street has the flu and folks all over the country are losing their homes.
In an interview with NBC, George W. denied there is any connection between the Iraq War and the faltering economy. Zero. Zip. Nada. We can afford our little war — shoot! — it’s only costing us somewhere between $2-3 billion a week. That’s not so bad, is it? At that rate we’re only paying $432 million a day. $18 million an hour. For a country as rich as we are, that’s practically pocket change.
When confronted with the cost of the war, Dubya grins that sweet, wacky grin of his, cocks his knotty little head and says, “I think actually the spending in the war might help with jobs...because we’re buying equipment...and people are working...” Which begs the question: “Huh?” Anyone you know made any war equipment lately? Opened a war equipment shop on Main Street? Own a piece of Halliburton?
No matter. Dubya has it all figured out. “I think the economy is down,” he says, “because we built too many houses...” The failing economy, he goes on, is only “adjusting” to all those houses we built. Silly us. This from the president who said “Thanks to our policies, home ownership in America is at an all time high.” (September, 2004) and “We’re creating...an ownership society in this country, where more Americans than ever will be able to open their door where they live and say ‘Welcome to my house, welcome to my piece of property.’” (October, 2004) It’s enough to make you misty-eyed, ain’t it?
A Bush spokesman said that long after folks (like us) forget all about Baghdad and Abu Ghraib, this president’s legacy will be the Great Ownership Society. George W. is, after all, the architect of the Home Buying Surge in America. He does enjoy a good surge. How did he do it? Well, one way was to push the “easy home ownership” doctrine. Bush urged the private sector to “unlock millions of dollars” for the purchase of homes. He wanted poor folks to have homes, too. And that’s a grand idea. Let’s go after ‘em. But his “easy” way was the free market, who-needs-regulations-when-there’s-quick-money-to-be-made method, and predatory lenders of all stripes came out of the woodwork, advertised to a fare-thee-well,and lured folks with little money to buy bigger and better houses than they’d ever dreamed possible — because the easy money’s right here for ya! These scam artists fast-talked right past the poor folks’ subprime pitfall featuring mortgage payments that could double or triple over time. So folks who could just barely afford the payments on the houses they bought found themselves stuck with payments they couldn’t possibly afford later on. Imagine buying in at, say, $800 a month. Say you keep the same job (remember, wages aren’t going up by much) and, two years later, your payment is $1,600. Three years later? $2,400. You’re in foreclosure before you can say “Honey, find me the phone number of that fella we borrowed from — ”
If you do try to find that fella, well, it won’t help, because your home loan has been sold and resold to so many mortgage companies you can’t find it to save your life. Or your house. And it’s your fault the economy is going belly-up.
Ask Dubya. The $18 million an hour occupation of Iraq has nothing to do with it.
By Linda Hansen
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The House that John Built
What person, with a heart and a Bible, doesn’t love the story of John Edwards’ rise from a dirt poor South Carolina mill worker’s kid to a brilliant career as a lawyer who battled big business and the health care/insurance industry on behalf of ordinary Americans like you and me? Who wouldn’t celebrate the success, socially, financially and politically, of such a Southerner; one who fought his way out of poverty? One who became a U.S. senator and a candidate for president?
And who among us (the big heart and Bible folks) is too hard, too selfish, to resist Edwards’ populist message? His passion for the poor, for the powerless? His whole life’s work, he tells us, is--and always has been--a fight for America’s poor. This battle, he says, is personal. He will raise up, from the depths, this nation’s needy like the wreckage of the Titanic. It’s a Herculean task he embraces because the poor are always with him. They are always foremost in his heart, in his mind.
You’ve got to love that message. For the unabashed bleeding heart liberal like me, his words resonate like a rare symphony. He can move me to tears.
But there’s something wrong with this melody. There’s a flat note running through the music. Something’s off.
It wasn’t the four hundred dollar haircut. That was easy enough to dismiss as a non-issue. If he wants to pay that kind of money to be well-coiffed, it’s his business. In this world you gotta look the part.
But John Edwards’ new home in North Carolina is another story. This populist with a heart of gold and a passion for poor folks built himself a 21,000 square foot mansion. Twenty one thousand square feet for two adults and two children still living at home. How much room do four people need to roam around in? How much does it cost to heat and air condition that thing? How much energy does it waste? When is so much personal wealth squandered for luxury morally offensive? How many Habitat houses could have been built with the excess cash if, say, the Edwards’ had opted for 5,000 square feet of opulence and invested the rest of that money in the battle for decent low income housing? How many bright poor kids could have been educated, lifted out of poverty permanently, with that kind of cash?
And that takes us back to the haircut, which becomes a bit of an issue after all. If Edwards needs his style maintained every two weeks at that price, he spends $800 a month on his hair. $9,600 a year for trims and blow-dries.
There is a dissonance here; a disconnect between the populist melody and the reality of the composer’s lifestyle. If the poor are always with him, if his avowed mission in life is the plight of those powerless, disenfranchised, needy folks ... how does he justify personal priorities which allow for selfish, excessive, conspicuous consumption in the face of such need? What’s the real message in such a life? What he says or what he does?
Voters need to give serious thought to the issue of a man’s personal priorities before going to the polls. This is the house that John built. Come primary day, I reckon he ought to have to live with it.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
And who among us (the big heart and Bible folks) is too hard, too selfish, to resist Edwards’ populist message? His passion for the poor, for the powerless? His whole life’s work, he tells us, is--and always has been--a fight for America’s poor. This battle, he says, is personal. He will raise up, from the depths, this nation’s needy like the wreckage of the Titanic. It’s a Herculean task he embraces because the poor are always with him. They are always foremost in his heart, in his mind.
You’ve got to love that message. For the unabashed bleeding heart liberal like me, his words resonate like a rare symphony. He can move me to tears.
But there’s something wrong with this melody. There’s a flat note running through the music. Something’s off.
It wasn’t the four hundred dollar haircut. That was easy enough to dismiss as a non-issue. If he wants to pay that kind of money to be well-coiffed, it’s his business. In this world you gotta look the part.
But John Edwards’ new home in North Carolina is another story. This populist with a heart of gold and a passion for poor folks built himself a 21,000 square foot mansion. Twenty one thousand square feet for two adults and two children still living at home. How much room do four people need to roam around in? How much does it cost to heat and air condition that thing? How much energy does it waste? When is so much personal wealth squandered for luxury morally offensive? How many Habitat houses could have been built with the excess cash if, say, the Edwards’ had opted for 5,000 square feet of opulence and invested the rest of that money in the battle for decent low income housing? How many bright poor kids could have been educated, lifted out of poverty permanently, with that kind of cash?
And that takes us back to the haircut, which becomes a bit of an issue after all. If Edwards needs his style maintained every two weeks at that price, he spends $800 a month on his hair. $9,600 a year for trims and blow-dries.
There is a dissonance here; a disconnect between the populist melody and the reality of the composer’s lifestyle. If the poor are always with him, if his avowed mission in life is the plight of those powerless, disenfranchised, needy folks ... how does he justify personal priorities which allow for selfish, excessive, conspicuous consumption in the face of such need? What’s the real message in such a life? What he says or what he does?
Voters need to give serious thought to the issue of a man’s personal priorities before going to the polls. This is the house that John built. Come primary day, I reckon he ought to have to live with it.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Thursday, January 17, 2008
South Carolina and the Audacity of Hope?
“...I’ll tell you who I’m voting for. I’m voting for Hillary Clinton. We need to get Bill Clinton back in the White House. Barack Obama’s a fine young man but he [has] no business running for president...No way is any black man getting elected president in the United States of America--not in my lifetime and not in yours! If he gets elected there’ll be rioting in the streets the likes of which [you’ve] never seen. And they’ll kill him. They’ll kill him.”
— October, 2007, a 67 year old Pageland African American voter
The Obama campaign has been nothing if not a phenomenal movement. I’ve been following Barack since he declared for president in February 2007, covering events, interviewing voters. The bulk of Obama’s support, early on, was very white and very liberal; idealists who were against the war in Iraq, worried about health care, education, poverty and a toxic political climate where Republicans hated Democrats, Democrats hated Republicans. The senator from Illinois had a record of bridging the great divide and getting things done during his tenure as a Democrat in the Illinois legislature. Conservatives liked him. Independents liked him. His message of open communication, of both sides listening to each other and working together for the common good resonated with folks who wanted peace — in D.C. as well as in the Middle East.
He was the long-shot of all time. Broad support in the African American community was hard to come by; they feared for his safety, the Clinton mystique was strong and there was little faith in the electability of Barack Obama. White America could not be trusted to back a black candidate for president. But the Obama movement took hold. Massive volunteer support nationwide grew in size and in commitment. “Impossible” became “Maybe” as crowds at Obama events numbered in the enthusiastic thousands again and again.
Then came the Iowa caucuses and a predominantly white state said Yes to the Audacity of Hope. The notion that “White folks won’t vote for and African American” was blown away. Even here, in South Carolina, where the Clinton candidacy was seen as an impassable juggernaut, the momentum shifted.
In a WCSC (CBS, Charleston)/Survey USA poll of 3000 likely voters statewide on the eve of the New Hampshire primary, Barack Obama won 50% of the vote to Hillary Clinton’s 30%. A twenty point spread. Edwards trailed with 16%.
South Carolina, home of the Dixiecrats and Jim Crow, regarded as a racist haven by much of the nation, was poised to make history. New Hampshire, where Obama was behind Clinton in double digits only a few weeks ago, was suddenly in play. Media hyped a major upset: Obama by a wide enough margin to cripple the Clinton campaign. The mainstream media set the stage and prevailing wisdom was that, if Barack didn’t beat Clinton by at least ten points, well...maybe she was inevitable after all. He lost, in what was very nearly a statistical tie, by 2.6 points. He did tie HRC in winning NH delegates. He won nine, she won nine. He is, as the campaigns move on to Nevada and South Carolina, ahead of Hillary Clinton by one delegate. On Jan. 26 it’s our turn. Does a very slim majority of New Hampshire voters dictate the outcome here? Does support wane because another largely “white” state wasn’t a clear, commanding win for the African American candidate? Does race matter more than intelligence and humane governance? Does gender matter in “toughness”? Do we want a whole new approach in Washington or do we want to reprise the Clinton administration?
Joe Biden predicted that the next Democratic nominee for president would be determined in South Carolina. It seems we matter now, and that’s uncharted territory for us. It’s pretty potent, folks. Who are we South Carolina Democrats anyway? What do we believe in? How courageous are we willing to be on Jan. 26, 2008?
By Linda Hansen, columnist
— October, 2007, a 67 year old Pageland African American voter
The Obama campaign has been nothing if not a phenomenal movement. I’ve been following Barack since he declared for president in February 2007, covering events, interviewing voters. The bulk of Obama’s support, early on, was very white and very liberal; idealists who were against the war in Iraq, worried about health care, education, poverty and a toxic political climate where Republicans hated Democrats, Democrats hated Republicans. The senator from Illinois had a record of bridging the great divide and getting things done during his tenure as a Democrat in the Illinois legislature. Conservatives liked him. Independents liked him. His message of open communication, of both sides listening to each other and working together for the common good resonated with folks who wanted peace — in D.C. as well as in the Middle East.
He was the long-shot of all time. Broad support in the African American community was hard to come by; they feared for his safety, the Clinton mystique was strong and there was little faith in the electability of Barack Obama. White America could not be trusted to back a black candidate for president. But the Obama movement took hold. Massive volunteer support nationwide grew in size and in commitment. “Impossible” became “Maybe” as crowds at Obama events numbered in the enthusiastic thousands again and again.
Then came the Iowa caucuses and a predominantly white state said Yes to the Audacity of Hope. The notion that “White folks won’t vote for and African American” was blown away. Even here, in South Carolina, where the Clinton candidacy was seen as an impassable juggernaut, the momentum shifted.
In a WCSC (CBS, Charleston)/Survey USA poll of 3000 likely voters statewide on the eve of the New Hampshire primary, Barack Obama won 50% of the vote to Hillary Clinton’s 30%. A twenty point spread. Edwards trailed with 16%.
South Carolina, home of the Dixiecrats and Jim Crow, regarded as a racist haven by much of the nation, was poised to make history. New Hampshire, where Obama was behind Clinton in double digits only a few weeks ago, was suddenly in play. Media hyped a major upset: Obama by a wide enough margin to cripple the Clinton campaign. The mainstream media set the stage and prevailing wisdom was that, if Barack didn’t beat Clinton by at least ten points, well...maybe she was inevitable after all. He lost, in what was very nearly a statistical tie, by 2.6 points. He did tie HRC in winning NH delegates. He won nine, she won nine. He is, as the campaigns move on to Nevada and South Carolina, ahead of Hillary Clinton by one delegate. On Jan. 26 it’s our turn. Does a very slim majority of New Hampshire voters dictate the outcome here? Does support wane because another largely “white” state wasn’t a clear, commanding win for the African American candidate? Does race matter more than intelligence and humane governance? Does gender matter in “toughness”? Do we want a whole new approach in Washington or do we want to reprise the Clinton administration?
Joe Biden predicted that the next Democratic nominee for president would be determined in South Carolina. It seems we matter now, and that’s uncharted territory for us. It’s pretty potent, folks. Who are we South Carolina Democrats anyway? What do we believe in? How courageous are we willing to be on Jan. 26, 2008?
By Linda Hansen, columnist
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Bugged by a Ron Paul supporter
An average day in my home office begins with a flood of messages. Sixty or more of them, all politics. My inbox is rarely empty and most of the incoming messages demand attention I’m not willing to give them. Folks want me to know who they’re supporting for president in ‘08, who they love, who they loathe. And why. And why don’t I write something nice about their guy, anyway? The delete key is my favorite computer option.
Recently, one message really got me. It’s been bugging me ever since. A young Ron Paul enthusiast sent me The Modern Day Ant and Grasshopper. You know, that old fable about the industrious ant who works all summer long (no vacation for him!) getting his house ready, stocking it with food for a long, hard winter. The grasshopper, who thinks the ant is a fool, spends his summer drinking and dancing. Winter comes. The ant is warm and cozy and well-fed. The shiftless grasshopper, without food or shelter, dies in the cold. Moral of the story? “Be responsible for yourself!”
The modern day version begins the same way. A hardworking ant with foresight and ambition; a lazy, selfish grasshopper who fritters his time away. But this new fable takes a turn. Come winter, the grasshopper calls a press conference to complain that he’s suffering extreme poverty while the ant has plenty — and a BMW. Major news outlets get involved, exposing the plight of poor grasshoppers in America. The public is deeply disturbed when Oprah and Kermit the Frog discuss grasshopper poverty. Every liberal and minority activist in government gets involved, persecuting the ant. He never paid his fair share of taxes, they say. He didn’t hire an equal number of minority green bugs either. He’s fined for that and, because he hasn’t enough money to pay his retroactive tax hike, the government seizes his house.
Naturally, in this fable, the case of the ant and the grasshopper goes before a panel of liberal federal judges appointed by Bill Clinton from a list of single-parent welfare recipients. The ant loses the case and disappears into the snow where, it appears, he dies. Clearly he’s punished for doing all the right things. The grasshopper gets the ant’s house and all his food. Of course the lazy grasshopper abuses the property; the house falls apart and the grasshopper (we all know what they’re like) is killed in a drug-related incident. His abandoned house is taken over by a gang of spiders and there goes the neighborhood.
It’s a simplistic little tale and the moral is clear: Poor folks are poor because they’re all lazy substance abusers. All of them. No exceptions. They get exactly what they deserve and the rest of us owe them nothing. The American Way, according to Ron Paul and his admirers, is endangered by taxes and social programs for the underprivileged. Give a grasshopper an inch and he’ll take your house and all your food, leaving you to starve in the snow. It’s the Darwinian principle at work; the survival of the fittest--and the richest--is the new American Dream.
How sad. How frightening that decent people fall for a brutal, shallow coda and see, in an inane, prejudicial rewrite of an old fable, a new perfected truth. The have-nots are simply bad bugs. Good bugs, like you and me, aren’t responsible for the least of these bugs. Step over ‘em. Step on ‘em. They’ve got it coming.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Recently, one message really got me. It’s been bugging me ever since. A young Ron Paul enthusiast sent me The Modern Day Ant and Grasshopper. You know, that old fable about the industrious ant who works all summer long (no vacation for him!) getting his house ready, stocking it with food for a long, hard winter. The grasshopper, who thinks the ant is a fool, spends his summer drinking and dancing. Winter comes. The ant is warm and cozy and well-fed. The shiftless grasshopper, without food or shelter, dies in the cold. Moral of the story? “Be responsible for yourself!”
The modern day version begins the same way. A hardworking ant with foresight and ambition; a lazy, selfish grasshopper who fritters his time away. But this new fable takes a turn. Come winter, the grasshopper calls a press conference to complain that he’s suffering extreme poverty while the ant has plenty — and a BMW. Major news outlets get involved, exposing the plight of poor grasshoppers in America. The public is deeply disturbed when Oprah and Kermit the Frog discuss grasshopper poverty. Every liberal and minority activist in government gets involved, persecuting the ant. He never paid his fair share of taxes, they say. He didn’t hire an equal number of minority green bugs either. He’s fined for that and, because he hasn’t enough money to pay his retroactive tax hike, the government seizes his house.
Naturally, in this fable, the case of the ant and the grasshopper goes before a panel of liberal federal judges appointed by Bill Clinton from a list of single-parent welfare recipients. The ant loses the case and disappears into the snow where, it appears, he dies. Clearly he’s punished for doing all the right things. The grasshopper gets the ant’s house and all his food. Of course the lazy grasshopper abuses the property; the house falls apart and the grasshopper (we all know what they’re like) is killed in a drug-related incident. His abandoned house is taken over by a gang of spiders and there goes the neighborhood.
It’s a simplistic little tale and the moral is clear: Poor folks are poor because they’re all lazy substance abusers. All of them. No exceptions. They get exactly what they deserve and the rest of us owe them nothing. The American Way, according to Ron Paul and his admirers, is endangered by taxes and social programs for the underprivileged. Give a grasshopper an inch and he’ll take your house and all your food, leaving you to starve in the snow. It’s the Darwinian principle at work; the survival of the fittest--and the richest--is the new American Dream.
How sad. How frightening that decent people fall for a brutal, shallow coda and see, in an inane, prejudicial rewrite of an old fable, a new perfected truth. The have-nots are simply bad bugs. Good bugs, like you and me, aren’t responsible for the least of these bugs. Step over ‘em. Step on ‘em. They’ve got it coming.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Friday, December 28, 2007
Happy ‘Holidays’ from Bill O’Reilly?
Bright lights, parades, Santa, creches with sweet little baby Jesus smiling up at his adoring mother. Giggling children, wild with anticipation. It’s that wonderful time of the year--or it ought to be.
For some of us the dreaded War on Christmas goes on. It’s getting to be sort of like the other one--the Iraq quagmire we love to hate--we just can’t seem to find a way out of it. Faux News’ Bill O’Reilly is ready, once again, to make use of his second amendment rights, armed and dangerous and firing away at the Happy Holidays crowd. If you won’t holler “Merry Christmas!” exclusively, you’re the enemy. If you shop the store with a Happy Holidays banner on display, you’re a secular collaborator. Christmas is Christmas, it’s for proper Christians only and you’d better watch what you say about it. The O’Reilly Parsing Posse is on the prowl. Holiday is a no-no. And this is war.
In Australia it appears that a jolly old Santa who can’t control his jolly old laughter and cuts loose with “Ho-ho-ho!” has stepped over the line. In major fashion. He’s offensive to women everywhere with his “Ho” reference. Which three hos is he talking about, anyway? Is he pimping the holiday? Who knew? The jolly old elf is prostituting Christmas. And he’s been getting away with it for years.
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Not much. Seems we’re a world of “Christians” so taken with buying up the shiny stuff--and with declaring war on one another--that we’ve forgotten what the gift of the season really is. It’s non-denominational. It’s the season of love. And maybe the best gifts we ever get aren’t the biggest, shiniest boxes under the tree.
I wrote about a military family last spring, one whose young son was in Iraq on his fifth deployment. He finally came home in July and he is awaiting orders soon for his sixth tour. But his family has had him safe at home for five months now and he will be spending Christmas with them for the first time since the invasion of Iraq. This military family doesn’t care if it’s Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. They’re apt to holler whichever phrase pops into their heads these days. They don’t worry whether or not, to some folks, Santa’s shout-out sounds like “Get Your Jollies With One of These Babes Right Here!”, either.
They’ll attend Christmas Eve services, exchange gifts, laugh, love, hug and eat too much. For this military mom the real war, at least for awhile, is on hold. Her Christmas miracle is celebrating with her son; she’s been praying, since 2003, for a season of peace.
This family’s gift is one my family has been privileged to enjoy with them. I want to share it with all of you. Let’s get all the war and politics out of the way for a few days--both the real, deadly ones and the ridiculous battles over semantics. Let’s let it be what it is, the season of love and of peace.
Happy Holidays, ya’ll. And “Ho-ho-ho!”
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
For some of us the dreaded War on Christmas goes on. It’s getting to be sort of like the other one--the Iraq quagmire we love to hate--we just can’t seem to find a way out of it. Faux News’ Bill O’Reilly is ready, once again, to make use of his second amendment rights, armed and dangerous and firing away at the Happy Holidays crowd. If you won’t holler “Merry Christmas!” exclusively, you’re the enemy. If you shop the store with a Happy Holidays banner on display, you’re a secular collaborator. Christmas is Christmas, it’s for proper Christians only and you’d better watch what you say about it. The O’Reilly Parsing Posse is on the prowl. Holiday is a no-no. And this is war.
In Australia it appears that a jolly old Santa who can’t control his jolly old laughter and cuts loose with “Ho-ho-ho!” has stepped over the line. In major fashion. He’s offensive to women everywhere with his “Ho” reference. Which three hos is he talking about, anyway? Is he pimping the holiday? Who knew? The jolly old elf is prostituting Christmas. And he’s been getting away with it for years.
Is nothing sacred anymore?
Not much. Seems we’re a world of “Christians” so taken with buying up the shiny stuff--and with declaring war on one another--that we’ve forgotten what the gift of the season really is. It’s non-denominational. It’s the season of love. And maybe the best gifts we ever get aren’t the biggest, shiniest boxes under the tree.
I wrote about a military family last spring, one whose young son was in Iraq on his fifth deployment. He finally came home in July and he is awaiting orders soon for his sixth tour. But his family has had him safe at home for five months now and he will be spending Christmas with them for the first time since the invasion of Iraq. This military family doesn’t care if it’s Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. They’re apt to holler whichever phrase pops into their heads these days. They don’t worry whether or not, to some folks, Santa’s shout-out sounds like “Get Your Jollies With One of These Babes Right Here!”, either.
They’ll attend Christmas Eve services, exchange gifts, laugh, love, hug and eat too much. For this military mom the real war, at least for awhile, is on hold. Her Christmas miracle is celebrating with her son; she’s been praying, since 2003, for a season of peace.
This family’s gift is one my family has been privileged to enjoy with them. I want to share it with all of you. Let’s get all the war and politics out of the way for a few days--both the real, deadly ones and the ridiculous battles over semantics. Let’s let it be what it is, the season of love and of peace.
Happy Holidays, ya’ll. And “Ho-ho-ho!”
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Dear Hillary, What are you thinking?
How desperate can a few sagging poll numbers make a presidential candidate who tells us she’s not only the toughest, most experienced Democrat in the race, but the smartest?
Apparently desperate enough to drill past the scurrilous innuendo and mine for the rock-bottom ridiculous allegation. If you can’t unearth a 24 carat scandal in Senator Obama’s past, invent one. He “seems to have character issues” you tell us, because his health care plan doesn’t satisfy you. If it’s not your plan, then he must be hiding something really nasty. Oooooh! A character flaw! That’s bad enough strategy, Hillary, but your Kindergate ploy is the mother-lode. Can’t find gold? Try a little brass.
Accusing Obama of harboring some nefarious ambition to take the White House because he wrote an essay in kindergarten? Are you serious? You’re suspicious because a five year old African American child dared pen “I Want to be President When I Grow Up”? That’s a reason for voters to worry about Barack Obama’s character? His moral authenticity? Are all of us vulnerable to attack because of things we said--or wrote--in kindergarten?
When I was that age I told everyone who’d stop long enough to listen that I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a ballerina. And a nun. Both. At the same time. What does that say about my character? That slyly pursuing both careers simultaneously would ensure success when dancing became a habit? Have I lost all credibility as a writer, a mother of three, a protestant? What am I hiding? Am I a liar or a flip-flopper?
Aw, Hill, this kind of campaigning doesn’t look good. If a few polls rattle you this badly, impair your judgment to this degree, what can we expect from you as president? And you tell us there’s more of this attack mode coming? “Now the fun begins,” you say. Will the real Hillary Clinton please stand up?
There was a time you spoke with outrage about a “vast right-wing conspiracy” and “the politics of personal destruction.” You were morally offended by the tactics; you were above all that. Until now. Until the going gets a little tougher than you expected it might be. Extremely unattractive posturing, honey.
A little friendly advice seems to be in order: If you’re really the smart, policy-savvy, experienced, ready-to-hit-the-ground-running-as-first-woman-president you say you are, stick to issues of public policy. For Lord’s sake don’t go bringing the “who’s got the better character” hoo-hah into the mix here. It’ll backfire on you. The questionable morality dilemma is not Barack Obama’s. I know it’s mighty irritating when this uppity young fella’s popular vision for change in governance punches a few holes in your mantle of inevitability, but you’ll never win by playing dirty. Especially if you look ridiculous. And with all that experience of yours, you know a smart politician doesn’t expose her own weakness. It’s not fair, but the prevailing wisdom is those troublesome character issues are your problem, not his. Best to keep that baggage in the closet — where the weight of it doesn’t land in your lap.
Linda Hansen,
columnist
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A Good Race for the GOP Finish Line?
It’s Debatable.
Wednesday, Nov.28. Another GOP debate. I watched. Can’t help myself. It’s rather like going to Darlington or Charlotte for a NASCAR event. I settle in my seat, a drink handy, and wait for the green flag to drop.
What’s so addictive about these debates? Why the NASCAR comparison? It’s the certainty that some super-drivers are going to bump-draft the others, some are going to spin, some are going to blow an engine, some are going to wreck — and maybe take out a few others before they hit the wall.
This race was more remarkable for car trouble than for the big pile-up coming out of the fourth turn on the last lap. Romney, Giuliani and Thompson, running a little loose, got dinged. Paul, Tancredo and Hunter never quite got up to speed — not enough down-force. McCain only qualified as a past champion. Mike Huckabee skillfully avoided contact; no small feat when you consider he drove with one hand while waving happily to fans with the other; he’s mastered the outside groove.
There was a lot of spinning, some of it dangerous. Like when a young Muslim woman from Huntsville, Alabama asked the candidates what they would do to repair our image in the Arab world since the invasion and occupation of Iraq. A caution flag was in order. But Rudy put the pedal to the metal, invoked 9/11 and vowed to continue fighting the war on terror. He isn’t worried about what Islamic terrorists think (and apparently, they are the Arab world). Those are the folks, he says, “we want to offend.” McCain, who loves a fight to the finish, pledged to continue the surge because it’s working, we’re winning, and the troops love it. Duncan Hunter spun the full length of the track: Not only will he fight on, but those folks had better remember how we Americans tend to the world’s needs during disaster and never fail to defend the underdog. Dadgum. We’re darn near perfect and we don’t apologize. To anyone.
Engines sputtered like someone had laced the hi-test octane with water. Rudy sputtered over charges of financial hanky-panky when, as America’s Mayor, he charged New York for trips he made to the Hamptons while cheating on wife #2 with wife #3.
Mitt Romney, however, won the Goody’s Headache Award for poor engine performance.
On whether or not he believes the Bible, verbatim, is the literal word of God: “Absolutely....uh, er — yeah. Um — um — I maybe interpret it differently — um...” On torture: He refused to answer the question, “Is waterboarding torture?” He sputtered, spitting out the “no candidate should tell” national security spiel. McCain bumped him from the rear; it’s a yes or no question, a defining position and military experts in interrogation say it’s torture. Period.
On the issue of gays and lesbians serving in the military: In ‘94, it seems Romney said he looked forward to the day they could serve with honor and dignity. Now he’s against it. When moderator Anderson Cooper reminded him of his prior position, Mitt’s engine misfired so badly his car flip-flopped down the back straightaway.
It wasn’t much of a race. Most of the cars are back in the shop getting realigned, getting engines rebuilt, their carburetors cleaned out. The winner? Mike Huckabee. For surviving without incident.
— Linda Hansen
What’s so addictive about these debates? Why the NASCAR comparison? It’s the certainty that some super-drivers are going to bump-draft the others, some are going to spin, some are going to blow an engine, some are going to wreck — and maybe take out a few others before they hit the wall.
This race was more remarkable for car trouble than for the big pile-up coming out of the fourth turn on the last lap. Romney, Giuliani and Thompson, running a little loose, got dinged. Paul, Tancredo and Hunter never quite got up to speed — not enough down-force. McCain only qualified as a past champion. Mike Huckabee skillfully avoided contact; no small feat when you consider he drove with one hand while waving happily to fans with the other; he’s mastered the outside groove.
There was a lot of spinning, some of it dangerous. Like when a young Muslim woman from Huntsville, Alabama asked the candidates what they would do to repair our image in the Arab world since the invasion and occupation of Iraq. A caution flag was in order. But Rudy put the pedal to the metal, invoked 9/11 and vowed to continue fighting the war on terror. He isn’t worried about what Islamic terrorists think (and apparently, they are the Arab world). Those are the folks, he says, “we want to offend.” McCain, who loves a fight to the finish, pledged to continue the surge because it’s working, we’re winning, and the troops love it. Duncan Hunter spun the full length of the track: Not only will he fight on, but those folks had better remember how we Americans tend to the world’s needs during disaster and never fail to defend the underdog. Dadgum. We’re darn near perfect and we don’t apologize. To anyone.
Engines sputtered like someone had laced the hi-test octane with water. Rudy sputtered over charges of financial hanky-panky when, as America’s Mayor, he charged New York for trips he made to the Hamptons while cheating on wife #2 with wife #3.
Mitt Romney, however, won the Goody’s Headache Award for poor engine performance.
On whether or not he believes the Bible, verbatim, is the literal word of God: “Absolutely....uh, er — yeah. Um — um — I maybe interpret it differently — um...” On torture: He refused to answer the question, “Is waterboarding torture?” He sputtered, spitting out the “no candidate should tell” national security spiel. McCain bumped him from the rear; it’s a yes or no question, a defining position and military experts in interrogation say it’s torture. Period.
On the issue of gays and lesbians serving in the military: In ‘94, it seems Romney said he looked forward to the day they could serve with honor and dignity. Now he’s against it. When moderator Anderson Cooper reminded him of his prior position, Mitt’s engine misfired so badly his car flip-flopped down the back straightaway.
It wasn’t much of a race. Most of the cars are back in the shop getting realigned, getting engines rebuilt, their carburetors cleaned out. The winner? Mike Huckabee. For surviving without incident.
— Linda Hansen
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Half-truth, the Untruth and Consequences
“I would never vote for Barack Obama. Never. He’s a Muslim!” He won’t put his hand over his heart for the National Anthem. He won’t wear a flag pin, either.
Yeah ... and according to another deliberate smear campaign, one waged by the Bush camp in 2000, John McCain had “fathered an illegitimate black child...” Who’d vote for a guy with the morals of an alley cat?
The “whisper campaign”, the rumor mill, cranking out lies or distortions based on “partial truth” sure gets the job done. After beating Dubya soundly in the 2000 New Hampshire primary, John McCain lost, big time, in South Carolina when the Bush campaign turned dirty and deceptive. John and Cindy McCain had adopted a little girl from Bangladesh. She was black. Since she was orphaned, she might have been illegitimate. So, if your aim was to ruin the guy, you could twist the truth, say he’d fathered an illegitimate black child and tell yourself it really wasn’t exactly a lie. It’s politics, after all. The public, while swearing we’re sick of dirty campaign tactics, swallows the filth and forgets it.The 2008 version of the “black bastard” story is “Obama the terrorist.” He must be one. His name is strange, he’s not white, he went to elementary school in Indonesia for a few years. And his daddy was Muslim. Really.
The truth, for what it’s worth (and that’s not much during campaign season) is this: Senator Obama’s father was born and raised in Kenya--where most everyone is Muslim. Sort of like most everyone here is Baptist. He was not a faithful, practicing Muslim, nor was he a significant figure in Obama’s life. Like too many red, white and blue American dads, he walked out on his wife and child.
Barack Obama is an active, practicing Christian. He’s been a member of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago for about 20 years.
Does he wear a flag pin? No. He stopped wearing one when it became clear that Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al, took great care to sport their patriotism in miniature while lying to the public about the war in Iraq, refusing to pursue a new course to end the war while more and more American troops were maimed and killed. Obama made a statement: Lapel pins are a poor measure of either love of country or support for our troops.
Yeah, there’s a photo of Senator Obama, standing erect for the anthem, with his hands at his side. There are dozens of others in which his right hand is placed squarely over his heart. I’ve seen one of George W. Bush with his right hand on his belly during the anthem. Disrespect? Indigestion? Lousy aim? Does it matter?
One last thing. About John McCain, who suffered a devastating smear campaign right here in South Carolina: Dubya, Rove and Reed fingered the wrong perp for fathering an illegitimate black child. It wasn’t McCain. It was Strom Thurmond, who fathered a child with his family’s black maid in 1925. Given the oppression of African Americans back then, I doubt she had much choice in the matter. Thurmond never acknowledged Essie Mae Washington-Williams, although he did secretly contribute to her support while she was growing up--that would have been about the time he was running for president. As a segregationist.
By Linda Hansen, columnist
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Any little (South Carolina) boy can be president? Not a chance.
Native son Steven Colbert is a gone goslin’. South Carolina Dems couldn’t get his name off the primary ballot fast enough. In a 13-3 vote, the Democratic Executive Council rejected a Colbert candidacy. The repercussions — for the South Carolina Democratic Party in general and the Obama campaign in particular — are right tawdry.
Online howling commenced with a bang bigger that the first shot fired in the Civil War which, for those of you who don’t know your history, was fired by South Carolinians. Political bloggers and commenters alike are on us like white in rice. Clearly, South Carolina Democrats are not really, well, democratic. Obama supporters are at fault, the power behind the Democratic/democratic lapse. It’s tacky bidness down here in Dixie.
Inez Tenenbaum, former superintendent of education and a member of the Obama camp, lobbied to get Colbert’s name off the ballot. She said she could not imagine Iowa or New Hampshire “letting a comedian on the ballot.” And we sure do want to be like those folks. Don Fowler, longtime S.C. pol and former chairman of the DNC, maintains that, while there was some concern among Obama supporters about losses in the young voter demographic, it was not the reason he opposed a Colbert candidacy. He compared Colbert to Nader in 2000; a bit of a stretch, if you ask me.
Here’s the truth as we Palmetto State liberals see it: Barack Obama had nothing to do with this. Fowler hit the Confederate nail on the head when he said “[South Carolina] would be the laughingstock of America.” Council member Lumus Byrd, who voted in favor of Colbert, said we would be exposed to ridicule. All the things we don’t like aired in public — the wrong flag flying in all the wrong places, lousy schools, our dicey racial history — would be fodder for Comedy Central and the nation. For a South Carolinian with identity issues (and we sure, Lord, have ‘em), a Colbert candidacy is anything but Comic Relief. We’ve got problems enough down here. Politics is only funny after prime time. Late at night. On cable. We Southern liberals dose up on Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert and Bill Maher like public policy Prozac. They keep us from imploding.
It’s not fair to blast S.C. Democrats for political hanky-panky. What we’re guilty of is piss-poor political management. In this state, Republicans are much better at the machinations of slate-building. They have a built-in filter for ensuring their candidates are worthy: It costs $25 thousand to get your name on their primary ballot in the first quarter. By the time Colbert threw his clown hat in the ring the Repub filing fee was a cool 35 grand. It takes some serious bucks to run as a right-winger. Democrats, in true egalitarian fashion, charge about $2,500. Colbert refused to pony up the GOP’s asking price. Too much to pay for a satiric candidacy. He’s a comic — not a total fool.
That left the Left as the sole loser in the event of a Colbert Comeuppance; in a close primary race, a few thousand votes impacts the outcome. Not fair. We’re sick of losing. It makes us right cranky.
Let’s face facts; even if the Right didn’t charge out the wazoo, those guys don’t have the sense of humor God gave a huntin’ dawg. Colbert would be unlikely to cost them any “real” votes. When they vote funny it’s because they’re laughing ... all the way to the Corporate America Military-Industrial Complex National Bank. And that’s the truth(iness).
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Online howling commenced with a bang bigger that the first shot fired in the Civil War which, for those of you who don’t know your history, was fired by South Carolinians. Political bloggers and commenters alike are on us like white in rice. Clearly, South Carolina Democrats are not really, well, democratic. Obama supporters are at fault, the power behind the Democratic/democratic lapse. It’s tacky bidness down here in Dixie.
Inez Tenenbaum, former superintendent of education and a member of the Obama camp, lobbied to get Colbert’s name off the ballot. She said she could not imagine Iowa or New Hampshire “letting a comedian on the ballot.” And we sure do want to be like those folks. Don Fowler, longtime S.C. pol and former chairman of the DNC, maintains that, while there was some concern among Obama supporters about losses in the young voter demographic, it was not the reason he opposed a Colbert candidacy. He compared Colbert to Nader in 2000; a bit of a stretch, if you ask me.
Here’s the truth as we Palmetto State liberals see it: Barack Obama had nothing to do with this. Fowler hit the Confederate nail on the head when he said “[South Carolina] would be the laughingstock of America.” Council member Lumus Byrd, who voted in favor of Colbert, said we would be exposed to ridicule. All the things we don’t like aired in public — the wrong flag flying in all the wrong places, lousy schools, our dicey racial history — would be fodder for Comedy Central and the nation. For a South Carolinian with identity issues (and we sure, Lord, have ‘em), a Colbert candidacy is anything but Comic Relief. We’ve got problems enough down here. Politics is only funny after prime time. Late at night. On cable. We Southern liberals dose up on Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert and Bill Maher like public policy Prozac. They keep us from imploding.
It’s not fair to blast S.C. Democrats for political hanky-panky. What we’re guilty of is piss-poor political management. In this state, Republicans are much better at the machinations of slate-building. They have a built-in filter for ensuring their candidates are worthy: It costs $25 thousand to get your name on their primary ballot in the first quarter. By the time Colbert threw his clown hat in the ring the Repub filing fee was a cool 35 grand. It takes some serious bucks to run as a right-winger. Democrats, in true egalitarian fashion, charge about $2,500. Colbert refused to pony up the GOP’s asking price. Too much to pay for a satiric candidacy. He’s a comic — not a total fool.
That left the Left as the sole loser in the event of a Colbert Comeuppance; in a close primary race, a few thousand votes impacts the outcome. Not fair. We’re sick of losing. It makes us right cranky.
Let’s face facts; even if the Right didn’t charge out the wazoo, those guys don’t have the sense of humor God gave a huntin’ dawg. Colbert would be unlikely to cost them any “real” votes. When they vote funny it’s because they’re laughing ... all the way to the Corporate America Military-Industrial Complex National Bank. And that’s the truth(iness).
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Patriots' Lapel Pin Battle:
Fighting the Good Fight
Only in 21st century America, land of the soft, spoiled armchair warrior...
We've been bogged down in a war with and occupation of Iraq for nearly five years now but, unlike, say, WW II, this nation is not fully engaged. Far from it. We sacrifice nothing. No rationing of sugar or gasoline, no maps on our walls with pins marking the front, no families gathering around the radio every evening for war news.
While 1% of the population--the military and their families--bear the entire bloody burden of the real war, the other 99% of us are busy Shopping for Freedom. And we've had our own tidy little battle making headlines lately: Partisans declaring war on Barack Obama for failing to sport the tiny American flag pin that is surely the measure of both patriotism and fitness for office. No red, white and blue lapel pin, no support for our troops. To his credit, Mike Huckabee says it's a non-issue. He doesn't fly the flag on his suit all the time either. His patriotism, however, is unchallenged.
As the Lapel Pin War raged in the media and good Americans fired off rounds of deadly condemnation, a military family in the Midwest spent every ounce of energy they had cramming in as much happy time as possible while their loved one, a veteran of fourteen years in the military, was home from his fifth tour in Iraq. He expects orders for his sixth deployment very soon. He's spent the bulk of his late twenties and early thirties at war. His family has spent those same years living in fear.
This proud military family will not be voting Republican in 2008. They like Barack Obama. Unless something changes between now and primary day, they say they'll vote for him. The political banner on their wall might read: "It's the War, Stupid!" Obama's judgment in 2002, when he spoke out against the pending invasion of Iraq as rushing into a "dumb, rash war", one that would leave our troops stuck in a bloody quagmire with no way out, with inconceivable consequences and at unimaginable cost, has proved prescient. They like his plan for phased redeployment. They don't care what trinket adorns his suit coat. Symbolism is a cheap commodity when bullets, RPGs and IEDs are real threats to real soldiers--and one of them is your son, your daughter, your husband, wife, father, mother.
This military family, like too many others, has sacrificed enough. This military mom says, "How many times will [my son] and his comrades be sent back there and how many times can he be sent before the odds catch him? He doesn't deserve this, nor do his troops and their families. I favor reinstatement of the draft...to spread the responsibility, the sacrifice and pain, around equally. We should have done it years ago when we saw we were being spread so thin and that this war won't be 'won.'"
Our troops don't have the luxury of time to fret about who's wearing a lapel pin and who's not. That's not their war. Tragically, there's a time when too many of them wear the American flag, big and bold, for everyone to see. It's draped on the coffins of those who, after one too many deployments, find their luck has run out. They get to come home then. To stay.
Linda Hansen,
columnist
We've been bogged down in a war with and occupation of Iraq for nearly five years now but, unlike, say, WW II, this nation is not fully engaged. Far from it. We sacrifice nothing. No rationing of sugar or gasoline, no maps on our walls with pins marking the front, no families gathering around the radio every evening for war news.
While 1% of the population--the military and their families--bear the entire bloody burden of the real war, the other 99% of us are busy Shopping for Freedom. And we've had our own tidy little battle making headlines lately: Partisans declaring war on Barack Obama for failing to sport the tiny American flag pin that is surely the measure of both patriotism and fitness for office. No red, white and blue lapel pin, no support for our troops. To his credit, Mike Huckabee says it's a non-issue. He doesn't fly the flag on his suit all the time either. His patriotism, however, is unchallenged.
As the Lapel Pin War raged in the media and good Americans fired off rounds of deadly condemnation, a military family in the Midwest spent every ounce of energy they had cramming in as much happy time as possible while their loved one, a veteran of fourteen years in the military, was home from his fifth tour in Iraq. He expects orders for his sixth deployment very soon. He's spent the bulk of his late twenties and early thirties at war. His family has spent those same years living in fear.
This proud military family will not be voting Republican in 2008. They like Barack Obama. Unless something changes between now and primary day, they say they'll vote for him. The political banner on their wall might read: "It's the War, Stupid!" Obama's judgment in 2002, when he spoke out against the pending invasion of Iraq as rushing into a "dumb, rash war", one that would leave our troops stuck in a bloody quagmire with no way out, with inconceivable consequences and at unimaginable cost, has proved prescient. They like his plan for phased redeployment. They don't care what trinket adorns his suit coat. Symbolism is a cheap commodity when bullets, RPGs and IEDs are real threats to real soldiers--and one of them is your son, your daughter, your husband, wife, father, mother.
This military family, like too many others, has sacrificed enough. This military mom says, "How many times will [my son] and his comrades be sent back there and how many times can he be sent before the odds catch him? He doesn't deserve this, nor do his troops and their families. I favor reinstatement of the draft...to spread the responsibility, the sacrifice and pain, around equally. We should have done it years ago when we saw we were being spread so thin and that this war won't be 'won.'"
Our troops don't have the luxury of time to fret about who's wearing a lapel pin and who's not. That's not their war. Tragically, there's a time when too many of them wear the American flag, big and bold, for everyone to see. It's draped on the coffins of those who, after one too many deployments, find their luck has run out. They get to come home then. To stay.
Linda Hansen,
columnist
Monday, September 24, 2007
Heaven’s Scent and Heaven Sent
We’re Americans. We may not know what a “carbon footprint” is, we may not know the difference between a Sunni and a Shi’ite, we may not know why grossly profitable oil companies get subsidies ... but we darn well know our rights. We’ll sue anybody, anywhere, about anything.
Eighty-one year old Charles Lewitzke, a proud resident of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, is suing the makers of Brut (the men’s cologne) and Wal-Mart for unspecified damages. Seems the poor guy splashed Brut all over himself, then lit a match. He caught fire, suffering burns over 30% of his body. While the cologne bottle does sport a warning label: Flammable. Do not use while smoking or near open flame, Mr. Lewitzke’s attorney believes there’s a case to be made for his client. “Our view is,” the lawyer states, “there is no warning that after you apply it you remain flammable for some period of time. You aren’t thinking, ‘I’m still flammable’.”
Mr. Lewitske is suing Brut for not warning him sufficiently, for making the stuff and Wal-Mart for selling it. No word, as yet, as to whether or not the match maker might be included in the suit.
Meanwhile, in the great state of Nebraska, another lawsuit is underway. State Senator Ernie Chambers (no party) is suing God. Chambers, the longest serving senator in Nebraska history, has been known to routinely skip morning prayers during the legislative session. He has been, they say, openly critical of Christians.
God, as defendant in the good senator’s lawsuit, stands accused of having made terrorist threats against the senator and his constituents, inspired fear and caused “...widespread death, destruction and terrorization of millions upon millions of the Earth’s inhabitants... fearsome floods...horrendous hurricanes, terrifying tornadoes.”
He can sue God in Douglas County, Nebraska, the legislator claims, because He’s everywhere. Ernie Chambers is seeking a permanent injunction against Almighty God.
He’s really doing this, he says, to make the point that anyone can file a lawsuit against anyone else. He’s hopping mad because a woman recently filed suit against the judge presiding over her sexual assault case. She’s the one who was assaulted. The judge barred the use of words such as “rape” and “victim” in the trial. The woman claims the judge has violated her right to free speech in court.
No wonder Sen. Chambers is in such a snit — mad enough to sue the Almighty to prove his point. We can’t have some silly sexual assault plaintiff demanding the words “rape” and “victim” be used in open court. What would people think? And she’s suing. She’s suing the judge who ruled out inflammatory words and declared a mistrial in July because “pre-trial publicity made it impossible to gather enough impartial jurors.”
When does the word flammable cease to mean flammable? How far does a warning label have to go? How can Wal-Mart sell dangerous products to the unwary? How does the defense depose God? Will He be forced to appear in court to defend Himself?
Anchoring the word jurisprudence is the inferred “prudent.” There oughta be a law.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The War and Mixed Messages:
A plan for all seasons
The Decider-in-Chief paid another stealth visit to Iraq the first weekend of September. Dressed all in Johnny Cash black, Bush spent six hours there, surrounded by U.S. military, in the immediate neighborhood of a U.S. military base. He liked what he saw from that vantage point: Not a suicide bomber, IED, car bomb or insurgent sniper in sight. It was all good. He could assess the full range of progress on the ground from right there, long miles away from the heat of battle and cash in on a photo-op to boot. He left, one happy fella, on his way to the APEC summit in Australia.
Australian Deputy Prime Minister Mark Vaile met him as he arrived in Sydney, politely asking the POTUS how things were going in Iraq.
“We’re kicking ass,” the ever-eloquent Dubya quipped.
Another lofty pronouncement for posterity. We can add this one to the string of all-goes-well wisdoms we’ve been spoon fed since the early days of selling the war:
* Imminent threat!
* It won’t take long and it won’t cost much!
* Shock and awe will do it!
* They’re gonna love us for this!
* Mission Accomplished!
* Well, looting and shooting in the streets just goes to show ya how messy freedom can be!
* What insurgency?
* Oh. That one. Well, it’s in its last throes!
* A surge’ll fix this — just wait until September!
* Well, I’m an October/November kind of guy.
* We need another six months — just wait until March 2008!
Been there, done that. In 1968 Gen. William Westmoreland, tasked with re-marketing an unpopular, bloody quagmire in Vietnam, told us “We’re seeing light at the end of the tunnel!” Shortly after his pronouncement we got slammed with the infamous Tet Offensive and it was all downhill from there. It was a lousy case of the White House using military brass as a shield then — and nothing is different now. General Petraeus, tasked with pulling an Iraq War rabbit out of his hat, gets stuck trying to stall for time before Congress. He’s already told us there is no military solution; it’s a diplomatic win or nothing and soldiers, no matter how brave, effective or patriotic, are not nation builders. Like may Americans and members of Congress, I felt sorry for an honorable man in an impossible situation.
Conventional wisdom: The new Bush strategy for Iraq? Kick this eroded can down the road, stay the course, play for time and run out the clock. Pass off this Iraq fiasco to the next president, let him (or her) deal with the inevitable “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t” scenario.
Dubya’s absolutely right. Somebody’s ass is getting kicked here. At $2 billion a week, the economic ass-kicking is ours. Yours and mine. In the unthinkable ass-kicking of irreparable loss, it’s our troops on the ground getting the proverbial boot; it’s their blood being spilled for politics. There are more amputees coming home from this war than from any other since the Civil War.
They stand up, we stand down. That was the deal and we’ve been told for four years that we were almost there. To date, however, neither the Iraqi government nor their military can get on their feet. It may take years, they tell us now, before Iraq can defend or govern itself: “Insurgencies generally take nine or ten years to run their course.” The Army says they cannot sustain this burden past March.
What’s changing significantly and permanently on the ground in Iraq? Nothing but the body count.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Australian Deputy Prime Minister Mark Vaile met him as he arrived in Sydney, politely asking the POTUS how things were going in Iraq.
“We’re kicking ass,” the ever-eloquent Dubya quipped.
Another lofty pronouncement for posterity. We can add this one to the string of all-goes-well wisdoms we’ve been spoon fed since the early days of selling the war:
* Imminent threat!
* It won’t take long and it won’t cost much!
* Shock and awe will do it!
* They’re gonna love us for this!
* Mission Accomplished!
* Well, looting and shooting in the streets just goes to show ya how messy freedom can be!
* What insurgency?
* Oh. That one. Well, it’s in its last throes!
* A surge’ll fix this — just wait until September!
* Well, I’m an October/November kind of guy.
* We need another six months — just wait until March 2008!
Been there, done that. In 1968 Gen. William Westmoreland, tasked with re-marketing an unpopular, bloody quagmire in Vietnam, told us “We’re seeing light at the end of the tunnel!” Shortly after his pronouncement we got slammed with the infamous Tet Offensive and it was all downhill from there. It was a lousy case of the White House using military brass as a shield then — and nothing is different now. General Petraeus, tasked with pulling an Iraq War rabbit out of his hat, gets stuck trying to stall for time before Congress. He’s already told us there is no military solution; it’s a diplomatic win or nothing and soldiers, no matter how brave, effective or patriotic, are not nation builders. Like may Americans and members of Congress, I felt sorry for an honorable man in an impossible situation.
Conventional wisdom: The new Bush strategy for Iraq? Kick this eroded can down the road, stay the course, play for time and run out the clock. Pass off this Iraq fiasco to the next president, let him (or her) deal with the inevitable “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t” scenario.
Dubya’s absolutely right. Somebody’s ass is getting kicked here. At $2 billion a week, the economic ass-kicking is ours. Yours and mine. In the unthinkable ass-kicking of irreparable loss, it’s our troops on the ground getting the proverbial boot; it’s their blood being spilled for politics. There are more amputees coming home from this war than from any other since the Civil War.
They stand up, we stand down. That was the deal and we’ve been told for four years that we were almost there. To date, however, neither the Iraqi government nor their military can get on their feet. It may take years, they tell us now, before Iraq can defend or govern itself: “Insurgencies generally take nine or ten years to run their course.” The Army says they cannot sustain this burden past March.
What’s changing significantly and permanently on the ground in Iraq? Nothing but the body count.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Monday, September 10, 2007
A Midsummer Night’s Scream: another sex scandal
It’s big news. All day, all night. It’s fodder for panels of pundits. Senator Larry Craig (R-Idaho) arrested in June by a plainclothes police officer investigating lewd conduct complaints in a men’s public restroom at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. After Craig spent two minutes peering through the crack in the stall door where the undercover cop sat waiting for solicitation by sex perps--and hearing no “Shove off, Buddy!”--the senator entered an adjacent stall and played a little tap-and-touch footsie with the law. Then Craig stuck his hand under the stall, gesturing “Howdy”, maybe “Come hither”, to his new friend. The cop responded by flashing. His badge. He arrested the legislator.
The Idaho Senator pled guilty to the less scandalous crime of disorderly conduct, which carried a small fine and a period of unsupervised probation.
“I’m not gay!” Craig announced publicly after the story broke. He’s sorry he pled guilty. He didn’t cop a plea and try to keep the incident secret because he’d done anything wrong, he says. He did it because he “just hoped it would go away.” And it’s the fault of the press anyway, he goes on. The Idaho Statesman has been investigating multiple allegations of the senator’s sexual encounters/misconduct with men dating as far back as 1967. The pressure of that investigative persecution, Craig claims, has him so flustered he failed to insist on his innocence in Minneapolis.
Senate Republicans have requested an Ethics Committee investigation. Mitt Romney, whose Idaho campaign was spearheaded by Craig, is backing off like the untainted at a Victims of Contagious Diseases Convention receiving line. “Very disappointing,” Romney says of the arrest and scandal. “He’s no longer associated with my campaign ... and I’m sorry he’s fallen short ... reminds us of Mark Foley and Bill Clinton ... franky, it’s disgusting.”
Lewd conduct in a public place is a crime. If Craig’s had a verified history of such behavior, he deserves to pay the price. In more ways than one. Larry Craig’s legislative record--since 1980--is aggressively anti-gay. He’s anti-sex outside of traditional one man, one woman marriage. Craig blasted Clinton for the “nasty, naughty, bad boy” commission of adultery and lying about it. He voted for impeachment.
And there’s the rub. Mark Foley, Ted Haggard, Larry Craig, et al. It’s the hypocrisy of high-minded public condemnation of the private lives of “those other people” while indulging themselves in secret. It’s the holier-than-thou legislative agenda that would criminalize same sex relationships at worst, deny them equal protection under the law at best. Senator Larry Craig opposed even civil unions for gay and lesbian couples. Couple that hypocrisy with a national penchant for lusty “news” and you’ve got HEADLINES.
It’s a shame. Absent breaking the law--as in lewd conduct in public, solicitation or rape--the intimate lives of American citizens, in office or out, is nobody’s business.
We’re in the midst of a nearly five-year-long bloody occupation of Iraq, in debt up to our eyebrows, 46+ million Americans have no health insurance, our schools are failing and Osama is still on the loose. With crises on every front, the Craig story should be nothing more than a blip on the media radar, not a new national obsession. If he did the crime or disgraced himself, he’ll answer for it. No prurient piling on necessary.
Somebody put sex/sexual preference at the top of the national agenda. It sells. But in-depth sex 24/7 is a sorry substitute for hard news.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
The Idaho Senator pled guilty to the less scandalous crime of disorderly conduct, which carried a small fine and a period of unsupervised probation.
“I’m not gay!” Craig announced publicly after the story broke. He’s sorry he pled guilty. He didn’t cop a plea and try to keep the incident secret because he’d done anything wrong, he says. He did it because he “just hoped it would go away.” And it’s the fault of the press anyway, he goes on. The Idaho Statesman has been investigating multiple allegations of the senator’s sexual encounters/misconduct with men dating as far back as 1967. The pressure of that investigative persecution, Craig claims, has him so flustered he failed to insist on his innocence in Minneapolis.
Senate Republicans have requested an Ethics Committee investigation. Mitt Romney, whose Idaho campaign was spearheaded by Craig, is backing off like the untainted at a Victims of Contagious Diseases Convention receiving line. “Very disappointing,” Romney says of the arrest and scandal. “He’s no longer associated with my campaign ... and I’m sorry he’s fallen short ... reminds us of Mark Foley and Bill Clinton ... franky, it’s disgusting.”
Lewd conduct in a public place is a crime. If Craig’s had a verified history of such behavior, he deserves to pay the price. In more ways than one. Larry Craig’s legislative record--since 1980--is aggressively anti-gay. He’s anti-sex outside of traditional one man, one woman marriage. Craig blasted Clinton for the “nasty, naughty, bad boy” commission of adultery and lying about it. He voted for impeachment.
And there’s the rub. Mark Foley, Ted Haggard, Larry Craig, et al. It’s the hypocrisy of high-minded public condemnation of the private lives of “those other people” while indulging themselves in secret. It’s the holier-than-thou legislative agenda that would criminalize same sex relationships at worst, deny them equal protection under the law at best. Senator Larry Craig opposed even civil unions for gay and lesbian couples. Couple that hypocrisy with a national penchant for lusty “news” and you’ve got HEADLINES.
It’s a shame. Absent breaking the law--as in lewd conduct in public, solicitation or rape--the intimate lives of American citizens, in office or out, is nobody’s business.
We’re in the midst of a nearly five-year-long bloody occupation of Iraq, in debt up to our eyebrows, 46+ million Americans have no health insurance, our schools are failing and Osama is still on the loose. With crises on every front, the Craig story should be nothing more than a blip on the media radar, not a new national obsession. If he did the crime or disgraced himself, he’ll answer for it. No prurient piling on necessary.
Somebody put sex/sexual preference at the top of the national agenda. It sells. But in-depth sex 24/7 is a sorry substitute for hard news.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Friday, August 31, 2007
Born Again: the faith-based initiative
and Chinese law
Politix Lite. A little political humor is a good thing. Given the current state of affairs in this country, a sense of the ridiculous is even better. You have to go some distance to find a system as convoluted as ours has become. You know-- federal debt is not really such a bad thing when we do it, sure--we’re winning the war, the economy is (really!) good and who needs health care? I found it.
In the PR war for the mantle of political idiocy, China has made a bold move. Even with another 17 months or so of Dubya’s wit and wisdom ahead of us, we’ll be hard-pressed to top this: According to the Chinese State Administration for Religious Affairs, a new law will go into effect come September. China has banned Buddhist monks in Tibet from reincarnating without government permission. The law, says a spokesperson for the government, strictly defines the procedures by which one is to reincarnate. It is “...an important move to institutionalize the management of reincarnation.”
Well. That’s a relief to every hard-working Chinese citizen. You can’t have Buddhist monks reincarnating willy-nilly, whenever and wherever they take a notion to do it. Before you know it you’ll have a bald, saffron-robed fellow meditating on every street corner, chanting some tuneless little ditty and expecting a free bowl of rice in the bargain. Not only that--if some thug goes after your wallet, beating you senseless in the process, the pacifist born-again monk won’t lift a finger to help you. Karma and all. It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t done something creepy in a former life. You have it coming.
The point, actually, has nothing to do with protecting the citizens of China. It’s about another kind of protection altogether. The Dalai Lama has been living in exile in India since 1959. Many of his flock--all those other monks--are living in Tibet. The Chinese government seems to feel that, if they succeed in barring these monks from reincarnating, there will be no new little Dalai Lama reborn to do all that praying and relief-of-the-suffering nonsense on Chinese soil. Once authorities have secured control of the reincarnation issue they can simply pick and choose the new Buddhist leaders. More mainstream, tasteful types, maybe, who dress better; who don’t go around stirring up trouble about human rights, the poor, the sick and the hungry.
It may be that the Dalai Lama and the Chinese government strike a deal: Reincarnation at will as long as they keep it outside China and the Himalayan nation they seized over 50 years ago. How Buddhist monks will prove their adherence to the new law is yet to be determined.
One thing’s certain. We’ll never top this, despite our own current predilection with obsessing over who’s-what-religion and why it matters. Whether it’s ever a provable fact or not, the Chinese government wants reincarnation off the national agenda. Here it’s mighty hard to get elected to public office unless you swear you’re born-again. Whether you can prove it or not. Go figure.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Capitol crimes and Misdemeanors: honesty and justice in politics
In a feisty discussion of politics last week a friend told me, “Face it. There ain’t no justice and you all are partly to blame. Why don’t you call a spade a spade, demand answers and rein them in? When will the media do more than serve as voyeurs or a steno pool for the power brokers in government?”
He may be right. This week the media gave us footage of the weepy farewell duo, Stinky and the Brain, and it was enough to reduce us all to tears. Dubya and Karl Rove, cutting the cord at last. There was the decided stench of dissembling in the air. Fleeing the scene of the crime(s), Rove mewled that old political saw, “It’s time ... I just want to be with my family ... ” It begs the question: Which investigation, which subpoena, sir, is about to rise up and bite you on the keester? The CIA leak? Jack Abramoff? The Justice Department fiasco?
Maybe Rove only misspoke about his reason for leaving. He does that a lot. Often enough that he had to answer to the Libby grand jury over and again to “correct” his misstatements. Pols misspeak. They insist they’re smart enough to lead the country but their memories fail them at critical moments and slips-of-the-tongue plague them both before taking office and after. Bush/Cheney et al misspoke about reasons for war, misspoke about the cost, the length, the hardship their war would entail. “Mission Accomplished” was a misstatement. So was “The insurgency is in its last throes.” John McCain says he misspoke about his carefree (heavily armed) shopping spree in Baghdad awhile back. Giuliani admits he recently misspoke about all the long hours he spent — as long or longer than those laborers on site — sucking up the poisoned air at ground zero after 9/11. Mitt Romney, when asked why not one of his five strapping sons is in the military fighting the war he so ardently supports, claimed his sons’ version of equally patriotic service to their country in wartime is helping him get elected. The lofty pursuit of a Romney presidency trumps bloody military service any day. “I misspoke,” Romney said when the statement backfired.
To be fair, Democratic legislators who voted to authorize Dubya’s Iraq War are queuing up in the “I misspoke” line rather than admit they were too cowardly to vote their common sense and conscience in the face of a “You’re either with us or you’re with the terrorists!” tack on the part of the White House. Can’t get re-elected if you’re an unpatriotic terrorist sympathizer, so go along.
Seems the powerful elite can slide by, doing or saying whatever they deem necessary to get or keep power, legal or not. Ethical or not. Unless it’s about sex. And they never lie. They only “misspeak.” Unless it’s about sex; then a lie’s a lie and somebody must be held accountable.
Ordinary folk can’t get away with it. Lie little and your reputation is shot. Lie big — and you’ll pay the price. We don’t have the mass media serving as tail-wagging PR flunkies.
So we’re supposed to believe a sudden yen for family time is Karl Rove’s noble reason for getting out of Dodge? Right. I’ll still respect you in the morning and the check’s in the mail.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
He may be right. This week the media gave us footage of the weepy farewell duo, Stinky and the Brain, and it was enough to reduce us all to tears. Dubya and Karl Rove, cutting the cord at last. There was the decided stench of dissembling in the air. Fleeing the scene of the crime(s), Rove mewled that old political saw, “It’s time ... I just want to be with my family ... ” It begs the question: Which investigation, which subpoena, sir, is about to rise up and bite you on the keester? The CIA leak? Jack Abramoff? The Justice Department fiasco?
Maybe Rove only misspoke about his reason for leaving. He does that a lot. Often enough that he had to answer to the Libby grand jury over and again to “correct” his misstatements. Pols misspeak. They insist they’re smart enough to lead the country but their memories fail them at critical moments and slips-of-the-tongue plague them both before taking office and after. Bush/Cheney et al misspoke about reasons for war, misspoke about the cost, the length, the hardship their war would entail. “Mission Accomplished” was a misstatement. So was “The insurgency is in its last throes.” John McCain says he misspoke about his carefree (heavily armed) shopping spree in Baghdad awhile back. Giuliani admits he recently misspoke about all the long hours he spent — as long or longer than those laborers on site — sucking up the poisoned air at ground zero after 9/11. Mitt Romney, when asked why not one of his five strapping sons is in the military fighting the war he so ardently supports, claimed his sons’ version of equally patriotic service to their country in wartime is helping him get elected. The lofty pursuit of a Romney presidency trumps bloody military service any day. “I misspoke,” Romney said when the statement backfired.
To be fair, Democratic legislators who voted to authorize Dubya’s Iraq War are queuing up in the “I misspoke” line rather than admit they were too cowardly to vote their common sense and conscience in the face of a “You’re either with us or you’re with the terrorists!” tack on the part of the White House. Can’t get re-elected if you’re an unpatriotic terrorist sympathizer, so go along.
Seems the powerful elite can slide by, doing or saying whatever they deem necessary to get or keep power, legal or not. Ethical or not. Unless it’s about sex. And they never lie. They only “misspeak.” Unless it’s about sex; then a lie’s a lie and somebody must be held accountable.
Ordinary folk can’t get away with it. Lie little and your reputation is shot. Lie big — and you’ll pay the price. We don’t have the mass media serving as tail-wagging PR flunkies.
So we’re supposed to believe a sudden yen for family time is Karl Rove’s noble reason for getting out of Dodge? Right. I’ll still respect you in the morning and the check’s in the mail.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Greek prefixes, smart women and Obamaphobia
Clever, those ancient Greeks. They gave us art, literature, philosophy and the notion of a more perfect government. They gave us a language ripe for the picking. Greek prefixes, Greek root-words: “demos” (people), “kratos” (power). Democracy. Power to the people. What a word! What a concept! What’s not to like?
They also gave us the hystera/hystero prefix--which means uterus. Hysterectomy. Problems with a pesky womb? If it offends you, cut it out. Not a bad thing. But there’s also hysteria. You know, that hollering and screaming thing. Tantrums. Panic attacks. General emotional mayhem. And, for too many lo-o-o-ong centuries, the female’s uterus was the definitive root of all disorganized behavior and thought. The womb made us a tad too flaky to be trusted to do more than have babies, cook and clean.
Hysteria has become an equal opportunity malady in modern times. These days men can be hysterical, too. Or those Big Boys with all the power and guns can whip up a climate of hysteria any time they really need one. Dubya and his cronies have mastered the art. WMD and the imminent threat of mushroom clouds poisoning every peace loving American if we didn’t invade ASAP, overthrow the madman with his finger on the nuke button and create a shiny new America-loving Iraq. Quick-like. They’ve kept us in line every step of the way by scaring us to death. Hysteria works.
The Clinton campaign seems to be sinking to hysteria mode lately. When Barack Obama said Bush’s “zero-diplomacy unless I like you” policy is a poor approach, that he would be willing to begin talking to foreign heads of state--good guys or bad--within the first year of an Obama presidency, Clintonistas went ballistic. Suddenly the notion of diplomacy, of open negotiation, is akin to hopping into bed with a harlot after strangling your wife. Clearly Obama is too stupid to be president. Naive. Irresponsible. Within days the “Obama will even talk to Holocaust deniers!” panic pill was dosed out like methadone at a drug rehab facility. It’s hysterical.
I’ve always liked Hillary. She’s smart, she’s tough, she’s capable. But I’m mad at her for using the same old Bush-Rovian smear-and-fear tactics. She should be ashamed. She should be as sick as most women are of the hystera/hystero prefix and its use as a tool to deny us our rightful place in the world of “rational” men. This PMS-style over-reaction, the deliberate distortion of a rival candidate’s intelligence and his intent, is nothing more than the same peddling of hysteria we’ve suffered for the last 6 1/2 years; it’s Dubya’s “We have to fight them over there so we won’t have to fight them here!” nonsense in make-up and high heels.
It is unworthy of a candidate who says she represents change. It is especially unworthy of a smart woman who has had to weather the women’s rights wars. The marketing of hysteria is beneath a strong candidate for the highest office in the land. It smacks of the same old dirty politics. Barack Obama has said--more than once--”We [Americans] are better than this.” That sentiment should surely apply to Hillary, a powerful woman who is in a position to enhance the cause for women’s capabilities trumping their wombs once and for all. The hysteria mode offends us. Cut it out.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
They also gave us the hystera/hystero prefix--which means uterus. Hysterectomy. Problems with a pesky womb? If it offends you, cut it out. Not a bad thing. But there’s also hysteria. You know, that hollering and screaming thing. Tantrums. Panic attacks. General emotional mayhem. And, for too many lo-o-o-ong centuries, the female’s uterus was the definitive root of all disorganized behavior and thought. The womb made us a tad too flaky to be trusted to do more than have babies, cook and clean.
Hysteria has become an equal opportunity malady in modern times. These days men can be hysterical, too. Or those Big Boys with all the power and guns can whip up a climate of hysteria any time they really need one. Dubya and his cronies have mastered the art. WMD and the imminent threat of mushroom clouds poisoning every peace loving American if we didn’t invade ASAP, overthrow the madman with his finger on the nuke button and create a shiny new America-loving Iraq. Quick-like. They’ve kept us in line every step of the way by scaring us to death. Hysteria works.
The Clinton campaign seems to be sinking to hysteria mode lately. When Barack Obama said Bush’s “zero-diplomacy unless I like you” policy is a poor approach, that he would be willing to begin talking to foreign heads of state--good guys or bad--within the first year of an Obama presidency, Clintonistas went ballistic. Suddenly the notion of diplomacy, of open negotiation, is akin to hopping into bed with a harlot after strangling your wife. Clearly Obama is too stupid to be president. Naive. Irresponsible. Within days the “Obama will even talk to Holocaust deniers!” panic pill was dosed out like methadone at a drug rehab facility. It’s hysterical.
I’ve always liked Hillary. She’s smart, she’s tough, she’s capable. But I’m mad at her for using the same old Bush-Rovian smear-and-fear tactics. She should be ashamed. She should be as sick as most women are of the hystera/hystero prefix and its use as a tool to deny us our rightful place in the world of “rational” men. This PMS-style over-reaction, the deliberate distortion of a rival candidate’s intelligence and his intent, is nothing more than the same peddling of hysteria we’ve suffered for the last 6 1/2 years; it’s Dubya’s “We have to fight them over there so we won’t have to fight them here!” nonsense in make-up and high heels.
It is unworthy of a candidate who says she represents change. It is especially unworthy of a smart woman who has had to weather the women’s rights wars. The marketing of hysteria is beneath a strong candidate for the highest office in the land. It smacks of the same old dirty politics. Barack Obama has said--more than once--”We [Americans] are better than this.” That sentiment should surely apply to Hillary, a powerful woman who is in a position to enhance the cause for women’s capabilities trumping their wombs once and for all. The hysteria mode offends us. Cut it out.
By Linda Hansen,
columnist
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Are you afraid of clowns?
Poll Dancing: questions, answers and the naked truth
2008 looms large. Another national election, another chance to have our voices heard. As soon as we know what we think. What we want. Who we want to give us what we want for four years. It’s all so confusing during primary season. Too many choices. Like a huge menu in a Chinese restaurant: nine or ten entrees in Column A, at least that many in Column B. What are we in the mood for?
Thank God for polls. We see, hear, read poll results everyday. They tell us who’s in, who’s out, who’s sinking fast. If most people polled support, say, Giuliani over McCain or Clinton over Obama, we don’t have to think too hard. Most people must be right. So we simply hop on the bandwagon. Trouble is, we don’t know who “most people” are. How many of us ever get polled? Sometimes I feel left out.
Until the second week in July. It was, at last, my turn. I was polled by the folks at Rasmussen Reports. They’ve been tracking elections for over a decade. They are, they tell me, very accurate. I am, of course, thrilled. I like accuracy — and I get to be one of the most people crowd. I take a deep breath, get my trigger finger poised to press #1 or #2 on my touchtone. First I must answer the usual stuff: My age, sex, race, income, party of choice. Now the fun begins.
“Press #1 if you feel the country is on the right track. Press #2 if you feel we’re off-course.” That one’s easy.
Now it gets complicated.
“Hillary Clinton chose to stay with her husband despite his infidelity. Does this make you more likely to vote for her (press #1) or less likely to vote for her (press #2)?” I’m stuck. There’s no “If you don’t give a rat’s patootie what she decided to do about her marriage, press #3” option.
It gets worse.
“If Dick Cheney needed a kidney and asked you for one of yours, would you say ‘Yes’ (press #1) or ‘No’ (press #2). There’s no “If you’re using your kidney but would humanely advise him to drink more water and pray for him, press #3” option. Truth is, I can’t stand the guy — but I wouldn’t kill him. I did, however, press #2.
Then this:
“Are you afraid of circus clowns? Press #1 for ‘Yes.’ Press #2 for ‘No.’” What the —? What do circus clowns have to do with elections? Is there a bona fide phobia involved here? I press #2. The best thing — at a circus — is a good clown.
I’m done. They thank me and disconnect. I Google “psychology: fear of clowns” to figure out what my answer meant. There is a phobia. Seems the exaggerated-happy-face clown who smiles while he beats up a smaller clown or kicks a dog scares some folks. They don’t know what evil lurks behind that big, red smile. I should have pressed #1.
The only candidate mentioned in the Rasmussen Poll was Hillary Clinton. The only issue, her marriage. The only repub mentioned was Dick Cheney— well, Cheney’s kidney. And the clown? Not sure about him. I think, maybe, he’s the scary guy in the Oval Office. One wrong answer and I skewed the poll. I’m terrified of clowns.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Deaf, Dumb and Blonde: TV, ratings, and bimbo eruptions
MSNBC and CNN. Chris Matthews and Larry King, Ann Coulter and Paris Hilton. The vamping of hate-speak and the dumbing down of America. For ratings. For profit. And I watched. I should be ashamed.
Matthews hosted Arsenic-tongued Ann, who did her poisonous shtick in front of a live--and very young--audience. She went after John Edwards with a vengeance. Having already said “I’ll just wish he’d been killed in a terrorist assassination plot”, Coulter couldn’t resist making reference to the Edwards’ son, who was killed in an auto accident in the ‘90s. Edwards, she snarled, sports a bumper sticker on his car that reads “Ask me about my dead son.”
Elizabeth Edwards, having heard quite enough, phoned in. She did Southern womanhood proud. “I ask her politely to stop the personal attacks,” she said. “I’m the mother of that boy who died. These young people behind you, you’re asking them to participate in a dialogue...based on hatefulness and ugliness instead of the issues...I don’t think that’s serving them or this country very well.”
Coulter tried shouting over Mrs. Edwards while Matthews sputtered. We had one screamer, one stutterer and a single, Southern voice of reason.
Over at CNN, Larry King bumped an hour scheduled with Michael Moore, whose new documentary focuses on insurance company greed, the underinsured and a failed healthcare system. Why? Because Paris Hilton, sprung from jail, had something important to tell us. “I just want to let people know what I’ve been through,” she simpered. Going to jail “...was the most terrifying day of my life.” Truly, it was a nightmare for poor Paris. She did discover the Bible. She read it, she said, and used her jail time to “Figure out who I am.” I waited for the revelation. Here’s what I learned from the new, improved Paris:
Her DUI: She had only one drink. Honest. It was all unfair, really. People tell lies and the public doesn’t really understand her. Jail was, like, traumatic. The cell was tiny (only about 8’ x 12’) and she suffers claustrophobia. She closed her eyes a lot, pretending to be somewhere nice. She’d like to “help” women in jail--but that statement was the extent of her plan. She’s busy taping her TV show and will make two movies this summer. She’s an Aquarius, and that makes her a “social” person.
Oh--and “I found out a lot about myself,” she said humbly. So King asked her to name something she’d change about herself. Here it comes at last, I thought. Her born again wisdom. Paris took a deep breath. Whenever she’s nervous or shy, she said, her voice gets all, like, high and squeaky. She’d like to change that.
Ann and Paris are two sides of the same American coin. The vicious and the vapid, famous for doing nothing of value. I watched. I listened. And I needed a shower.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Matthews hosted Arsenic-tongued Ann, who did her poisonous shtick in front of a live--and very young--audience. She went after John Edwards with a vengeance. Having already said “I’ll just wish he’d been killed in a terrorist assassination plot”, Coulter couldn’t resist making reference to the Edwards’ son, who was killed in an auto accident in the ‘90s. Edwards, she snarled, sports a bumper sticker on his car that reads “Ask me about my dead son.”
Elizabeth Edwards, having heard quite enough, phoned in. She did Southern womanhood proud. “I ask her politely to stop the personal attacks,” she said. “I’m the mother of that boy who died. These young people behind you, you’re asking them to participate in a dialogue...based on hatefulness and ugliness instead of the issues...I don’t think that’s serving them or this country very well.”
Coulter tried shouting over Mrs. Edwards while Matthews sputtered. We had one screamer, one stutterer and a single, Southern voice of reason.
Over at CNN, Larry King bumped an hour scheduled with Michael Moore, whose new documentary focuses on insurance company greed, the underinsured and a failed healthcare system. Why? Because Paris Hilton, sprung from jail, had something important to tell us. “I just want to let people know what I’ve been through,” she simpered. Going to jail “...was the most terrifying day of my life.” Truly, it was a nightmare for poor Paris. She did discover the Bible. She read it, she said, and used her jail time to “Figure out who I am.” I waited for the revelation. Here’s what I learned from the new, improved Paris:
Her DUI: She had only one drink. Honest. It was all unfair, really. People tell lies and the public doesn’t really understand her. Jail was, like, traumatic. The cell was tiny (only about 8’ x 12’) and she suffers claustrophobia. She closed her eyes a lot, pretending to be somewhere nice. She’d like to “help” women in jail--but that statement was the extent of her plan. She’s busy taping her TV show and will make two movies this summer. She’s an Aquarius, and that makes her a “social” person.
Oh--and “I found out a lot about myself,” she said humbly. So King asked her to name something she’d change about herself. Here it comes at last, I thought. Her born again wisdom. Paris took a deep breath. Whenever she’s nervous or shy, she said, her voice gets all, like, high and squeaky. She’d like to change that.
Ann and Paris are two sides of the same American coin. The vicious and the vapid, famous for doing nothing of value. I watched. I listened. And I needed a shower.
Linda Hansen has been a published working writer and poet for over twenty years. She has a love/hate relationship with politics.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Fancy Pants: The $54 Million Pants-Suit
Tuesday, June 12, 2007. A day that will live in U.S. courtroom infamy.
The case? Pearson v. Custom Cleaners. The crime? A pair of men’s suit pants gone missing under suspicious circumstances.
The plaintiff: A D.C. administration law judge, Roy Pearson. The defendants: Custom Cleaners, the Chung family, et al. It’s a case that could break your heart. It’ll certainly break the Chungs, should they lose the suit. No pun intended.
Judge Pearson took five suits to Custom Cleaners awhile back. He’d gained twenty pounds and needed alterations done; a good fit is as important as good judgment on the bench these days. Pearson was a regular customer of the Chungs’. You don’t trust your best britches to just anybody. The judge believed his pants were in good hands.
But when Pearson picked up his five newly enlarged suits he found one pair of slacks was missing. He went back to the cleaners to get them. The Chungs couldn’t find them and the battle was on. Eventually the cleaners did locate a pair of pants with a tag matching that of Pearson’s coat. Tragically, they were the wrong britches. Matching cleaner’s tag or no, Pearson said, the pants they tried to give him were not his. They had cuffs and, with the possible exception of one or two times, he’d never worn cuffed slacks in his entire life. It was clear he had to do something--you simply do not try to cuff a D.C. judge and get off lightly. He would sue the pants off those folks.
The Chungs offered him as much as $12,000 to settle the matter, to get him off their backs. He was having none of that. Those unscrupulous immigrants had a sign in their window: Satisfaction Guaranteed. Pearson opted to take them to court. He would sue them for millions.
His opening statement in D.C. superior court was riveting. “Never before in recorded history have a group of defendants engaged in such misleading and unfair business practices,” Judge Pearson proclaimed. The tone was set. He would cut them no slack(s).
The trial has been an emotional one. Pearson broke down on the stand. Describing his pants was painful. The sight of the cuffed impostor pants was so traumatic he was forced to halt his testimony, forced to flee the courtroom, tears streaming, to compose himself before he could go on. Losing his britches caused this judge some serious pain and suffering. 54 million dollars worth.
At the end of the day, he said, the case was not about pants--although he wept over his--it was about that sign in the Chung’s window. Replacing his pants was not enough to satisfy him. $12,000 was not enough either. Custom Cleaners said Satisfaction Guaranteed and Judge Roy Pearson won’t be satisfied until he’s a multi-millionaire and the Chungs are out of business.
Ain’t justice grand?
By Linda Hansen
The case? Pearson v. Custom Cleaners. The crime? A pair of men’s suit pants gone missing under suspicious circumstances.
The plaintiff: A D.C. administration law judge, Roy Pearson. The defendants: Custom Cleaners, the Chung family, et al. It’s a case that could break your heart. It’ll certainly break the Chungs, should they lose the suit. No pun intended.
Judge Pearson took five suits to Custom Cleaners awhile back. He’d gained twenty pounds and needed alterations done; a good fit is as important as good judgment on the bench these days. Pearson was a regular customer of the Chungs’. You don’t trust your best britches to just anybody. The judge believed his pants were in good hands.
But when Pearson picked up his five newly enlarged suits he found one pair of slacks was missing. He went back to the cleaners to get them. The Chungs couldn’t find them and the battle was on. Eventually the cleaners did locate a pair of pants with a tag matching that of Pearson’s coat. Tragically, they were the wrong britches. Matching cleaner’s tag or no, Pearson said, the pants they tried to give him were not his. They had cuffs and, with the possible exception of one or two times, he’d never worn cuffed slacks in his entire life. It was clear he had to do something--you simply do not try to cuff a D.C. judge and get off lightly. He would sue the pants off those folks.
The Chungs offered him as much as $12,000 to settle the matter, to get him off their backs. He was having none of that. Those unscrupulous immigrants had a sign in their window: Satisfaction Guaranteed. Pearson opted to take them to court. He would sue them for millions.
His opening statement in D.C. superior court was riveting. “Never before in recorded history have a group of defendants engaged in such misleading and unfair business practices,” Judge Pearson proclaimed. The tone was set. He would cut them no slack(s).
The trial has been an emotional one. Pearson broke down on the stand. Describing his pants was painful. The sight of the cuffed impostor pants was so traumatic he was forced to halt his testimony, forced to flee the courtroom, tears streaming, to compose himself before he could go on. Losing his britches caused this judge some serious pain and suffering. 54 million dollars worth.
At the end of the day, he said, the case was not about pants--although he wept over his--it was about that sign in the Chung’s window. Replacing his pants was not enough to satisfy him. $12,000 was not enough either. Custom Cleaners said Satisfaction Guaranteed and Judge Roy Pearson won’t be satisfied until he’s a multi-millionaire and the Chungs are out of business.
Ain’t justice grand?
By Linda Hansen
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