Extra! Extra! Read All About It! Fire Storm of Freedom Rages On

I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars to earn you Freedom.
-T.E. Lawrence

Just a reminder, though sometimes it might not seem that way, this blog was originally intended to promote freedom, deny conspiracies their tenuous hold on the truth and, of course, express my opinions on the subject.

I've discovered a number of "must reads" on the freedom and democracy movements across the world. Some of the newest ones bring much needed inside information.

Please be sure to add these blogs to your general list of things to read and keep up on our "fire burning in the minds of men."

The original blog I support on behalf of Spirit of America Friends of Democracy: Iraq which recently sported an article about the hackers using Islam as the "sword" in there terrible ideology and ignoring its call to "reason and dialogue". Of course, commentary on the political scene in Iraq.

Spirit of America: Friends of Democracy - Lebanon Blog has some great pictures and inside information about the continuing freedom movement in Lebanon.

wanted to make sure these guys knew a huge cross-section of the American people support what they are doing.

"It feels kinda weird, man" Hisham said.

"Why?" I said.

"Because we don't know what you want from us. What's in it for you?"

"Look," I said. "We live in a free country."

"Oh yes, I know," Hashim's friend said. "We really envy you for what you have."

"So we want you to be free, too," I said. "Americans hate dictatorship and oppression. No one should have to live like that. You're fighting for what we believe in, so of course we support you."

They seemed slightly wary, like I was blowing smoke.

"Okay," Hashim said. "Who decides what kind of freedom we have in Lebanon?"

"You," I said and pointed at him personally.

"Yes!" he said. "Who decides what kind of freedom people will have in Iraq?"

"Iraqis," I said.

"Yes!" he said. He then took out a card and wrote his name, phone number, and email address on the back of it. He handed it to me, shook my hand, and said "You have a friend in Lebanon now. You will always be welcome here."

Later, inside a different tent, a young woman took me aside. And she said: "I must tell you something. If we didn't think we had American support we would never have done this. They would kill us. We need you. It is just a fact."

Another great blog that is covering ALL of the freedom and democracy movements is Publius Pundit keeping all the news articles and commentary together in one place. It's an interesting read if sometimes over whelming to know that so many things are happening all over the world.

An interesting occurance in our own back yard, Free Muslims Against Terrorism are organizing a march in Washington, D.C. in support of freedom and democracy in the Middle East, May 14th. If you're in the area, go down and check it out. Better yet, take a camera and get some pictures. (Tom? Are you reading this?)

Their main site Free Muslims Against Terrorism states as their mission:

The Free Muslims Against Terrorism is a nonprofit organization made up of American Muslims and American Arabs of all backgrounds who feel that religious violence and terrorism have not been fully rejected by the Muslim community in the post 9-11 era.

Free Muslims was created to eliminate broad base support for Islamic extremism and terrorism and to strengthen secular democratic institutions in the Middle East and the Muslim World by supporting Islamic reformation efforts.

And, right in the middle of their page, they ask other Muslim Americans to step up to the plate:

Report instances of extremism or support for terrorism

I've seen the head of this organization on television many times and read the site when I get a chance. There are some great articles listed on the side bars and several videos of interviews with different news groups. Including an interesting one with Al Jazeera whom the Free Muslim group considers an aider and abetter to terrorists.

On Iran, this news article that isn't getting much attention regarding US spending money to promote "freedom and democracy" in Iran. Openly. I've been wondering what the hold up was.

The U.S. government already spends nearly $15 million a year on radio and TV broadcasts into Iran in the Persian language, Farsi. But the United States has not given money directly to Iranians or U.S. organizations to work in Iran because of long-standing hostility and a U.S. prohibition on spending money there.

Oh, yes, policy. But, there is a little more to it than that:

Iran's ambassador to the United Nations, Mohammad Javad Zarif, on Sunday called the U.S. plan "a clear violation of the Algiers accords," which freed 52 U.S. Embassy hostages in Iran in 1981. Zarif said Iran "has the option" of complaining to a special court in the Netherlands. Under the Algiers agreement, the United States pledged "not to intervene directly or indirectly, politically or militarily, in Iran's internal affairs."

Did you know that? I think I was too young at the time and I don't recall reading this in any history class regarding the subject. Fortunately, the article responds with my thoughts. From an AP reporter no less:

Since the agreement was signed, Iran has supported groups such as Hezbollah that the United States regards as terrorist, and it has made progress on a nuclear program that could yield the ability to make bombs.

Exactly. Iran doesn't hold up its end of the bargain, all bets are off. Iran wants to blackmail the world with their nuclear program and disregard their obligations under the Non-proliferation Agreement, thumb their nose at the IAEA? I say it's time for a little overt support for the freedom movement and the mullahs should feel lucky it's only that.

Read the rest here

Iranian blogs for freedom include Blog Iran who quotes from Dr. Michael Ledeen:

President Bush and his team of self-declared democratic revolutionaries have done a lot of talking about supporting the Iranian people, but they haven't delivered on their promises. As they talk, the toll mounts, from Americans killed in Iraq and Afghanistan to Canadians brutally murdered in Tehran, to the oppression and exploitation of the Iranian people, above all the women.


Faster, please. It's getting embarrassing, you know.

That was posted on April 4. Bet this blogger had a surprise yesterday morning when he read the previously mentioned article.

Or, blogging for Regime Change in Iran. Great links to other Iranian freedom blogs.

And, one of my favorite commenters at Iraqi blogs, Stefania, expat Iranian, blogging from Italy and translating many interesting articles at Free Thoughts.

From my post Freedom: A Fire In The Minds of Men January 21, 2005.

I'm gonna take it to the enemies of freedom even if it's only one word, one post, one man, one yard of land, one country at a time.

"By our efforts, we have lit a fire as well - a fire in the minds of men." -Pres Bush

Let's make it the "untamed fire of freedom" that "will reach the darkest corners of our world."

Support freedom and democracy. Give the freedom bloggers a little encouragement and take it to the enemies of freedom one word, one comment at a time at a time.

The fire in the minds of men has become a conflageration, burning away the shadows in the darkest corners, lighting the way to freedom.


Liberty Enlightening the World 

Liberty Cam

"Our defense is in the spirit which prized liberty as the heritage of all men, in all lands everywhere. Destroy this spirit and you have planted the seeds of despotism at your own doors."
- Abraham Lincoln

"I would rather belong to a poor nation that was free than to a rich nation that had ceased to be in love with liberty."
- Woodrow Wilson

I Heard A Distant Bell
K. Henry

I heard a distant bell
It rang a joyous sound
The call of liberty
Its song it could be heard
Echoing ‘round the world
Across every shining sea

Telling all the people
Throw off your heavy shackles
End your slavery
Stand up my brothers
Stand proud my sisters
Today you will be free

It’s ringing ever clearer
For some a dreadful sound
The toll that ends their tyranny
Can you hear the distant bell
It rings a joyous sound
The call to liberty

(liberty enlightening the world adapted from sold out poster from Sandra Baker)

Summary only...

Swift Wind and Gentle Breeze

I dreamed a dream so sweet and true
Of skies the color of fearless blue
I soared with eagles on swift wind and gentle breeze
But one by one they took their leave

I flew for miles, searching far and wide
I missed them soaring by my side
With them near I felt secure and free
Without them I had lost part of me

Then came a dove that did sing
Of peace and love everlasting
Feel no sorrow nor shed a tear, it cried
On swift winds and gentle breeze they reside

It took to wing and left me there
Contemplating all my cares
It was for me they had taken leave
So that I might enjoy swift wind and gentle breeze

Suddenly, it little mattered
That sometimes my wings felt torn and tattered
I soared with eagles in skies of fearless blue
A privilege given to just a few

Finally, I had to go
Return to earth far below
As I touched down and closed my eyes
I felt them still by my side

I woke to skies of fearless blue
I heard the taps sound out the news
Another eagle had taken its leave
Soaring forever on swift wind and gentle breeze
-K. Henry

Mudville reports via milibloggers, another eagle has taken his leave.

God speed, Cpl Watkins, and may you soar forever with your fellow eagles on swift wind and gentle breeze.

Summary only...

I want to quit

Have you ever wanted to quit your job? Not cause you hate it, but because you don't love it anymore? AND, no matter what you do, you can make yourself love it. You know you're not giving it 150% anymore and people expect that. They can't perceive of what 100% looks like or what it looks like when you finally decide that you are not killing yourself 12 hours a day or more, to make it happen.

I knew I had burn out last year. I contemplated quitting then, but they convinced me to stay (that, and my debt). Now, I'm still in debt, I have a house that needs basic repairs and taxes to pay, but I still don't love my job. Not even for the money.

What would you do?

Why am I asking?

I'm a big chicken. I am afraid what there is or isn't out there for me and at what dollar figure. I am at a point where I can't make less unless I trade the truck in for something smaller. Even that won't help but alleviate a couple hundred bucks which won't save me in a severe downsizing of cash flow.

Am I making excuses? I know when I'm not performing to my own standards and nothing is making me do it. I know people are having problems all over the place and I don't want to be the perpetually unemployed.

I'm a chicken, I like my money, I don't love my job anymore. I really hate when I know I am underperforming and if I was my own boss, I'd have written me up a long time ago.

I'm not sure I'm expecting a response or validation. Maybe I hear from others what I've told myself. I am indecisive here.

I tell myself to buck up and stop being a ninny, it's one of the best jobs I've ever had.

I tell myself I'll be screwed if I go out and try to do something after seven years and probably not get the kind of references I would have gotten last year.

I am driving myself to insomnia over it.

I have stress zits. I'm way past the age of acne.

On the other hand, I'm a coward for not seeking other opportunities and letting this go this far where I perform under my own expectations, if not those of the people around me.

I should quit while the going isn't so damned bad.

I used to love this job.

I used to live for this job.

I don't feel like either anymore and there is no one to tell, but you all.

There is my cry in the wilderness.

What the h-e-l-l am I supposed to do?

If nothing else, the blog is a sympathetic ear. The family thinks I'm crazy. The money you know.

I prefer job satisfaction, but sometimes, money is necessary to live in this world.

Calgon, take me away.

Summary only...

I am Jedi Master

Found this via Barbette a denizen of Castle Arggghh posted a quiz.

Normally, I don't do quizes, but this was amusing.

Besides, it said I was a Jedi Master. Who can argue with that?


:: how jedi are you? ::

Summary only...

Odds and Ends: Children Remind You What's Important

Well, first, hi speed went down for four unforgiving days. It sucked major pond scum. There are very few pages that load via dial up these days, particularly when the local access will only bring you 26k. Couldn't even read a site, much less post to it.

So, I'm back to continue on with the struggle against ennui and jaded punditry.

One thing about not having connection, it certainly made me change a few things. I did ALL my laundry, even the stuff I'd thrown downstairs and hadn't used in awhile. I've come to realize I still have too many clothes and need to go see some charitable insitute about donating.

Plus, packing on a few pounds requires some of the old clothes to be less than useful. Why do women keep clothes a size or two too small in their closet? We like to fool ourselves into thinking we will get back there again. Since I can't afford a personal trainer, they have to go (lest I fall into a deep depression when I see them).

I also spent the weekend watching movies (Dodge Ball: stupidest funny movie in awhile; Elektra: dark and brooking heroine, not bad, but glad I didn't pay to see it at the movies)and went to celebrate my brother's birthday. We played miniature golf and rode the go-karts. As we are a competitive family, it was quite interesting. My sister in law isn't quite as competitve so that's a good match for my brother. However, I keep him in shape and he barely won by a stroke on the golf course. If he hadn't spun me out on the race track, he would still have been eating my exhaust. We were so entertaining the go-kart operater asked us if we wanted to go a second time, for free. Unfortunately, it was beginning to rain and I was starving so we declined with a "than you anway".

When I got to their house, the kids all ran out and gave me a hug as if they hadn't seen me in a month even though I'd been there the weekend before. The youngest wrapped her arms around my legs and nearly made me fall over. They come out yelling, "Aunt Katty, Aunt Katty! Will you play with me?" or "You came over! Yeah!" as if it was a miracle that I made it.

It's great to see somebody is excited to see me.

We sat down to have dinner, we were all chatting when the food came out, loading up the plates and getting drinks, we started to dig in. Then one of the boys spoke up, "We forgot to say prayers."

Oops! "Yes, we did," I replied, "Who's going to say prayers this time?"

The youngest raised his hand, "Me, me, me!"

We all bowed our heads and he said a nice little prayer, thankful for the food and drink, help daddy get better (he had foot surgery), thankful to be together. Amen.

We started to dig in. The oldest, who is 12, sat there a minute and didn't raise his fork, I looked up to say something to him about eating, but he caught me off guard before I could admonish him, "Wait!"

Several people had mouthfuls or forks raised midway to their faces. Everybody paused in mid chew and lift, eyebrows raised.

"I was going to say the prayer."

He was a little frustrated, but I couldn't tell if it was just the sibling competition thing, so I replied, "That's okay. You're brother did a good job. You can say it next time."

"But," he sounded even more exasperated, "we forgot something."

"We did?" Food, prayer's for the injured and being together. I couldn't think what it was. "What did we forget?"

"I was going to say a prayer for the soldiers."

"Oh. You're right. Good catch. We can still say it." Everyone put down their forks, swallowed their food and bowed their heads. "Go ahead, bud."

He bowed his head and said, "Dear God, please take care of the soldiers, don't let them get hurt. Please take care of uncle L... and don't let him get hurt either. Amen."

Amen.

Uncle L. is in the National Guard. We are still waiting to see if the rotation includes his unit any time soon. The boys have been very concerned about it and they see the news. They're old enough to understand a little of what's going on.

We also spend some time talking about the soldiers. Two weekends ago I had my computer over and was reading Black Five concerning an after action report. The boys wanted to know what I was reading, especially the oldest. He is fascinated by the computer and soldiers. I read him some of the report and explained what the terminology meant. I had him read a few sentences, helping him with the words.

Then we read an article about the humanitarian things our soldiers were doing, builing schools, giving medicine, etc.

The oldest wanted to know what being a soldier was about. Never being a soldier, I tried to explain that they didn't go around shooting people all the time, though that was sometimes part of the job, taking care of the bad guys. It did mean doing good things for people who were in trouble some times. And, some times, it was just about drilling and being ready just in case they had to do one of those things.

This didn't seem to satisfy him. What was being a soldier really about?

Well, he's twelve and I'm not in the military, so I thought for a few moments about what I could tell him that he could relate to and would, in short order, explain about soldiers. Times like this, I wish my other brother lived closer and could take up the slack.

I fell back on the few things that I know:

Duty: Doing what you're supposed to do, even when it's hard and you don't want to because it might mean that you have to go away from your family for awhile, not have free or fun time or have to do something you wouldn't normally do except it needs to be done.

Honor: Doing what's right even when it's hard. Doing what you promise to do. Never lie or run away. The most important thing is your honor, what you think of yourself, first. Without it you have nothing. Without it, people will not believe in you.

Country: We live in a great country where we get to do things many people don't get to do. We are free. We can say what we want. We have plenty of food and we get to see our family. It's all because many people have done their best to protect what we have. If we want to keep it, we have to protect our country.

That's what soldiers do.

We had few more moments of discussion where he gave me examples from his daily life of how these apply and I told him, "yes, no, maybe, but..." explaining how each of them does or doesn't fit in.

Finally, he had enough to chew on and decided to go out and play. I was hoping I'd said the right things and it helped him understand.

This weekend, while I was over, they were supposed to clean up the downstairs play area. They ran downstairs and came back in about 10 minutes, saying they were done. They weren't, of course, and my brother told them they had to go back and finish it up. The boys didn't want to, "We wanted to play with aunt Kat."

I could see it was heading into an argument where they'd end up getting grounded and no playing would happen so I jumped in (probably to the annoyance of my brother), "But, boys, you have to do this first. Remember when we were talking about the soldiers? Sometimes you have to do things even when they are hard."

"Because it's our duty?" the oldest asked, knowing the answer.

"That's right. We can play afterwards." I replied.

The younger took up a little chant, "I'm going to do it even though it's hard. I'm going to do it even though it's hard." He likes to repeat things in case you didn't hear him the first time.

They both marched off to the play room while I sounded off, "Hup, two, three, four. Hup, two, three, four. Hurry up so we can play."

They went down to clean the room. My niece, who is three, ran up to me, "Me, too? I clean, too."

"Yep. You, too, young lady." She turned around and ran down stairs to "help". You know the kind of "help" that three year olds can be.

In the end, the room was cleaned and we played a game of "Aggravation" where I trounced them soundly one game and was soundly trounced the next, then we watched "Gladiator" while the niece went into the other room and watched "Fairy-topia" a Barbie cartoon she got for Christmas. She is all things "Barbie" these days, in between bouts of playing in the dirt, jumping on the trampoline or playing baseball with me and the boys. A good mix, if I say so myself. Not too sissy and not too tom boy, though she doesn have a tendency to haul off and slug the boys when they are being a pain.

Then it was time for bed. The boys came over one by one and kissed me on the cheek saying "good-night". I gave them a kiss and a hug. Then the niece ran over and jumped squarely in my lap (knee to the solar plexus; she's learning early) giving me a big hug and a kiss.

She had chocolate/spaghetti face. Yum.

All I have to say is, thank God for little children who remind you what's important and thank God for the soldiers who set a fine example.

Amen.

Summary only...

Heroes

It was late and I was tired. Not just a little tired, very tired. I couldn’t sleep, though, too much was on my mind: work, money, family; the usual things that can keep us pre-occupied in the small hours of the morning when we should be sleeping.

I was watching the news and they were showing the Pope’s funeral live on television. There were masses of people and the ceremony was very beautiful. A cardinal read a prayer in Latin. Actually, he was singing the verses and received a reply from the choir: Alleluhiah. Now a prayer and the crowd replied, “Amen”.

While I’m watching this, a few other things are going through my mind. Things like the story I read over at the Rottweiler about a soldier who received the bronze medal for distinguished service. The commendation was posted. When I read the story, I realized that this was the stuff of legends, of heroes, of movies and books.

And, every day, it’s happening around us in places near and far away.

It reminded me of a post by a miliblogger Questing Cat. A bomb went off and wounded a soldier in their unit very badly. His Combat Life Saver training kicked in and he saved this soldier’s life. He wrote the story, not to tell us about his great deed, but because it was still on his mind. He wondered if he’d done everything right, if he had really saved the guy or just done enough to keep him at that moment. He kept questioning himself. His squad leader said he was putting him in for a commendation.

Like all good heroes that came before him, he wanted to refuse the commendation. In his eyes, he hadn’t done much, maybe not enough. He was still shook up about the situation.

Many of the commenters on his board congratulated him on the recommendation, told him he’d “done good” and some even called him a hero.

As you might imagine, he was taken aback by that word: hero. He posted several times that he wasn’t a hero. He was just a guy doing what he was taught to do in a situation that just happened to happen where he was working. He also informed them several times that he didn’t want that praise for his posting, it was just about getting the episode off his chest and the online journal was his way of relieving the tension.

But the people on the comment section insisted that he was just that: a hero.

He seemed to be very confused about why they kept saying that. They didn’t understand him, why he was opposed to applying that word, how he just needed to talk about the frightening thing that happened to him. After thirty or so posts going back and forth, I finally made a comment:

The word “hero” isn’t about you or for you. The word “hero” is for us.

I tried to explain it then. I don’t know if I will explain it any better here.

You see, we all just doing our “thing” every day. We get up, go to work, go to school, feed the kids, try to make the money stretch, etc., etc., etc. As the days go by, we don’t always dwell on it, but every once in awhile, we ask ourselves, “Is this it? This is what we are?” Then we go on, doing what we always do, but that thought is still there, lurking around, waiting for a quiet moment to come out and prick our conscience again.

Are we ants in an ant farm and this is our assigned role? This is all we can be?

Then you read stories like the one at the Rottweiler.

It’s this kind of story that reminds us that we are NOT ants in an ant farm. We are humans. We are fallible, fragile and frustrating sometimes, but we can be more.

That’s why we call people “heroes”. It’s not really about validating them, though validation they deserve, it’s about validating “us” and reminding ourselves that this isn’t all there is, there is more and we can be more.

We can be more.

Heroes are not perfect, but “hero” is not really about being “perfect”. Heroism is in the imperfection, in the struggle, the ability to go on and reach the goal, the top of the mountain, the next mile, even when everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, when you feel like there’s nothing left to give, when you know the ending has better than 50% chance that you won’t even live much less reach the goal, that’s heroic.

The modern age with it’s modern revolutions and wide spread technology gave people the ability to examine every detail of a person’s life and, in finding failings, flaws and weakness, judge them not as “heroes”. Rather we try to weigh their deeds against one another and often find them lacking, not living up to our mystical idealistic “perfect” “hero.”

We deconstruct our heroes for two reasons: some people want to look at them and see what it is that made them behave “heroically”, to understand, to find out if they have that “thing”, too. Others do it to prove that “heroes” aren’t different, aren’t better and are really nothing more than “just some guy”, maybe not even a “good guy” much less “heroic”. In essence, destroying the hero.

It’s in that destruction that there is danger. Once the heroes are gone, that’s when the anti-hero arises, the demagogue that thrives off of what is left in society when there are no more heroes: fear.

It’s happened through out history: Robespierre, Stalin, Hitler, Mao Ze Dung, Pol Pot. When the heroes are gone, all that’s left are the destroyers and the destroyers, realizing people’s psychological need for “heroes”, often pose as just that: heroes saving the day.

The difference between the poser destroyers and the real heroes is in the actions. But, once you’ve destroyed all the heroes, leveled their achievements against their failings over and over again, the measuring stick of true heroism disappears and the ability to tell the posing destroyer from the hero becomes difficult if not impossible.

For this very reason, the hero destroyers believe that this is why all heroes should be destroyed. If we have none, if we believe not, then these posers cannot arise. Yet, they fail to see they perpetuate the problem, circular in occurrence. It is the final destruction of the hero, the idea of “hero” that leads to the demagogue demi-god.

There was a time when people actively sought out the idea of the hero. They looked for it in the people they believed in; peoples from history; from mythology; in the characters of a book, even in the movies. Today, when we hear or read about somebody being “heroic”, along with the short tale of their deed, we get a long list of their life, complete with the failures. When I hear the list of their life, I am left wondering if we are supposed to understand that they are a hero “despite” their life? Or, this is their life despite being a “hero”?

These questions have left me wondering these days, are we a heroic culture or are we a culture of hero destroyers?

I see a heroic culture struggling to survive the destruction. I see heroes in every walk of life. I worry that, one day, we will have destroyed the heroes and, in doing so, will have sowed the seeds of our own destruction.

Maybe, heroics are an illusion. Maybe it’s an idea that can’t exist in our modern world of instant information.

I think it should. It’s why I seek out the miliblogs and the military websites. It’s why I choose to read about certain people in history and read about heroic mythological characters. Not as panacea against everyday life, but as a reminder that there is more, that we can be more.

If it’s an illusion, I’ll keep it, thank you very much, along with my idealism about America, freedom and democracy.

I don’t need illusions, but I do need something to believe in and I prefer to believe in the good.

If we can’t believe in the good and the heroes, what remains except nihilism, the black existence of nothing to strive for but the end of nothing?

Isn’t that what we are fighting against today? The anti-hero?

It’s about time we started giving attention to the heroic in this country and stopped trying to destroy it lest we wake one day to find the anti-hero standing before us, no hero in sight, not even an illusion that can remind us that we, too, can be heroic.

We need people like SGT. Smith and Sgt Jennings.

We need them to remind us that there is something more.

We can be more.

Summary only...

Beverly Hillbilly Bikers Dante Never Visited Louisiana in August

In Dante's Divine Comedy, he talks about the nine circles of the "inferno" or hell, detailing a journey wherein he views the people, their sins and their punishments.

Frankly, Dante didn't know what the hell he was talking about. He never visited Louisiana in August and he never took a long motorcycle trip with my family. If he had, he'd have known that the inferno had more than nine circles and the punishments meted out by the lord of the underworld were cake walks comparitively speaking.

Of course, in his Divine Comedy, you are meant to find the humor in the sins and pain of punishment, however ghastly they might appear, that is inflicted. That's about the only thing that Dante got right. It's definitely funnier when it's happening to someone else or viewed through the scope of time and space.

Don't know what I'm talking about?

Start the journey into the inferno:

Day 1: The Beginning
Day 2: You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet
Day 3: Burnt Ends

For Day 4...

We woke up early on Day 4. The night before we had discussed continuing our journey. So far, it had been a lot more excitement than I was planning on. Or, I should say, a lot DIFFERENT excitement than I had been planning on. Part of me was happy that we were going on. The other, more sane side of my mind was wondering what the hell I was doing going into the back and beyond with a bunch of crazy people I generally referred to as "my family".

Why, oh why, do we never listen to that side of our brain? Okay, maybe "never" isn't the right word. Sometimes, I do listen. But, when it is something that I want very badly or have been planning on for a long time, I am hard to dissuade.

Did I mention that we are ALL hard headed, stubborn wack jobs?

Yeah, it's like that.

I took a cold shower via the hose on the side of my cousin's house. You may recall from Day 2 and Day 3 that the bathroom there was in a state of disrepair.

Who am I kidding? I've seen cleaner and better bathrooms at one pump gas stations in BFE where they keep recycling that same damn rollamatic towel that has turned black with use and has a spot or two of blood on it. Not to mention unmentionable product on the floor, grease and "goop" from the "mechanic" named "Earl" liberally encrusted on the sink and a message that says "Help me!" scribbled in pink lipstick on the mirror.

At least, in those bathrooms, the water ran and nobody warned you against flushing toilet paper into the septic.

Yeah, it was like that.

So, in deference to my more sensitive nature, the one that insists on some sort of clean habits, I donned my bathing suit from the previous day and grabbed my bar of antibacterial soap, trooping over to the hose to stand in line with the rest of the people intent on washing some part of their body and rinsing their suits out at the same time.

Believe me when I tell you that I accomplished this task in very short order, was dressed and packed in record time, standing near the bike hoping to subliminally urge people to get a move on so we could get to the station and allow me to use the facilities for more..uh..important calls of nature.

This time we by passed the little station up the road and went to the station at Wal-Marts. Yes, a gas station at Wal-marts, though not directly linked to them. Once again, sweet relief.

Then we trooped over to the grand imporium of capitalism to do some shopping. I needed some sweat proof sun block. I had been using sun block regularly on our, to date, short trip, even though I was wearing a full face helmet. The sun was brutal on the face and my freckles had a tendency to join together under the best of circumstances to form a raccoon type mask around the eyes. It was so bad in some summers that people mistook the mass of freckles for a deep tan. I do have some regard for my complexion, so sweat proof sun block was required. The sweat not only rinsed away the sun block, but the sunblock had a tendency to run into my eyes at inopportune moments and stung like a thousand little bees. Something else Dante forgot to mention in his cute little journey into hell.

The arms were also important. It was bad enough to have the wind beating against them, add the sun and you were likely to see some rather leathery looking scales appear.

I do have my little vanities.

I also purchased some better lip balm, two cases of bottled water, some more spam, beanie weenies and pork-n-beans. I went to the main grocery area and picked up some condiments, cheese and tomatoes. If I was going to eat spam anymore on the trip, I was intent on making it palatable.

We finally got underway around 9:30 AM and it was already soaring into the upper 80's. Another hot one and it was going to be a scorcher.

The sun burn on my back was already reacting to the heat. The straps of my overalls were irritating the hell out of it and I almost decided to go for the jeans except it was such a pain to get the pant legs over the top of my "Frankenstein" boots. That's what everyone called them because they had an inch and a quarter lug sole that gave me just enough height to stand flat footed at a stop. An important endeavor if you are riding safely.

Uncle Lewis had decided to ride his bike after all. Oh, joy. I loved the guy and he had been the one to give me my first lessons on the bike, teaching me about safety and not riding under certain circumstances, yet, here he was, being all machismo or hard headed or just plain crazy, insisting on riding after his day old collapse; in the front of the pack. Once again, I decided that a stretched out pack would suit me fine and so would the back of the pack.

We took off heading out of Arkansas. Southern Arkansas was nice, but once it flattened out into Louisiana, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of scenery to look at. Of course, maybe a native southern Arkansan would say differently, but the heat and the condition of the road had my attention much more than the slightly rolling hills covered in a hazy, heated mist.

I mentioned that my bike only gets 90 miles to the tank? We had to stop by 11pm, just on the other side of the Louisiana border for gas. At this point, it was about 95 in the shade and the uncle was beginning to fade. I'm not sure if reason set in or the aunt finally put her foot down, but they traded places in the truck and gave Robert the keys to his bike.

Off we went again.

Midway through Louisiana the heat had reached around 100. Maybe more with the heat index. I don't know, but, again, heat exhaustian was ripping at our group. It was just about to kill me and I was drinking water, wearing thin overalls and a wet bandana around my neck that, with the dirt and grime flying off the highway, contributed to several dirt streaks on my white T-shirt. Now I know why bikers always wear black. Some of my t-shirts never recovered from that trip. About this time, though, I didn't really give a rats patutti. My main concern was not passing out at 80 mph on a well traveled highway.

As we went along, I kept flipping the shield of my helmet up to get some air. Any air. The damn thing was like a sauna. Now I know why soldiers call their helmets "brain pots" or "brain boilers" or whatever. I did feel like my brain was cooking like those commercials of the egg frying on the sidewalk. Just as yummy looking, too.

The problem was, the shield was too loose so every time I flipped it up, the wind would flip it shut after only a few minutes of air. It was damned annoying. Up. Down. Up. Down. Not that the air I was getting was any better. The wind whipping across the highway was coming from the west. West Texas that is and it was the hottest wind I had ever felt in my life. Imagine the inferno we were discussing earlier. Imagine every time the flames roared and a hot gust of fire and brimstone blew into your face.

It was that hot. So hot, in fact, that it was stealing my breath away. I almost found myself holding my breath in a desperate attempt to not scorch my lungs or choke down my peck of dirt in a few hours instead of over a life time. I do believe I choked down at least two pecks on that little six hour journey out of the third circle of hell and into the fourth.

We finally stopped and everyone was digging for water this time as well as using the melted ice cold water from the cooler to pour out on kerchiefs and t-shirts. Several bottles of water also found themselves onto heads. Mine included. I already had "helmet hair". Wetting it down was not going to make it worse.

I proceeded to dig around all the stuff, that seemed much more precariously packed than before, for the tool box I kept. I needed a screw driver. That face shield was coming off. I didn't even care if I got smacked by the big ol' june bugs that were making their presence known by the welts on my arms. Not to mention the small pebbles and other crap that came flying off the wheels and out the windows of the "cages" as we affectionately referred to cars and trucks. Diesels were our nemesis.

Eighteen wheelers not only throw a ton of crap on you, they also have a tendency to suck your bike towards them in the vortex their mass creates in the wind. Not only were we fighting the wind from hell out of Texas, but we were fighting that as well. A hell of a way to develop arm and back muscles.

I tossed the offending shield into the back of the truck where it remained the rest of the trip. We stood around stretching and drinking for a while longer. The aunt said that there was a camping place in Natchitoches, Louisiana that we should stop at for the night. They had a pool and showers and a little Mexican restaurant nearby that they swore by. Of course, a little argument ensued over the correct pronounciation of Nathitoches. I said it was Natch-e-toe-ches. The aunt said Natch-e-teaches. It was a stupid argument that probably had no bearing except the heat was playing havoc with my temperment.

Hot and surely.

I still think I was right.

As my uncle rightly pointed out, it didn't matter and we needed to get down the road. Once again, we started off.

As I predicted, the june bugs and other insects must have had some sort of inter insect communications because all of them seemed to aim right for the big hole I'd left in my helmet. One in particular was so big, I saw it coming for a mile and when it reached my windshield, instead of smacking it to my satisfaction, it flew up the wind drag and came right for my face. I ducked away just in time to avoid such a fate, but it smacked the side of my helmet like a baseball at 90 mph and just about knocked me silly. That's my excuse anyway for swerving all over the road and causing the nearest bike to do the same and the chase truck to brake dangerously.

Everyone seemed to be looking in their mirrors to see if I'd gone "heat stroke", too. Frankly, I can't imagine what I would have looked like had the little bastard actually succeeded in making it through the hole and smacking my face. Probably would have had a black eye which would have just topped off the entire trip.

We finally made it to the camp site after 8 hours of riding. When we stopped, I didn't even want to get off the bike, I was so exhausted. I just hit the kill switch and sat there, my whole body vibrating as if I was still fighting the wind, the bugs, the grinding road and the vibration of a motorcylce that may never have taken that sort of ride before.

The poor dear. But it was holding up. Thank God, because my dad had repeatedly warned me that an air cooled rice burner with 850 cc's might not react kindly to the heat and the long runs. I think the stops every 1.5 hours helped it maintain. If it had died, I would never have heard the end of it.

Finally, I was roused enough to get off and start setting up camp. I had this feeling that, if I didn't do it now, later I wouldn't want to after the pure exhaustion had set it. Everyone else was doing the same in anticipation of hitting the little Mexican restaurant, coming back for a shower and lying down on a flat surface that didn't move.

As I began to search for a viable place to set up the tent, I noticed that our campsite was crawling with critters. Not just any critters: red ants. If you don't live in an area where red ants are prevalent, you may not understand the intense hatred I had for the little buggers. We didn't call them "fire ants" for nothing. In those movies we seen as a kid, where the guy is buried up to his neck in an ant hill by the indians waiting his fate, it was red ants that were his demise. I can't imagine a worse way to go.

You see, this is why I say Dante didn't know jack shit about purgatory or the other 8 circles of the inferno. If he had, he would have included red ants, 18 wheelers, stinging sun block and Mexican restaurants on "two-fer" nights along with the raging heat in his inferno.

Hot pokers in the privates? Whatever, dude. That's like Six Flags over Alaska comparatively speaking.

Finally, we were done with the camp set up. I did my best to set up the tent in an "ant free" zone, but that was pretty limited choices. I shook out the sleeping bag as best as I could and zipped up the tent in hopes of fending off invaders. My bro and cousin Mikey had abandoned their campsites to their wives and traipsed off to the little gas station next door in search of some juice to drink. They came back as we finished up, laughing it up a little.

"Man," Mikey said, plopping into his camp chair, "you should have heard these guys in the gas station."

"Yeah," bro added, "very funny." I'm not sure he was quite as amused.

Mikey went on, "We were standing in the back of the station getting juice and this trucker came into pay for his gas. He must have seen us pull in or something. He was telling the clerk to spread the word that some "ignorant ass bikers" were over here and they needed to keep their trucks locked. Should have seen his face when we walked up behind him." Mikey was still chuckling.

The rest of us were stunned for a moment. Me, too. Moi? Ignorant ass biker? I beg to differ with balding beer bellied trollers of truck stop lizards. I am quite certain that I do not qualify as an "ignorant ass biker". At least, I did at that time. I preferred to see myself as your average middle class American having an "adventure" on a bike. Oh, how 10 days in the inferno will change your attitude. Particularly, when one must constantly fight the ignorant ass truckers for space on the road.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have all sorts of folks in my family. Some of them are even truckers. But, when you got several tons of steel behind the wheels, pulling a small house, sometimes, just sometimes, truckers don't see your little 500lb bike.

That and the fact that we WERE a middle class extended family with very little criminal history (I'll explain that someday). It wasn't them that needed to worry, but us.

After a few more seconds of stunned silence, we all started laughing. Now that was a hoot. The Henry clan, complete with biker chic mommas and brand new chase vehicle scared the crap out of some truckers (evil laughter here). We decided to adopt it as our little motto: the I.A.B. We were going to have it emblazoned on our jackets as our "colors". I.A.B. that is. We weren't actually going to spell it out. It was going to be an inside joke. I am quite certain no other group had it.

Finally, we trooped over to the Mexican restaurant across the truck stop parking lot. We laughed pretty loud and kept discussing the I.A.B. Making it into the restaurant was like getting a reprieve from hell. Suddenly, it was air conditioned. I felt the cool blood rush to my head and was almost dizzy for a minute. It took them a few moments to get us some tables near each other. For the first time, I ate at a restaurant that did not put tables together for out group, but insisted that we have two separate ones in order to keep their floor "clear".

Whatever. We were hungry. Starving even. Our lagging appetites earlier due to the heat came back in full force after the refreshing rush of air conditioned air. I noted that Margaritas were on special for a dollar so I ordered one with my food. Honestly, I can't remember what I ate. I do remember the Margaritas. When they came out with two giant mugs per person (everyone else deciding to indulge as well), we were all kind of shocked.

It was "two for one" Margaritas for a buck. Hell of a way to scare up business (and they were packed).

I gulped down the first half of my first margarita with a basket of chips and salsa. At that point, I realized that the Margarita's were kind of strong. Very mouth puckering. I couldn't tell if it was the cheap tequila or the sweet n sour they used. Still, I couldn't resist and finished it up before the meal was out.

Now, you may start thinking here, as I was surely unable to do due to the baked brains I was suffering from, that, drinking Margaritas with little food on your stomach and being severely dehydrated from the heat, regardless of the amount of water drank, is not a brilliant idea. As a matter of fact, if you are looking for a cheap drunk, I highly recommend it. On the other hand, you could say it is down right "stupid".

Fortunately, we were only walking a block. Still, I didn't feel it yet.

The food came out and I gulped down Margarita number two with whatever Mexican food thingy, accompanied by rice and beans, I was devouring. My cousin's wife didn't feel like drinking the rest of hers so she asked if I wanted Margarita number three, which I acquiesced to without blinking an eye lid. I hadn't noticed yet that the rest had stopped drinking theirs, too.

We got done and I generously paid the bill for our table, aunt and uncle doing the same. As much as everyone was supposed to bring, I knew that the trip was tight for the rest of them and I had a little more money after selling off "old Bess" to some gentleman that were only interested in her four wheel drive.

We left the restaurant. I was still feeling fine, right up to the moment we walked outside and the hot winds of hades blasted us in the face. That and about ten steps was enough to make me start feeling suddenly loopy. I laughed the first time I stumbled. Everyone laughed, too and joked about my walking versus driving abilities. Halfway to the campsite about a block away, I was really feeling my cheerios. I was laughing. Loudly. Stumbling often and, to the slight embarrassment of the family, repeating the words, "ignorant ass bikers" as we passed the rows upon rows of diesels parked behind the truck stop.

They dragged me away quickly, but laughingly. I don't think any of them had had the privilege of seeing me blasted before.

I remember sitting in my camp chair at the site and feeling the world spinning. It was still so damned hot. I wanted to put on my shorts, but just couldn't pull it together. Suddenly, I found my self slipping out of the seat and in need of the solid earth below me. I leaned against the chair, but it gave no support. I laid face down on the ground, without a blanket, and put my head on my arms.

Why wouldn't this freaking earth stop spinning?!

I recall everyone laughing and telling me to get up. Then I heard one of the girls trying to whisper something about getting the camera. I was drunk, but I wasn't that damned wasted and I sure as hell did not want that picture accompanying us back to civilization. Who knows what sort of blackmail these people could get up to?

Still, I really didn't feel like gravity was my friend as yet. Mikey's wife was calling my name over and over, trying to get me to look. I could see the aunt's feet standing near by, ready to snap a picture for posterity. I decided to give them one and raised up one hand high enough to flip them the bird.

It wasn't even 8pm. That was certainly a new record for me.

I plopped back down and listened to everyone talking. The heat had been a killer that day. They started talking about getting up earlier and getting down the road to beat some of the heat. We were already getting up at 7 AM and that was rough enough considering I was on vacation. I said so, loudly. I'll be damned if I'm getting up before the sun. Drink more water, you freaks.

Er...don't mind me, I'm drunk. An argument ensued. Half the camp wanted to wake up at 5:30 AM. Some suggested six. Me, I just kept saying "no". I don't really know what for, but I had set my mind that they weren't waking me up that damned early. No. Nada. Never.

The argument continued for sometime, getting more and more intense. Now they were saying something about going on to Pensacola from Gulf Port. As I pointed out earlier, we didn't really have time or money for an extended trip. The boys kept saying something about just another few hours down the road. I pointed out that it was at least five hours additional one way. It couldn't be done in a day and also enjoy any of the sites they wanted to see and another day was impossible. Everyone kept arguing and my head started pounding.

Finally, I stumbled up and said I was going to go lay down..in the quiet. It wasn't dark yet and that was a bummer, but I was going to lay down anyway. Far away. I stumbled over to the tent and zipped myself inside, intent on on shedding the overalls and pulling on my shorts. It was even hotter inside the tent. Reminded me of those old movies with the Indian sweat lodge. Drunk as I was, I didn't feel the need for purification right then so I upzipped the tent, dragged the sleeping bag outside to find a breeze. Any breeze. Even if it was hotter than the winds of hell.

I laid down face first. I heard Mikey and my bro insist that, while the rest of us were stopping in Gulf Port, they were going on to Pensacola. They wanted to see the dolphins and some place that looked like a sand castle. The tawdry amusements of us poor folks. Everyone seemed to be parting on angry terms.

Well, that was certainly a shitty way to end a hellish day.

"Kat," a disembodied voice said as a toe nudged me, "you need to get up and go into your tent."

"Uhhh? Mmmmfff...mmoommmff." My tongue did not work and the voice in my head was bleary. Like me.

"You need to go in your tent." Again, voice waking me from the dead.

"No. No move." Was that me sounding like a bad Indian from a John Wayne movie?

"Suit yourself, but I think you're going to be sorry." Annoying voice.

"Too hot. Sleep here. Go away."

I fell asleep as the annoying voice faded away.

Sweet oblivion.

How little I understood the divine comedy of life. Dante was a putz. What the hell did he know about hell? Nine circles of hell? I could do that on my worst day and still have something left over.

I could teach that scribbler a thing or two.

He should have gone down to Louisiana in August.

Try it, then you'd find out what a cheap hack he was. Better yet, make sure you take about eight other members of your immediate family with you. Don't forget to stand around for eight hours in the heat, add in some ants, some Mexican food and Margaritas. Make sure your entire family is onery and contrary.

I dare you.

Chicken?

Summary only...

Interesting Referrals From Google

As I finished up Wednesday's post, I decided to check my referral log for the hell of it. I get some interesting referrals form search engines.

One of the most popular appears to be some pictures I posted from AP regarding the Beslan attack. The search engine always says: Russia - Dead Children. And the pictures of the WWII memorial where the placque reads "Before the sunsets."

What a nice way to get referrals.

Then there was that really interesting one from a translation machine that translated my "libertine vs. liberal" post. This evening I see someone actually googled it in English. In those exact terms and got my post. Word must be spreading.

Bwaahahahaha. My clandestine revolution to change the world is underway. No one can stop me now. At least two people have read that post and one of them was Chinese.

Another referral this evening was "tipping point theories" which I quote intensely in my discussions of our efforts in the middle east, including discussions of oil, cost of war and a whole post all by itself on the application of the "tipping point" in the region. That's a nice referral, too.

However, I do wonder how in the hell I came up under a search for "backwoods ass f*****g niece". I think I'm offended.

Okay, I know I've used the "f" word in a number of posts as an adverb and an adjective on a number of occassions and I've definitely said "ass". I might have claimed to be a niece. And one of my posts did reference the "backwoods" of Arkansas.

But, seriously, I don't recall stringing those words together in one sentence. Until now, that is.

Somebody tell Google they suck.

Summary only...

Notice of Continued Series

If you are looking for day 4 of "Beverly Hillbilly Bikers", please stand by for Wednesday's post. Next chapter: Dante Apparently Never Visited Louisiana in August.

In the mean time, see the posts below for serious discussion on same sex marriage and the post below that regarding strange phone calls in the middle of the night.

Thank you.

Summary only...

Same Sex Marriage: Follow Your Nose

Tuesday, Kansas residents will go to the polls, much as seventeen other states have done, and vote on a constitutional amendment that defines "marriage" as between one man and one woman. This has also been a source of debate on our national political landscape.

To date, the debate has been covered in the main stream media as one of emotions, from both those that oppose and those that support it. In reviewing the information from both sides, I would say that there has been something missing from our public discourse on the matter. At least from the side of the "opposition", though, the supporters (or, at least, those that are ambiguous on the matter as "no skin off their backs") have mentioned these issues a few times, but the opposition has succeeded in framing the argument to their constituents general comprehension of the matter: feelings; morality; nature and sin. The supporters of same sex marriage have been equally lax and drawn into the debate on matters of discrimination and morality.

It is, without a doubt, true that many people base their ideas concerning certain political and social issues on "feelings" whether they be left or right, pro or con, your average citizen knows just enough about issues to rattle them up against their general idea of life and make a decision. Of course, a good portion don't go beyond that to look at details before making their decision.

With that in mind, I dare say that my discussion of the matter will engender quite a bit of "feelings" as opposed to reasonable thought, but I decided to take up the gauntlet anyway.

Colombo used to say, "I followed my nose" when resolving a case. In this case, the stench arises from hidden topics: money, law and slippery slopes.

Go to the inner sanctum for additional discussion.

First, one must have an idea about what proportion of people are directly affected by these discussions.

About 3% of the population is estimated to be homosexual. This would put the number at approximately 9 million in America alone. That number may be extremely conservative considering the nature of surveys and the topic itself.

Within that population, there is an unknown number that subscribe currently to a monogamous relationship of a longterm commitment. If we follow some comparisons that show homosexuality follows the same basic rules of the population in education, income, race, etc, and common rules regarding heterosexual relationships apply, some where around 80% of that population would consider marriage and at least 50% would make long term commitments.

If all rule sets apply.

In which case, we are talking about at least 4 million people that would enter into a legally binding relationship on a longterm basis and another 3 million would enter into a legally binding relationship that might end after a number of years. Applying also the rule sets of heterosexual relationships regarding divorce.

This is a relatively small part of our population in percentage points, but represents a definitive portion of money in our economy as their own subset of society.

A few things that would be affected would include, but not limited to:

Health Insurance: Legal same sex couples would be eligible to place their partner on their health insurance as a dependent. This has two monetary impacts:

1) While "family" benefits are fairly expensive, even purchased through an employer, policy holder "plus one" dependent benefits are considerably cheaper than two individuals holding and paying their own policies. On a yearly basis, estimating the difference to be somewhere around $10/mo per premium paid. If all rule sets apply then at least 2 million people will pay $10/mo less if legally recognized. If we calculate this to its end, 2 million X 10.00 X 12 months = 240 million a year in lost revenue for health insurance agencies. That number could go up or down depending on the number of same sex marriages entered into and could be compounded by additional legal relationships that may result in any recognizable status as applied by the state. I'll address that momentarily, but on to the second issue...

2) It stands to reason that a number of people not previously covered by health insurance will be so covered. At the rate of STDs within the community as well as other health issues across all population stratum, the rate of payout for services will exceed the amount of premiums paid, thus compounding losses.

In general, it is the state that picks up the tab for uninsured patients. That means that the average tax payer pays for treatments for the uninsured. This spreads the cost out among all contributors. However, if same sex marriages are recognized, it will be the average worker who does have health insurance that will feel it anyway through increased premiums. This would spread the cost out to even less of the population. This is IF same sex marriages or civil unions are held down to only this population. Again, I'll address this under "legal" issues and the "slippery slope".

Social Security and Medicare Benefits: These benefits are usually provided to only three types of people related to the payer of the taxes into these benefits. That would include the payer, the spouse and children. Except Medicare where said benefits are only transferable to the spouse. Under same sex relationships, this would add somewhere around 20k more recipients per year who would receive some form of benefits even if the spouse never worked a day. In both benefits, this could mean pay outs of nearly 152 million a year in social security (based on average pay out) and approximately 200 million a year in Medicare benefits. Without any or with minimal contributions from the receiver.

Income tax, however, could bring in an additional 1.2 billion in revenue if 2 million actually had two working partners with incomes that would be subject to the approximate tax responsibility of your average heterosexual couple. However, none of this revenue would make it into the treasuries of the most vulnerable programs: social security and Medicare.

It is, without a doubt, private industry that would suffer the greatest. Home mortgage companies that, even today, will give a loan to a couple without the benefit of marriage, also see these co-ops as "high risk" and are more likely to give a legally bound and recognized couple a loan. In general, this may widen the customer base and most people would see this as a benefit to the mortgage companies, but to them, it doesn't change the risk so much as moves the figure from one bucket to another where they would have to consider giving such couples a loan or be considered "discriminatory". The question is: does same sex marriage lower or increase the risk? Again, leaving it to just the impact of the homosexual community, the impact is probably not as large nor ominous.

Assumptions of loans, leases and other financial concerns would be drastically changed. Certainly, there are other industries that would be impacted, though I won't go into a long list because I want to address a few legal issues.

In the court of law, a spouse is not obligated to testify against the other spouse, holding that all discussions between two such people are indeed considered to have the expectation of privacy. Same sex marriage would certainly give some protections to people that do not currently have the law to do so.

Inheritance issues could be clarified or just as likely muddied.

A spouse could be considered an appropriate person give custody of children, access to trust funds, legal control of assets, etc, etc, etc.

Let us not forget the recognition of potential adopters of children. Leaving alone the moral issue, legally and quantitatively, this opens up another huge group of competitors for a small resource.

In essence, our legal system would require a great deal of review and reconsideration to accommodate such a practice.

But, again, leaving the question of same sex marriage to homosexual couples alone and their potential impact on a legal system that may be dealing with such issues already outside the boundaries of legal bonds, would be incredibly narrow and short sited.

In essence, codifying or recognizing same sex marriage does not limit the practice to potential homosexual couples. Looking at the whole gamut of benefits that arise from a legal same sex union, it is not over reaching to imagine the number of legal bonds that could and would take place to take advantage of these benefits.

It is quite possible and even probably that the same advantage is already being taken by heterosexual or opposite sex couples. While marriages of convenience are no longer de rigour it does not mean that they do not occur. In opening the boundaries for same sex marriage, this could mean an even greater number of people that could and would enter into short term contractual relations in order to take advantage of these benefits, circumvent the legal actions, or consolidate legal standing in regards to guardianship of children, access to property, etc, etc, etc.

Marriage, or legal recognition thereof, does not demand any proof that the relationship is of longterm or for an emotional reason such as love. In the court of law, it is a procedural matter, established by legal documents and, in very few cases, the assignation of motive for such a contractual relationship could not and would not enter the legal landscape.

Today, these issues are not part of the larger debate. Our debate continues to focus on morality, the meaning of a word and feelings. Both sides refuse to address the long term and expanded impact of allowing the legal and financial impact to enter the debate for their own reasons.

Certainly, the homosexual community wants to keep this focused on their rights as citizens and the issues that impact their community including what they and many of their supporters see as discrimination under the law and in society. Aside from the moral debate, this is an issue that has yet to be resolved. If they allow the debate to include the other financial and legal impact on a broader portion of the population to be discussed, it might lead to a loss of coherence and even support from those that feel for their situation.

The opposition continues to frame the debate on moral grounds largely because that is what a great deal of the heterosexual community understands. Discussions of future legal and financial impact are too dry and, frankly, uninteresting to the general population. Your average citizen is not thinking about the contractual, legal and financial problems of fifty or thirty years from now when many more people outside of the homosexual community begin to take advantage of these changes (maybe even less time). From most people's perspective and based on how they view society today, where same sex legal bonds are not acceptable or part of normal society, they probably cannot imagine society would change in so dramatically.

So, this point of reference is left largely undebated and unsaid but by a few pundits, politicos and legal professionals. It is certainly nothing that you hear on your television or read in the news papers. This is left to the emotional issues of morality, feelings and discussions of discrimination.

For those who would subscribe to the theory that the questions I raise are, in fact, over reaching and improbable, I would like to mention a few items that are considered social norms today (although, some still highly contentious) that were not so in the last century:

1) Inter racial relationships. Nothing wrong with this, but certainly 50 years ago, it was not acceptable and even proscribed by law. Today, those laws have been struck down and, in general, inter racial couples are not shunned nor discriminated against under the law.

2) Divorce. Only someone living under a rock would not know the basic statistics of divorce have seen an incredible increase in the divorce rate to a mind boggling 50% of married couples. Fifty and even forty years ago, this was not an acceptable societal norm. Today, it has its own legal and financial impact, forcing new rules regarding current spouses versus previous spouses or even estates, benefits, and government benefits regarding no current spouse but multiple divorced spouses.

3) Out of wedlock births. This has increased substantially as well and has certainly lost any consideration of censure by the public. It has also led to financial and legal burdens not fore seen at the time that normalization was being pushed. Child support, paternity suits, benefits, custody, welfare are just a few of the areas impacted by this elevation to societal norm. Forty and thirty years ago it was frowned upon and thus had a relatively low occurrence.

4) Abortion. Again, thirty years ago it became a matter of public and legal discourse. While it certainly had benefits in the control of reproduction cycles for women and thus "freeing" them to be "equal" with their male counterparts in the sexual revolution, the increase in abortions exponentially year over year and decade after decade has made it a "societal norm" and thus keeps it legal (if still in our minds due to controversy). This "freedom" has certainly impacted more than a woman's ability to control her body, it has contributed directly to the idea that relationships do not have to be long term and that certain acts will not lead to responsibility, thus impacting people's ideas on marriage and divorce.

In no case am I mentioning these issues to open debate on them to muddy the debate on our current topic, but to clarify exactly what we do not want to talk about:

Above and beyond the issues of homosexual relations, recognition of same sex "marriage" or "civil unions" or "contractual bonds", or whatever one wants to refer to it as, there is a matter of what society will look like in twenty, thirty or fifty years once it becomes common (societal norm), the emotional aspects are largely done away with and it only remains in the legal and financial landscape, what is the larger impact of accepting these practices?

On gut instinct, addressing only the emotional aspects, my first thoughts are, "Why not? Why not allow couples of whatever sex to be recognized and cement their bonds?"

The other, reasoning side of me asks, "What is the actual scope of the impact beyond morality and feelings? Where does the recognition end and the legal and financial aspects explode?"

In turn, that leads me to a question, even as a single person, that is slightly emotional, but still related to statistics: If in thirty years, contracts of such a nature are accepted and entered into for purposes beyond this recognition of an emotional bond on a regular basis (as will surely come to pass under procedural law), what does it mean for the concept of "marriage"? What will the statistics look like? How many additional broken homes, problem children, etc does that leave us with and can we deal with that socially, legally and economically?

Certainly, the other issues I comment on have eventually worked themselves into our legal codex yet leaves us with a greater and greater burden, socially, legally and economically. I am certain the questions would be dealt with, but at what cost?

I am also certain that I'll be attacked on the grounds that I either appear to support or oppose the issue depending on who reads it and from what side of the table they are addressing it from.

So be it.

I think that it is time we had some rational debate, don't you?

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Strange Phone Calls In the Middle of the Night.

So, I'm typing up my post for Tuesday and it's late, about 12:51 AM and I'm thinking I need to hurry up and go to bed. At which time, the phone rings.

The caller ID says "private", but it is 12:51 AM so I assume what any normal person assumes at that time when they have no one that they would be expecting to call at that time: emergency.

I picked up the phone: "Hello?"

A female voice on the other end that I did not recognize: "Kat.....?"

Well, there are only a few people in the world that call me by my full first name and I work with them, so I gear down from "familial emergency" to "crap, the computer at work crashed" which is just about the only reason any work related person would call me in the middle of the night.

Me: "Yes?" I still have no idea who I am speaking to.

The woman proceeds to confuse the hell out of me, "Do you know a Russ?"

"Pardon?" What the hell does that have to do with work?

"Are you dating anyone named Russ?" Now I am really trying to recognize the voice because I am wondering if this is a friend or a relative that got a disturbing call from somebody and wanted to know if I knew them. At least, that is the quick succession of thoughts running through my head.

"No. Who is this?" I have no clue.

There was silence for a moment as if considering answering that, "I just wanted to know if you knew Russ. Do you know a Dave?"

Okay. Now I am thinking "prank call". What the hell? But the voice on the other end was not a teenager's voice. It was definitely a mature woman and she didn't sound drunk. "No. I don't know a Russ or a Dave. Who is this?"

Is it too much to ask who is calling you in the middle of the night, calling you by your full name and asking if you are dating someone?

"I just wanted to know if you were dating a Russ or a Dave. Thanks anyway." Click. She hung up.

After a few minutes, my own history came back to me and I realized what the woman was doing. If you don't read this blog regularly then you don't know the story of my roommate Tracy, the two guys we met and the persistent phone calls she made to 10 phone numbers in the white pages looking up every Paula or P Smith in a certain township to find out if the guy she was seeing (the other guy's brother) was really broke up with his girlfriend or lying through his teeth. On call number 9 she successfully reached Paula Smith and found out, not only were they still dating (up to that moment anyway), but his brother, Bernie or Ernie or whatever, who kept bugging me for a date was married and his wife was 9 months pregnant.

Ahhhh.

I'm unlisted by the way. Although, I have recently found that you can find me on the internet, lock stock and barrel. For a small fee you could have my financial and criminal (non existent) background along with an email address. If you're reading this, you too can be found on the world wide internet and not just on this blog providing people have enough information about you such as your first name and city you live in.

So, I feel the need to address Russ or Dave or whatever name he is going by in a public space.

Sir, please inform your girlfriend/wife that you do not know me.

Secondly, if you are cheating on her and were stupid enough to let slip a name or write it down somewhere, the jig is up. Confess your sins and you may be absolved. Or, you may end up like some other infamous cheaters with appendages detached. It matters not to me except that phone calls from a distraught woman in the middle of the night do not put me in a very fine mood. Thus, removed appendages are sounding better by the moment.

Lastly, if by some bizarre chance you have my phone number hanging around (how, I don't know considering I don't recall ever giving it to anyone named Russ or Dave in the last two years I've had the number), please dispose of it immediately or at least explain to said girlfriend/wife that it was a typo, wrong number, whatever.

Thank you. Your actions in resolving this matter will be greatly appreciated.

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Aunt B*tchy starring at Blonde Sagacity 

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Are You a South Park Republican?

Southpark Republican 

Via My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy

Make your own south park character.

[Need help? Since you can’t save the pic directly from the SP character generator, do a screen capture and paste it into a graphics editor, crop the page down to just the picture, and save as jpg/gif.]

Look below for my South Park portraits of blog friends (Republican and Democrat). If I've missed anyone, my apologies. It was getting late (my excuse anyway). Just drop me a line or do your own and send me a link.

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Ala at Blonde Sagacity 

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Riceburner at Blonde Sagacity 

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Tesco at Blank Forever 

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Paul at Be That 

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Redleg jumping out of perfectly good planes 

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Jericho Brown at Left Write 

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G-Man at GG Thoughts 

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Kitty guest starring at Blonde Sagacity comments 

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Alix guest starring at Blonde Sagacity comments and her own blog Alix in Wunderland 

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Jinxy aka Jen at Strangely Unbalanced 

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Free0352 guest starring at Blonde Sagacity comments 

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Ciggy and Cancer World 

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Kender and Kender's Musings 

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The Pope Has Died: Pope John Paul II 1920-2005

The Life of Pope John Paul II

Popes of the Catholic Church: 264 Histories

Simon, known as Peter, was the first head of the Catholic Church. If you know the story of Christ, Peter was an apostle, brought to Jesus by his brother Andrew. He was a fisherman as was his brother. Aside from the miracle on the mount, where Jesus multiplied the fish and bread to feed the multitudes, the fact that these apostles were fisherman in the Sea of Galilee has led to the common term for priests and other religious leaders as "fishermen of men's souls".

Simon, also called Peter, was the apostle who carried the sword in the garden when the soldiers from the temple came to take Jesus away. Simon struck off the ear of one of the soldiers and Jesus heals the soldier and tells Simon to put away his sword.

Later, Simon called Peter, fulfilled Jesus's prophesy by denying Jesus three times before the cock crowed.

But, it was Peter who later led the church to its first expansion, urging the other apostles to spread the word. He was captured and taken to Rome upon his demand that he was a Roman citizen and could only be tried there. While he waited in Rome, Peter wrote many letters to the church's followers, urging them to follow the example of Jesus, to obey authority, but always do what was good and right.

Peter was crucified upside down in Rome.

Here you can read the rights and rituals of the Papal succession Papal Succession

This paragraph explains the first acts:

When the Pope dies, the head of the Sacred College of Cardinals, or Camerlengo, verifies the death. Standing over the deceased, he calls the pontiff by his baptismal name three times. Upon receiving no response, he announces the death and arranges for the Fisherman's ring -- inscribed with the name of the reigning pope -- and papal seal to be broken. Later, another ring will be made for the newly elected pope.

The Pope has died. The world mourns a great man, a servant of the people, a man of peace and good will.

There are three messages I always find comfort in. The first is that there is life after death and that the Son of God raises us up with him to heaven.

Ephesians 2:6

He also raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavens, in Christ Jesus,

John 6:39

This is the will of Him who sent Me: that I should lose none of those He has given Me but should raise them up on the last day.

The second message reminds us that we should not be sad or "lament" the passing of a loved one, but should rejoice that they will now be in God's presence.

John 16:20

Verily, verily, I say unto you, That ye shall weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy.

And the last message:

John 16:22

And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.

The promise of meeting again.

Until then, we will miss a good man. Let's hope those who come after him have half his will, his stamina and his love of God and peace.

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Breast Cancer Foundation: Comment For A Cure

Leave a comment at California Hammonds to raise money for the breast cancer foundation. You might save a life today. 

While visiting one of my favorite military blogs, Sean from Doc In the Box pointed to a fund raising activity at the California Hammonds. I received confirmation from Wood Not Wood and directions on posting a link.

Greg lost his wife to breast cancer last year on April 1. That's a cruel joke by any means. Since then, he has posted the story of his family, their struggle and his wife losing her battle with this devestating disease. Earlier this year he held a commentathon that netted about $3 grand.

This year they are hoping to double or triple that amount.

Please go to California Hammonds and leave a comment. There will also be a donation button if you are able.

After everything else, this has reminded me that there is value to life and we can help insure that advances in treatments, cures and maybe, someday, prevention.

I have a personal interest in this cause.

Early in 2001, my step mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was quite a shock to our family.

I was living with my dad and step mom at the time. I was searching for a house to buy and they were letting me stay with them so I could put together the down payment and closing costs. When she came home from the doctor and said that they had "found something" and they wanted to do a biopsy our family went into a bit of denial.

I think everyone does.

I remember reassuring her over and over again that we should wait until all the tests were done before jumping to any conclusions. I thought she needed that. I know I needed that.

I suppose I should explain that my step mom isn't just my dad's wife. She and I have been friends for a long time. She married my dad when I was 20. I was old enough to be a pain in the butt and a know it all, but also trying to be mature in understanding that my dad had someone else in his life. Even at 20 that can be difficult.

As I grew older and wiser, my relationship with her changed. Like I said, she wasn't just my dad's wife, she was sometimes my confidant when my dad and my real mom were driving me crazy, together or individually. My dad had also had some health problems and we had commiserated and given each other strength and a harbor to vent in when things got rough. We would often have long philosophical discussions about life, politics, religion and many commiserating commentaries about work.

Yet, there we were in 2001 and she was the one that was ill. The biopsy came back positive for malignant cancer and they suspected the lymph nodes. After multiple discussions, a lumpectomy was decided upon along with the removal of lymph nodes that were affected under the arms. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment were to follow. I didn't know how scared she was until she asked if I would go with her and my dad to a "patient's meeting" at the clinic where she would receive her treatments.

Did I mention I work in the healthcare field? I am in administration, but I was a pharmacy tech way back in the beginning of my career as well as a customer service representative that had many dealings with patients receiving chemotherapy treatments in a home setting so I was familiar with terminology, delivery and treatment aspects. I knew about the drugs they were going to give her and the side effects.

At the patient meetings they discussed some of the issues as well as nutritional aspects. The clinic had a "holistic" approach and didn't just do "chemotherapy and radiation". They understood that the patient's mind set and general mental health were important to the healing process.

I won't go through the entire year and a half of treatments and check ups. I will tell you the basics:

She became very sick. The drugs and the radiation often made her very nauseaus. Food didn't taste right. She had high blood pressure and early onset diabetes and was tempted (more than tempted by I yelled at her) to over salt her food or put too much sugar in it, just to be able to taste it. I worked a lot, even back then, but, when I could, I would sometimes buy special foods and cook them up with wine sauces and seasoning (minus the salt) to tempt her. Of course, dad ate it too.

She was tired. A lot. At first, the concept didn't sink home. I think both my dad and I, while thinking we knew and were prepared, didn't really understand the extent of the exhaustian. Not just from the disease or the treatment, but from the constant worry. Her family had several people that died of cancer. Historically, it wasn't as if the odds were in her favor genetically.

Fortunately, when the tests came back, the type of cancer cell that was involved had a high success rate of remission.

It's called "remission" because, even if you get tested over and over and no sign appears for a long time, if ever, there is always a chance that it will come back. Lack of cancer after treatment isn't really a "cure" since recurrence is a high probability. So, it is called "remission".

She was cranky. Yes, I can say that. She knows it. Most of the time we did okay rubbing along, understanding the issues, but, unless you are the sufferer, you really can't relate.

She was emotional. The drugs and the strain played havoc with her hormones. Once in awhile I'd come home from work and she'd be watching TV and crying over something silly or some small contretemps would make her upset.

She lost her hair. She had been very proud of her hair. It was a very pretty brown color with hardly any gray in it. When it started falling out she went to wearing hats and bandanas. After awhile, she said "to heck with it" and went around bald. We laughed about it sometimes. I can tell you at that moment your perception of "beauty" as an inner quality gets defined.

She kept working. As much as she could. Her job was pretty understanding when she would get her treatments she was tired and would need a day off or two. Otherwise, she kept working. Mainly because they needed the income, but I think there was a huge part of it that was about being "normal" and keeping "busy". Those were the times when she liked to hear my "work survivor" stories the most.

In the end, she was a survivor. A year later she was pronounced "in remission". The university that she worked for sponsored a marathon to raise money for the Breast Cancer Foundation. The first lap was made by the survivors who came in droves. Each survivor could have a family member walking with them on the lap. My step mom has her own children from a previous marriage, but she asked me to walk with her. We made the first mile lap. I met many lovely survivors, some incredibly great and strong ladies at this marathon. They were all interested in meeting everyone and talking to people about their stories and the need to help other women, to insure that the survival rate from breast cancer became 100%.

I should mention that this is not just a "woman's" disease. There were several men there who had survived "male breast cancer". I always wonder how many people know that?

What was very cool was that my step mom introduced me around as her daughter and many people already knew who I was because she had bragged about me. You can't get much cooler than being bragged about by a survivor of breast cancer.

Every year I make a donation to the Breast Cancer Foundation.

Greg's wife wasn't as lucky as my step mom. Every year more women are cured, but just the same, some are not. Please help find a cure for breast cancer by going to California Hammonds and leaving a comment and/or donatation if you can.

You might save somebody's life today.

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