The New York Times today ran a story pointing out some of John McCain’s inconsistencies between his rhetoric and his actions. These comparisons are, of course, fair game and should be carefully scrutinized. The article goes into great detail (and after topping out at about 3,000 words, one might say too much detail) about past ethical liberties taken by McCain. Although the timing of this article should not raise many eyebrows, the initial attack on McCain in the story's lead certainly has. It puts me in the unenviable position of defending McCain and, to a much lesser extent, criticizing the New York Times. Indeed, the Times should be getting used to questions about its judgment.
The article is ostensibly about where McCain’s loyalties lie: With the lobbyists or his constituents. It is a question that should be asked of any public servant. However, the Times didn’t lead with the possible inconsistencies of McCain; they lead with innuendo. Sexual innuendo… unproven and categorically denied rumors of infidelity from the 2000 presidential campaign, to be precise. Of course the story cited “unnamed” or “anonymous” sources, a metaphorical fire that has burnt the Times before. But even if the sources were reporting the truth, the truth they are reporting is only allegations… even the sources don’t know if an inappropriate relationship existed. Yet the Times, in their infinite wisdom, lead with this old and largely discounted rumor.
In the Times defense, the alleged alleged affair was used to segue into a more pressing issue - McCain’s judgment regarding appearances and assumptions. It proceeded to look at some instances that would portray McCain as a “business as usual” politician - and at a time when he would like to be viewed as a reformer. His experience, like Hillary Clinton’s, shows that the lure of the lobbyist’s money has more pull than any desire - genuine or not - to truly change the rules. McCain-Feingold did change the campaign cash game… but only after McCain had availed himself of it for many years. But all of that has little to do with the deliberate and direct attempt by the Times to sully McCain’s reputation.
The strange thing is that the Times didn’t need to drag up dead issues from the past. Let’s get real here - all 3,000 or so words of the Times epic was old news. All of it. Why not take a closer look at McCain’s current position on - oh, I don’t know… maybe the war. Although it is true the war has faded in prominence behind the economy, it is still moving along as if on autopilot (a thinly veiled commentary on the intelligence behind the entire affair), it is also true that McCain is the only viable candidate that would not only “stay the course,” but also quite probably accelerate it. A presence in Iraq for 100 years? He said that - and recently, too.
As I sit here composing my thoughts, I can hear the lead story coming from Brian Williams on the NBC Nightly News on the TV in the next room. Guess what it’s about? That’s right, but the story has morphed. Although McCain has not escaped the innuendo, the story is now joined at the hip with the one regarding the Times’ agenda. If the goal was to shed light on McCain’s questionable judgment, then they have succeeded in that endeavor. But at what cost? Can the Times really afford another hit to its already failing reputation? Perhaps the nation’s de facto agenda setter is losing its grip on the real world. Maybe its judgment has become just as clouded as those they are questioning.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Surprise, surprise!
It’s not that I haven’t been following the goings on in this presidential race. My silence on the president’s State of the Union Address isn’t indicative of complacency or disinterest necessarily. No, it’s more of an acknowledgement that there have been no real surprises. Everyone involved, from the candidates to the pundits to the president himself have behaved entirely predictably… and as such, I have not been compelled to say much. I knew I would, for in this race, history will be made - I was just waiting for something a little more compelling than the painfully obvious to write about.
Tonight, it has happened. But before I get to the event the got my literary juices flowing once again, let us briefly look at what should have surprised no one - the race thus far. Actually, on second thought, that is a somewhat unfair characterization, for there have been numerous paradigmatic changes in this race compared to those of the recent past. However, these watersheds are not particularly surprising and inasmuch as there is a very good chance that a white male will not win the presidency, it was bound to happen sooner or later. For now, let’s let that stand on it’s own… we’ll come back to it shortly. Further, let us not dwell on the also-rans on the Republican ticket. There are often some of these secondary players hanging on at this point in the game - and after H. Ross Perot’s challenge and withdrawal in 1992, nothing short of that kind of showing is even noteworthy.
Although, I must say I like Ron Paul’s prodding of the Republican establishment…
I’m talking about politics as usual. It's the euphemism for “anything goes” in campaign mudslinging and right up to and through the January 30 Republican debate, there have been no surprises there. Even the withdrawal of Rudy Giuliani and his endorsement of McCain isn’t particularly shocking, however newsworthy it may be. Of course, the sniping between Romney and McCain wasn’t pretty, but it was certainly expected. Oh sure, it is interesting, exciting and even amusing to witness the turn of fortune in McCain’s campaign and the consternation it has caused those among the extreme right, but it’s not entirely surprising… it is still very early. Next Tuesday will likely be the end of Romney and the others on the Republican side, but don’t bet the farm on it - there are no sure bets.
It appears as though McCain might have served Romney a sucker punch before the Florida primary, but it is clear that he has the momentum to get away with it. Romney’s crying foul probably didn’t sway anyone. He called it a “dirty trick,” and you can be sure there’s more where that came from. And don’t believe for one minute that Romney is above that kind of race. This is a race for the most powerful office in the world - kicking sand in one’s opponent’s eyes is an accepted form of campaigning. Remember, negative campaigning works. And although it might be surprising that the Republican Party, or at least its candidates for president, would continually shoot itself in its collective foot, let us not discount the lure of power.
Which brings us to tonight’s surprise - a remarkably civil exchange between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton at the Democratic debate. While it is true that there is precious little differentiating the two at the policy level, the predictable sniping of late between the camps - and particularly the very un-presidential like mudslinging of our former president, has become noticed. That is a surprise. Not so much that the press has picked up on it or even that “the people” are talking about it, but that the candidates themselves have taken note. And they have changed their behavior - at least for the moment. It was a refreshing change and if the détente can be sustained, it will unite the Democratic Party like never before. Indeed, the most egregious slights came from the moderators themselves.
Now a little about the history-making aspect of this campaign: It is very likely that a woman or an African American will be residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue next January. It is all but guaranteed that one or the other will be the Democratic nominee. That speaks volumes, and if I might add, it’s about time we got past it. I can say I will not be voting for a man - no matter his color, or a woman… I will be voting for a candidate. Right now, it is likely it will be a Democrat, but it is way too soon to make that decision. The Republicans haven’t got any real idea what the people want. They were not listening to us in 2006 and I can say with certainty our voices will be even louder in 2008.
Surprises? Perhaps, and good news to boot, but when looking at the incompetence over the last eight years, not entirely so. The best part is the death knell of the neo-con. They had eight years to prove how right they were. We will be paying for their little experiment for generations. All that’s left is that pesky little legacy the Bush administration never talks about much anymore.
No surprises there.
Tonight, it has happened. But before I get to the event the got my literary juices flowing once again, let us briefly look at what should have surprised no one - the race thus far. Actually, on second thought, that is a somewhat unfair characterization, for there have been numerous paradigmatic changes in this race compared to those of the recent past. However, these watersheds are not particularly surprising and inasmuch as there is a very good chance that a white male will not win the presidency, it was bound to happen sooner or later. For now, let’s let that stand on it’s own… we’ll come back to it shortly. Further, let us not dwell on the also-rans on the Republican ticket. There are often some of these secondary players hanging on at this point in the game - and after H. Ross Perot’s challenge and withdrawal in 1992, nothing short of that kind of showing is even noteworthy.
Although, I must say I like Ron Paul’s prodding of the Republican establishment…
I’m talking about politics as usual. It's the euphemism for “anything goes” in campaign mudslinging and right up to and through the January 30 Republican debate, there have been no surprises there. Even the withdrawal of Rudy Giuliani and his endorsement of McCain isn’t particularly shocking, however newsworthy it may be. Of course, the sniping between Romney and McCain wasn’t pretty, but it was certainly expected. Oh sure, it is interesting, exciting and even amusing to witness the turn of fortune in McCain’s campaign and the consternation it has caused those among the extreme right, but it’s not entirely surprising… it is still very early. Next Tuesday will likely be the end of Romney and the others on the Republican side, but don’t bet the farm on it - there are no sure bets.
It appears as though McCain might have served Romney a sucker punch before the Florida primary, but it is clear that he has the momentum to get away with it. Romney’s crying foul probably didn’t sway anyone. He called it a “dirty trick,” and you can be sure there’s more where that came from. And don’t believe for one minute that Romney is above that kind of race. This is a race for the most powerful office in the world - kicking sand in one’s opponent’s eyes is an accepted form of campaigning. Remember, negative campaigning works. And although it might be surprising that the Republican Party, or at least its candidates for president, would continually shoot itself in its collective foot, let us not discount the lure of power.
Which brings us to tonight’s surprise - a remarkably civil exchange between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton at the Democratic debate. While it is true that there is precious little differentiating the two at the policy level, the predictable sniping of late between the camps - and particularly the very un-presidential like mudslinging of our former president, has become noticed. That is a surprise. Not so much that the press has picked up on it or even that “the people” are talking about it, but that the candidates themselves have taken note. And they have changed their behavior - at least for the moment. It was a refreshing change and if the détente can be sustained, it will unite the Democratic Party like never before. Indeed, the most egregious slights came from the moderators themselves.
Now a little about the history-making aspect of this campaign: It is very likely that a woman or an African American will be residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue next January. It is all but guaranteed that one or the other will be the Democratic nominee. That speaks volumes, and if I might add, it’s about time we got past it. I can say I will not be voting for a man - no matter his color, or a woman… I will be voting for a candidate. Right now, it is likely it will be a Democrat, but it is way too soon to make that decision. The Republicans haven’t got any real idea what the people want. They were not listening to us in 2006 and I can say with certainty our voices will be even louder in 2008.
Surprises? Perhaps, and good news to boot, but when looking at the incompetence over the last eight years, not entirely so. The best part is the death knell of the neo-con. They had eight years to prove how right they were. We will be paying for their little experiment for generations. All that’s left is that pesky little legacy the Bush administration never talks about much anymore.
No surprises there.
Monday, January 21, 2008
MLK Day
Although his actual birth date was January 15, 1929, today we commemorate the birthday of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. There is little argument about how much King did for the civil rights movement in the U.S. Through righteous non-violence, he coerced a nation into looking at its collective behavior, and to be ashamed of it. He put a spotlight on the inconsistencies that no one, white or black, was willing to talk about. He illuminated for all to see that not very long ago, in this one nation, under God - all men were not created equal. The shroud that hid the hypocrisy of what we said we stood for was stripped away by showing the world what we did.
King was silenced by an assassin’s bullet in Memphis on April 4, 1968. He was just 39 years old. Some are prone to reflect on what he did, others lament that there is much is left to do. Still others wonder what the world would be like if he was not struck down in his prime. All are perfectly worthy means of reflecting on his life and consequently, raising our awareness - black, white or otherwise, about who we are and who we want to be. Indeed, did our founding fathers get it right?
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
If so, what is so hard about letting go of our identification with external appearance? We’re not just talking about the pigment of one’s skin, but hairstyle, clothing, weight, sex and even height. These external characteristics are irrelevant to who we actually are, and should not be taken into consideration when we dole out civil rights. But we do. Even though legislation has effectively criminalized the kind of overt racial discrimination that King fought against, covert discrimination happens everyday, day in and day out. It happens in ways that can’t be legislated against. It happens in attitude, in judgment and in society.
King wrote extensively and eloquently. His speeches are the stuff of legend. As a writer, I am ever in awe of his skill as a wordsmith. It was just one sentence in an essay he wrote in April 1963 that sold me on the power of the written word. The essay, “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” was a response to an open letter written by eight Alabama clergymen that urged civil rights leaders to practice restraint and patience… to let the courts provide a remedy for “racial problems.” At the same time, these clergymen claimed to sympathize with the civil rights cause. King would have none of it. In the great tradition of responding with well thought out and extremely well written words, I offer you this, my favorite sentence of all time.
... But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.
That, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is one powerful statement. It is, at 311 words, one of the longest grammatically correct sentences around. Why so long? So King could show how smart he is, to give those eight clergymen some schooling? No, it is reflective of his lost patience. The length is symbolic of the length of the battle, the complete lack of empathy from those who claim to support his cause and how little their statement meant. And let us not forget where this letter was written. The entire essay is much longer and, if I may say so, riveting. Although I had read of it in various classes in school throughout the years, it wasn’t until 2003, 40 years after it was written, that I had occasion to read it in its entirety.
Google it, read it, live it. It’s a good way to remember a man who meant so much.
King was silenced by an assassin’s bullet in Memphis on April 4, 1968. He was just 39 years old. Some are prone to reflect on what he did, others lament that there is much is left to do. Still others wonder what the world would be like if he was not struck down in his prime. All are perfectly worthy means of reflecting on his life and consequently, raising our awareness - black, white or otherwise, about who we are and who we want to be. Indeed, did our founding fathers get it right?
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
If so, what is so hard about letting go of our identification with external appearance? We’re not just talking about the pigment of one’s skin, but hairstyle, clothing, weight, sex and even height. These external characteristics are irrelevant to who we actually are, and should not be taken into consideration when we dole out civil rights. But we do. Even though legislation has effectively criminalized the kind of overt racial discrimination that King fought against, covert discrimination happens everyday, day in and day out. It happens in ways that can’t be legislated against. It happens in attitude, in judgment and in society.
King wrote extensively and eloquently. His speeches are the stuff of legend. As a writer, I am ever in awe of his skill as a wordsmith. It was just one sentence in an essay he wrote in April 1963 that sold me on the power of the written word. The essay, “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” was a response to an open letter written by eight Alabama clergymen that urged civil rights leaders to practice restraint and patience… to let the courts provide a remedy for “racial problems.” At the same time, these clergymen claimed to sympathize with the civil rights cause. King would have none of it. In the great tradition of responding with well thought out and extremely well written words, I offer you this, my favorite sentence of all time.
... But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.
That, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is one powerful statement. It is, at 311 words, one of the longest grammatically correct sentences around. Why so long? So King could show how smart he is, to give those eight clergymen some schooling? No, it is reflective of his lost patience. The length is symbolic of the length of the battle, the complete lack of empathy from those who claim to support his cause and how little their statement meant. And let us not forget where this letter was written. The entire essay is much longer and, if I may say so, riveting. Although I had read of it in various classes in school throughout the years, it wasn’t until 2003, 40 years after it was written, that I had occasion to read it in its entirety.
Google it, read it, live it. It’s a good way to remember a man who meant so much.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
45
Ok, I’m up now. Almost 1:30 p.m., and I’m up and about. It is not the first, or second or even third time I have been up today, but this time I’m staying up. Sleep has been a dubious luxury of late… my time has been stretched to the limit, but for now I am caught up. There is more coming - there’s always more coming, but for now I can take a little breather. Maybe I can get my equilibrium back. Perhaps tonight I can get to bed at a reasonable hour and sleep all the way through the night.
It’s a rainy, gloomy and wet December day in Sacramento. I have only two essays, a take home final, a photography portfolio and a column (this column) left to complete before I graduate with honors from California State University, Sacramento with a Bachelor of Arts degree in government-journalism. December 22 will be the pinnacle of a quest that has taken me to places both far and wide - figuratively and literally. It has been a quest that has spanned no less than 25 years. Today I turned 45.
Milestones such as these are cause for reflection and these sleepless nights are due in part, I am sure, to some of that. However, with the rapidly approaching conclusion of my undergraduate career, it is also a time to look forward. It is a time for optimism, but with uncertainty comes a certain degree of trepidation. I have been comfortable these past few years. Indeed, I know how to be a student. (Some may say it’s about time, but that’s a story for another time.) This uncertainty isn’t limited to my own future and where my path will lead me next - indeed, there are a multitude of good ideas and only a handful of bad - but in many respects it is spawned by a general restlessness that can be felt throughout the world.
Closer to home, there is an upcoming presidential election. Our nation is in dire need of competent leadership. This time there are more candidates than I can ever recall running and I cannot say that any of them is giving me much hope. We are in the midst of a housing crisis the magnitude of which, the experts say, is unprecedented - and the worst is yet to come. The nation is polarized based of false ideology where the most significant difference between Republicans and Democrats is how they spell their party’s name. And then there’s that pesky little undeclared war that has claimed nearly 4,000 American soldiers’ lives and maimed countless others.
More than entering the work force to begin yet another career, I am asking myself what I can do beyond making a living. In 45 years, I have seen some bad times and I have seen some good. The nation and the world are at the same time both better off and worse. We have taken a thousand steps forward in places and in others our feet have remained firmly anchored in cement. The United States has grown more powerful and prosperous than any other nation in recorded history - and in record time. I have seen nations built and borders dissolve, heroism and tyranny, compassion and cruelty. The question still remains: What can I do?
Although the answer isn’t anywhere near crystal clear, one piece of it absolutely is - write about it. If not for those of us running the show today, perhaps for our children who will be steering us tomorrow. For our grandchildren who will be paying for our foibles and for anyone who is a seeker, thirsty for perspective, hungry for knowledge - the words, other's and mine, will be there. We did not achieve what we have due to our own brilliance. It came from the generations upon generations of our predecessors. Where we gleaned their knowledge and wisdom, we have thrived and where we have failed to study their mistakes, we have failed miserable.
What can I do? Maybe it means nothing today, but perhaps my children, my grandchildren and countless generations of successive great grandchildren will benefit from my experience written here and elsewhere. By myself and by others. By the scribes, the philosophers, the thinkers and the journalists.
Maybe they will read what I wrote.
On this wet, rainy, gloomy December day in Sacramento.
On my 45th birthday, 6 December 2007.
It’s a rainy, gloomy and wet December day in Sacramento. I have only two essays, a take home final, a photography portfolio and a column (this column) left to complete before I graduate with honors from California State University, Sacramento with a Bachelor of Arts degree in government-journalism. December 22 will be the pinnacle of a quest that has taken me to places both far and wide - figuratively and literally. It has been a quest that has spanned no less than 25 years. Today I turned 45.
Milestones such as these are cause for reflection and these sleepless nights are due in part, I am sure, to some of that. However, with the rapidly approaching conclusion of my undergraduate career, it is also a time to look forward. It is a time for optimism, but with uncertainty comes a certain degree of trepidation. I have been comfortable these past few years. Indeed, I know how to be a student. (Some may say it’s about time, but that’s a story for another time.) This uncertainty isn’t limited to my own future and where my path will lead me next - indeed, there are a multitude of good ideas and only a handful of bad - but in many respects it is spawned by a general restlessness that can be felt throughout the world.
Closer to home, there is an upcoming presidential election. Our nation is in dire need of competent leadership. This time there are more candidates than I can ever recall running and I cannot say that any of them is giving me much hope. We are in the midst of a housing crisis the magnitude of which, the experts say, is unprecedented - and the worst is yet to come. The nation is polarized based of false ideology where the most significant difference between Republicans and Democrats is how they spell their party’s name. And then there’s that pesky little undeclared war that has claimed nearly 4,000 American soldiers’ lives and maimed countless others.
More than entering the work force to begin yet another career, I am asking myself what I can do beyond making a living. In 45 years, I have seen some bad times and I have seen some good. The nation and the world are at the same time both better off and worse. We have taken a thousand steps forward in places and in others our feet have remained firmly anchored in cement. The United States has grown more powerful and prosperous than any other nation in recorded history - and in record time. I have seen nations built and borders dissolve, heroism and tyranny, compassion and cruelty. The question still remains: What can I do?
Although the answer isn’t anywhere near crystal clear, one piece of it absolutely is - write about it. If not for those of us running the show today, perhaps for our children who will be steering us tomorrow. For our grandchildren who will be paying for our foibles and for anyone who is a seeker, thirsty for perspective, hungry for knowledge - the words, other's and mine, will be there. We did not achieve what we have due to our own brilliance. It came from the generations upon generations of our predecessors. Where we gleaned their knowledge and wisdom, we have thrived and where we have failed to study their mistakes, we have failed miserable.
What can I do? Maybe it means nothing today, but perhaps my children, my grandchildren and countless generations of successive great grandchildren will benefit from my experience written here and elsewhere. By myself and by others. By the scribes, the philosophers, the thinkers and the journalists.
Maybe they will read what I wrote.
On this wet, rainy, gloomy December day in Sacramento.
On my 45th birthday, 6 December 2007.
Monday, December 3, 2007
DRUGS
It must be drug awareness season again. Periodically, it seems, a rash of public service announcements from the likes of the Partnership for a Drug Free America begin to flood the media outlets. Don’t get the wrong idea; this is very definitely a good thing. Drugs are bad, they do bad things and something has to be done. The timing is just curious, that’s all.
At the same time, the documentaries are hitting the airwaves. Some are new pieces about old problems - others are old pieces about current problems. The names and the faces have changed, but the destruction hasn’t. Nor has the knee-jerk reaction to the problem that is, by all accounts, growing exponentially.
Now is not the time to rehash the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of the “War on Drugs” or Nancy Reagan’s ever-so effective “Just Say No” campaign. It’s not so much about the virtues of legalization, of incarceration or rehabilitation. I’m afraid I just don’t have any answers - I’ll leave that up to the experts and the (gulp) politicians.
I have, however, been around the block once or twice in my nearly 45 years on the planet, and that gives me a considerable amount of experience. It’s not all about the dope or the prisons or the crime created by the epidemic or the families destroyed by drugs (alcohol included), it’s about political consistency and the ability to change one’s mind.
I don’t like the government telling me what to do. I never have and I doubt that is going to change anytime soon. There are a number of political labels I could adopt, but it would be highly issue dependent and completely irrelevant. Suffice it to say that I don’t believe the government has any business regulating what I put in my body - even if it will kill me. I believe that to be my right.
Ok, I can hear it now. "He’s one of those guys who want to legalize everything so he can smoke pot all day." Well, perhaps once upon a time that would have been a fair, yet baseless accusation, but I haven’t smoked anything in a very long time - and I like my lungs nice and pink, thank you very much. Despite the preceding and despite my adamant stance against government intervention of this sort, I am not now for the legalization of any drugs.
It used to be the perfect solution - and so simple. Legalize drugs, tax them, regulate them and take the criminal component out of the picture. It was Utopian naiveté at its best.
Drugs are bad. They do bad things to even good people and even if legally available, the psychosis and addiction they introduce brings about an element of crime that is random, senseless and completely self-generated. And, yes, statistics show that alcohol and other drugs are involved in the vast majority of violent crime - especially domestic violence. Never mind the lack of productivity and the social costs.
Drugs are bad. Even marijuana. It robs our youth of their motivation and contrary to popular belief, it does lead to other drugs - not that pot isn’t bad enough by itself. Medicinal use? There probably is a legitimate one, but not the way it is administered in California.
And now, according to a report from the Partnership for a Drug Free America, about one third of teens and only slightly fewer adults think taking prescription pain medication recreationally is safer than illicit drugs. Extrapolation: It is safe.
Drugs are bad. So is locking up drug offenders. Treatment works and the trends seem to be moving more in that direction. There are, however, no easy answers and once violence or other crimes beyond simply using the drugs comes into the picture, well, there has to be some accountability. I used to think it was so simple…
Drugs are bad.
At the same time, the documentaries are hitting the airwaves. Some are new pieces about old problems - others are old pieces about current problems. The names and the faces have changed, but the destruction hasn’t. Nor has the knee-jerk reaction to the problem that is, by all accounts, growing exponentially.
Now is not the time to rehash the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of the “War on Drugs” or Nancy Reagan’s ever-so effective “Just Say No” campaign. It’s not so much about the virtues of legalization, of incarceration or rehabilitation. I’m afraid I just don’t have any answers - I’ll leave that up to the experts and the (gulp) politicians.
I have, however, been around the block once or twice in my nearly 45 years on the planet, and that gives me a considerable amount of experience. It’s not all about the dope or the prisons or the crime created by the epidemic or the families destroyed by drugs (alcohol included), it’s about political consistency and the ability to change one’s mind.
I don’t like the government telling me what to do. I never have and I doubt that is going to change anytime soon. There are a number of political labels I could adopt, but it would be highly issue dependent and completely irrelevant. Suffice it to say that I don’t believe the government has any business regulating what I put in my body - even if it will kill me. I believe that to be my right.
Ok, I can hear it now. "He’s one of those guys who want to legalize everything so he can smoke pot all day." Well, perhaps once upon a time that would have been a fair, yet baseless accusation, but I haven’t smoked anything in a very long time - and I like my lungs nice and pink, thank you very much. Despite the preceding and despite my adamant stance against government intervention of this sort, I am not now for the legalization of any drugs.
It used to be the perfect solution - and so simple. Legalize drugs, tax them, regulate them and take the criminal component out of the picture. It was Utopian naiveté at its best.
Drugs are bad. They do bad things to even good people and even if legally available, the psychosis and addiction they introduce brings about an element of crime that is random, senseless and completely self-generated. And, yes, statistics show that alcohol and other drugs are involved in the vast majority of violent crime - especially domestic violence. Never mind the lack of productivity and the social costs.
Drugs are bad. Even marijuana. It robs our youth of their motivation and contrary to popular belief, it does lead to other drugs - not that pot isn’t bad enough by itself. Medicinal use? There probably is a legitimate one, but not the way it is administered in California.
And now, according to a report from the Partnership for a Drug Free America, about one third of teens and only slightly fewer adults think taking prescription pain medication recreationally is safer than illicit drugs. Extrapolation: It is safe.
Drugs are bad. So is locking up drug offenders. Treatment works and the trends seem to be moving more in that direction. There are, however, no easy answers and once violence or other crimes beyond simply using the drugs comes into the picture, well, there has to be some accountability. I used to think it was so simple…
Drugs are bad.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Way of the Dinosaur
With Christmas shopping now in full swing, maybe now is not time to think about the shopping experience. No, with consumers on autopilot and the mad rush now on, it is probably not a good time to examine a concept that is disappearing faster than a stack of $200 laptops at 4 a.m. on Black Friday.
Customer service.
What?
Yes, customer service… it’s often all that we will remember come April when the holiday shopping adrenaline has finally worn off. Good customer service is getting scarcer all the time while bad, or non-existent customer service has become the norm. Remember when there were no “self-service” gas stations? Not only was gas less than $1 per gallon, but the attendant did it all - washed the windows, checked the oil and tire pressure… oh, and put the gas in the car too.
Today, gas stations don’t even say “self-service” anymore - it’s assumed.
It used to be that knowledgeable and friendly sales people assisted us in identifying what the right product was - and left us alone when we were just looking. Now they will read what’s on the box and tell us where the checkout is. Stores have become warehouses, parking lots need shuttle service and shopping carts have a two-ton capacity. And let us not forget the “food court.”
There used to be customer loyalty. Sometimes there still is.
I used to buy my groceries at Safeway. The store was large, but not too big, close by and the employees knew me and were always friendly. They did not have the best prices, but they were fair and I don’t mind paying a little more for a pleasant shopping experience. Unfortunately, the “customer-service” people sitting in some cubicle in some corporate office felt it necessary to get involved in what was otherwise a perfectly harmonious relationship.
At the time, I wrote checks to pay for my groceries - usually about $300 per week, every week. Due to a bank error, one of my checks bounced. Safeway put it right back through and it cleared - the bank straightened out their mistake and got the funds back into my account. I was happy, the bank was happy… but someone at Safeway was not happy. They felt that one check - one of about 100 such that went through without any problem - was worth $25 to them.
After explaining there was an error at the bank, my “customer service representative” asked me to get a letter from the bank stating that they had indeed made a mistake. They might as well have told me my word was worthless. I made them a little deal: You forget the $25, and I’ll continue to spend $300 per week there. After being put on hold so a manager could be consulted, the customer service representative told me that Safeway was willing to go the extra mile and credit me… $5.
I have been shopping at Raley’s ever since. Every week for more than 3 years, Safeway has lost whatever the profit on $300 is.
It is not at all uncommon. Perhaps retailers have become too big. Maybe the cost/benefit analysis shows competent customer service is a waste of money. It is not universal - there are still some businesses that remember where their money comes from, but many seem to have forgotten.
The sad part? Safeway doesn’t care. And neither do too many other retailers. Now with Internet shopping where there is no human contact at all, finding competent customer service is getting even more elusive. Unfortunately, many of us do not demand or even expect to be served with courtesy and respect. It has gone the way of the full-service gas station…
Check your oil today?
Customer service.
What?
Yes, customer service… it’s often all that we will remember come April when the holiday shopping adrenaline has finally worn off. Good customer service is getting scarcer all the time while bad, or non-existent customer service has become the norm. Remember when there were no “self-service” gas stations? Not only was gas less than $1 per gallon, but the attendant did it all - washed the windows, checked the oil and tire pressure… oh, and put the gas in the car too.
Today, gas stations don’t even say “self-service” anymore - it’s assumed.
It used to be that knowledgeable and friendly sales people assisted us in identifying what the right product was - and left us alone when we were just looking. Now they will read what’s on the box and tell us where the checkout is. Stores have become warehouses, parking lots need shuttle service and shopping carts have a two-ton capacity. And let us not forget the “food court.”
There used to be customer loyalty. Sometimes there still is.
I used to buy my groceries at Safeway. The store was large, but not too big, close by and the employees knew me and were always friendly. They did not have the best prices, but they were fair and I don’t mind paying a little more for a pleasant shopping experience. Unfortunately, the “customer-service” people sitting in some cubicle in some corporate office felt it necessary to get involved in what was otherwise a perfectly harmonious relationship.
At the time, I wrote checks to pay for my groceries - usually about $300 per week, every week. Due to a bank error, one of my checks bounced. Safeway put it right back through and it cleared - the bank straightened out their mistake and got the funds back into my account. I was happy, the bank was happy… but someone at Safeway was not happy. They felt that one check - one of about 100 such that went through without any problem - was worth $25 to them.
After explaining there was an error at the bank, my “customer service representative” asked me to get a letter from the bank stating that they had indeed made a mistake. They might as well have told me my word was worthless. I made them a little deal: You forget the $25, and I’ll continue to spend $300 per week there. After being put on hold so a manager could be consulted, the customer service representative told me that Safeway was willing to go the extra mile and credit me… $5.
I have been shopping at Raley’s ever since. Every week for more than 3 years, Safeway has lost whatever the profit on $300 is.
It is not at all uncommon. Perhaps retailers have become too big. Maybe the cost/benefit analysis shows competent customer service is a waste of money. It is not universal - there are still some businesses that remember where their money comes from, but many seem to have forgotten.
The sad part? Safeway doesn’t care. And neither do too many other retailers. Now with Internet shopping where there is no human contact at all, finding competent customer service is getting even more elusive. Unfortunately, many of us do not demand or even expect to be served with courtesy and respect. It has gone the way of the full-service gas station…
Check your oil today?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Pushing Daisies - A Prophetic Title
Ned, the piemaker, has an odd gift - he can make dead things, people included, come back to life simply by touching them. Of course, there is a catch (there’s always a catch). ABC’s new series, “Pushing Daisies,” is based upon this minor technicality and how Ned (Lee Pace) deals with it.
“Pushing Daisies” is the latest creation from Bryan Fuller whose credits include “Dead Like Me” and “Wonderfalls.” It is a somewhat dark comedic drama in which Ned and his maladjusted cohorts solve murders by bringing the victims back to life - for one minute.
Like the legendary King Midas and his golden touch, Ned must be very careful how he administers his magic touch. If he touches the recipient again - ever - they will die again, this time permanently. And if he does not touch them again within one minute, someone else nearby - randomly selected, apparently - will die. But the original once dead person must still avoid Ned’s repeated touch for eternity.
There are holes in this premise, but hey it’s TV, it’s certainly solid enough for the small screen.
With all the basic pieces of the plot in place, the fun can begin. Ned first brings his dog, Digby, back, but can never touch him again. Funny.
What if Ned were to bring his childhood sweetheart’s dead body back to life to solve her murder? What if he couldn’t bring himself to touch her again before her minute was up? According to the rules, someone must die. The sacrificial “random” lamb? A corrupt funeral home director - it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
But the zaniness doesn’t end there. Ned and his now very much adult, long lost, childhood sweetheart Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles (Anna Friel) fall in love all over again, but they cannot touch. Add to the mix the unrequited love of Olive Snook (Kristin Chenoweth), Ned’s neighbor and employee at his pie shop, The Pie Hole, and the possibilities are endless.
In the meantime Ned and his partner, Emerson Cod (Chi McBride), a private investigator who accidentally discovered Ned’s strange talent, and Chuck are the only persons who know of Ned’s odd gift. Of course, Chuck is a source of friction between Ned and Emerson. Of course.
Throughout the show, the familiar voice of narrator Jim Dale, in his trademark “Christmas Special” manner, fills in the details.
“Pushing Daisies” is amusing at times and frustrating at others as it takes a whimsical, if not entirely original look at death and redemption. The characters are offbeat and quirky, but then they almost have to be. The story line is simple and the plots only slightly less so. Although it might be a good way to kill an hour once a week, it probably hasn’t got the legs or the cuteness to carry it beyond more than a few episodes.
“Pushing Daisies” is the latest creation from Bryan Fuller whose credits include “Dead Like Me” and “Wonderfalls.” It is a somewhat dark comedic drama in which Ned and his maladjusted cohorts solve murders by bringing the victims back to life - for one minute.
Like the legendary King Midas and his golden touch, Ned must be very careful how he administers his magic touch. If he touches the recipient again - ever - they will die again, this time permanently. And if he does not touch them again within one minute, someone else nearby - randomly selected, apparently - will die. But the original once dead person must still avoid Ned’s repeated touch for eternity.
There are holes in this premise, but hey it’s TV, it’s certainly solid enough for the small screen.
With all the basic pieces of the plot in place, the fun can begin. Ned first brings his dog, Digby, back, but can never touch him again. Funny.
What if Ned were to bring his childhood sweetheart’s dead body back to life to solve her murder? What if he couldn’t bring himself to touch her again before her minute was up? According to the rules, someone must die. The sacrificial “random” lamb? A corrupt funeral home director - it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
But the zaniness doesn’t end there. Ned and his now very much adult, long lost, childhood sweetheart Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles (Anna Friel) fall in love all over again, but they cannot touch. Add to the mix the unrequited love of Olive Snook (Kristin Chenoweth), Ned’s neighbor and employee at his pie shop, The Pie Hole, and the possibilities are endless.
In the meantime Ned and his partner, Emerson Cod (Chi McBride), a private investigator who accidentally discovered Ned’s strange talent, and Chuck are the only persons who know of Ned’s odd gift. Of course, Chuck is a source of friction between Ned and Emerson. Of course.
Throughout the show, the familiar voice of narrator Jim Dale, in his trademark “Christmas Special” manner, fills in the details.
“Pushing Daisies” is amusing at times and frustrating at others as it takes a whimsical, if not entirely original look at death and redemption. The characters are offbeat and quirky, but then they almost have to be. The story line is simple and the plots only slightly less so. Although it might be a good way to kill an hour once a week, it probably hasn’t got the legs or the cuteness to carry it beyond more than a few episodes.
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