Whether you believe the accusations of sexual misconduct by Herman Cain or his protestations of innocence, the tempest at long last shines a light on his tenure as head of the National Restaurant Association. Contrary to a NY Times article last Thursday suggesting Cain has no legislative or political track record, the former CEO of Godfather’s Pizza has an extensive history of anti-working class positions.
As the chief lobbyist for the NRA and before that as an influential member and president of the trade group, Cain diligently worked to oppose minimum wage hikes, health care provisions for workers, and other progressive legislation. He championed libertarian causes. As someone who allied the NRA with tobacco interests, it is not surprising he did not object to the recent ad on his Web site featuring chief of staff Mark Block smoking a cigarette.
I know Cain appeals to voters as a supposed Washington outsider. Plus, his career as a motivational speaker provides him a glibness not found in almost all of the other candidates. I am perplexed, however, how anyone who has looked into his record, or listened to his ill-considered responses to questions, could support him, unless they were millionaires or regressive thinkers. The presidential primary run is intended to flesh out a candidate’s thoughts, yet Cain has indicated he will limit public speaking engagements so as not to self-inflict foot-in-the-mouth disease with erroneous or flawed thoughts.
Cain is an interesting diversion, but clearly he is not able to be, or capable of being, president of the United States.
Can You Hear Me Now? The other day while washing my hands in a local office building’s public restroom, a man came in to use the facilities and continued a business conversation on his cell phone. I was astounded.
Sometimes my cell phone rings in a public restroom. If it’s a family member, I’ll reluctantly answer. But I’d never answer for anyone else. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I just don’t understand how anyone would conduct a business call in a public bathroom. How would you explain that gushing sound from the next stall? Has our collective etiquette been flushed down the toilet?
Winter Wonderland?: Not exactly, given all the broken tree limbs from the late October snowfall that hit the northeast. Even before the storm I was amused to see at least two locations, one a residence, the other a professional office building, decked out in Christmas lights. Halloween had not yet passed. Gimme a break.
Speaking of Halloween, once again my best laid plans to provide candy to the trick-or-treaters came up short. Only one kid ventured out Monday night, and she came at 8:30! Perhaps it was the snow, or the down power line halfway up the block that scared away the little beggars.
Back to Christmas, I’ll go on record again as being against plans by retail companies to prime customers to rush to their stores on Black Friday, or in this year’s case, at midnight at the end of Thanksgiving Day. Sure, there will be many too-good-to-pass-up sales, which in turn will cause some to literally crush the competition (i.e., other customers) on their mad rush to scoop up as many bargains as possible. We’ll be lucky if no deaths or serious injuries befall any customers or store personnel, as happened a few years ago at a Wal-Mart in Valley Stream, NY.
Most people’s wallets are hurting, given the high unemployment and their reduced buying power. It’s understandable they will be enticed by sharp deals. But why must we as a society condone and perpetuate behavior akin to beasts tearing at the flesh of prey? Why must we turn our holidays into a circus of greed and animus toward fellow shoppers?
Aside from the depravity retailers encourage among customers, they also subject their staffs to work conditions most of us would not tolerate if we had a choice. How many among us want to leave our families to work on national holidays, or start a shift at midnight? I guess when most store personnel are working at minimum wage or just slightly better they have little choice but to accept the assignment, even if it’s at time and a half.
It all makes for good television news spectacle, crowds gathered around a store, especially if the weather is inclement and their tribulations are multiplied. Many TV reports will try to divine a sales trend. Black Friday, however, years ago stopped being a harbinger of holiday season sales. Now it is just a cruel manifestation of the class division that has cleaved our country. When was the last time you saw Neiman Marcus, or Bergdorf Goodman, or Tiffany, or Gump’s open for business in the middle of the night? No, the rich can shop during civilized hours. The rest of America, the 99%, must fight for discounts in the middle of the night.
A Thoughtful Goodbye: Robert Pierpoint, a longtime CBS News correspondent, died last week. He was 86. I met Pierpoint in 1972 during his tenure as a White House correspondent. His office was a little larger than a phone booth, but he invited me in to discuss the thesis of a term paper I was researching for my master’s degree in journalism. I always appreciated his hospitality and reporting.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Ultimate Weekend
I’m no longer Gee-Kaw.
As Finley’s speech has improved he’s getting closer to saying grandpa. For now I’m Pan-Paw. Perhaps by his second birthday in a little over two weeks I’ll officially be transitioned over to grandpa, but I’m not too sure I like the generic name. Perhaps when he gets a little bit older and can understand the concept of individual names we’ll decide to revert back to Gee-Kaw or some other special moniker. Gilda is still Gee-Gee.
I spent an ultimate weekend with Finely and Co. (his parents) in Sarasota, Fla., this past Thursday through Sunday at the USA Ultimate (Frisbee) Club Championships. For the second straight year Dan’s team, Boston Ironside, matched its undefeated tournament record against San Francisco’s undefeated Revolver. Sadly, the results repeated, as Ironside lost by an identical 15-10 score.
As I wrote last year, it’s almost harder on the friends and family of team members as we anxiously sweat out each game and the night before the championship game. We’re powerless to do anything but provide moral support, before, during and after. For Dan, and just a handful of others on the 27-man Ironside squad, this was the third time in the last four years Ironside lost in the finals. Second place in the country is no small honor, but never having tasted the Champagne of ultimate success is a bummer.
Ultimate Frisbee at the club level is a young man’s sport. At 33, Dan is the elder statesman on the team. How much longer he’ll be able to play is a question of his body and competitive spirit holding out, the number of new players challenging veterans for spots on the roster, and most importantly, the commitment Allison is willing to make to allow Dan to pursue his goal of a championship. Dan, as well, knows his obligations to Allison and Finley restrict the time he can devote to Ultimate. Aside from playing, Dan also coaches the Tufts University team.
As for me, being with Finley and his girl friend Eliot, daughter of team coach Josh and his wife Sangwa, was special. Regretably, Gilda couldn’t get away from work, so I played grandparent to both of them by myself, even babysitting one evening while both sets of parents attended a team dinner. Testing my mettle, both kids pooped, but they made up for it by going to bed exactly at 8 with nary a whimper.
As Finley’s speech has improved he’s getting closer to saying grandpa. For now I’m Pan-Paw. Perhaps by his second birthday in a little over two weeks I’ll officially be transitioned over to grandpa, but I’m not too sure I like the generic name. Perhaps when he gets a little bit older and can understand the concept of individual names we’ll decide to revert back to Gee-Kaw or some other special moniker. Gilda is still Gee-Gee.
I spent an ultimate weekend with Finely and Co. (his parents) in Sarasota, Fla., this past Thursday through Sunday at the USA Ultimate (Frisbee) Club Championships. For the second straight year Dan’s team, Boston Ironside, matched its undefeated tournament record against San Francisco’s undefeated Revolver. Sadly, the results repeated, as Ironside lost by an identical 15-10 score.
As I wrote last year, it’s almost harder on the friends and family of team members as we anxiously sweat out each game and the night before the championship game. We’re powerless to do anything but provide moral support, before, during and after. For Dan, and just a handful of others on the 27-man Ironside squad, this was the third time in the last four years Ironside lost in the finals. Second place in the country is no small honor, but never having tasted the Champagne of ultimate success is a bummer.
Ultimate Frisbee at the club level is a young man’s sport. At 33, Dan is the elder statesman on the team. How much longer he’ll be able to play is a question of his body and competitive spirit holding out, the number of new players challenging veterans for spots on the roster, and most importantly, the commitment Allison is willing to make to allow Dan to pursue his goal of a championship. Dan, as well, knows his obligations to Allison and Finley restrict the time he can devote to Ultimate. Aside from playing, Dan also coaches the Tufts University team.
As for me, being with Finley and his girl friend Eliot, daughter of team coach Josh and his wife Sangwa, was special. Regretably, Gilda couldn’t get away from work, so I played grandparent to both of them by myself, even babysitting one evening while both sets of parents attended a team dinner. Testing my mettle, both kids pooped, but they made up for it by going to bed exactly at 8 with nary a whimper.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Images of the Past
Every now and then Gilda and I engage in an intellectual discussion on the merits of ending our print subscription to the NY Times, retaining just the online version. We always wind up keeping both, not the least because of my devotion as an ex-newspaper reporter to the tactile experience of holding newsprint in my hands but also because of the serendipity of finding stories in print I most probably would not have engaged had I been surfing the Web site.
Last Sunday’s Style section provides a compelling, and for me, personal, example. I didn’t get a chance to read the section on Sunday. It lay untouched until Tuesday night as I prepared the weekly recycling pile. Before I chucked it, I checked the wedding announcements. You never can tell when you’ll see someone you know; one time I discovered the marriage of a young man who was a camper in my bunk when he was 12 years old and I was his counselor. All the other kids hated him. He must have done something right, however, to have won The Times’ wedding pic lottery. But I digress...
Back on page 19 of the 20-page section, The Times ran a story on “the lost art of the group portrait at events,” highlighted by a 10.5-by-5.5 inch photo of the guests at the recent wedding reception of Brenda Malloy and Hal Reiter (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/23/fashion/weddings/banquet-photos-put-everyone-in-the-picture-field-notes.html?scp=1&sq=hal%20reiter&st=cse).
Two things about that photo. First, I believe I know the aforementioned Hal Reiter. If he’s the guy I think he is, he’s the chairman and CEO of a major retail industry executive search firm, Herbert Mines Associates. (For those searching for the happy couple amid the group, Hal and Brenda are in the middle. He’s in shirtsleeves, she’s wearing an off the shoulder white dress.)
But more importantly, the group photo is similar to a picture that hangs on the wall of my den. It’s of the 50th Golden Jubilee dinner of the First Ottynier Young Men’s Benevolent Association at the Hotel Commodore in Manhattan on December 24, 1950. There must have been at least 500 people in this group photo, with my parents easily visible sitting two tables to the left of the dais.
Ottynier (sometimes spelled Ottynia) is a small village, a shtetl, part of an area known as Galicia, controlled over the centuries by different countries. When my father was born there 100 years ago, Ottynier was in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. After World War I it became part of Poland. The Soviet Union took over after Hitler and Stalin partitioned Poland in 1939. Germany conquered the area in 1941. Today it is in the southwest corner of Ukraine.
In 1931, Jews totaled 1,116 of the town’s 4,059 residents. Historically, Jews comprised about 25% to 40% of the population. That is, until they were eliminated by the Nazis and their Ukrainian sympathizers.
Jews began emigrating to America from Ottynier in the 19th century. Like most of their cohorts from Eastern Europe, they formed fraternal organizations, societies to help acclimate newcomers to America and to send funds to those back in the Old Country. After my father came to the United States in January 1939, he became active in the FOYMBA, eventually serving many years as its president.
In keeping with one of the founding principles of the group, to have social and cultural events, much of my parents’ entertainment activities revolved around the society. Aside from the annual dinner dance and smaller, more casual affairs, my parents had a floating monthly poker game with seven couples of their closest friends. They played penny-nickel stakes, husbands in one room, wives in the other. When I was around 10 years old they’d let me play one or two hands for either parent, in between my chore of making highballs for all who asked.
I look at that group photo almost every day. Though they don’t appear so, most of those in the picture were younger than I am today. My father was approaching his 40th birthday, my mother a mere 33 years old. Today, there are fewer than 50 members of the society who meet once a year for a deli luncheon. Most of those who attend are distant cousins of mine. It’s hard to get younger generations involved. I’m as guilty of indifference as the rest.
A young cousin from France recently visited Ottynier. Laura’s trip might be included in a French documentary about families who trace their roots back to Poland. She wrote me:
“We met an old man name Greenberg who lives in the suburbs of Kolomya now; he's more than 90 years old. He is the last living Jew from Ottynier apparently. Born there, he was hiding when the mass murders took place.
“I showed him pictures and he recognized Wolf (my uncle Willy) immediately. When I said "Fursetzer" (the original version of our name), he remembered: ‘Yes, two sons went to the USA, one before the war, the other after’.
“We went to Ottynier and met with old people. They do recall the name Fursetzer. We did not find much more. We went to the Jewish cemetery, there are almost no tombstones left. Most of the Jews of Ottynier were shot and buried there, it's a mass grave.”
Last Sunday’s Style section provides a compelling, and for me, personal, example. I didn’t get a chance to read the section on Sunday. It lay untouched until Tuesday night as I prepared the weekly recycling pile. Before I chucked it, I checked the wedding announcements. You never can tell when you’ll see someone you know; one time I discovered the marriage of a young man who was a camper in my bunk when he was 12 years old and I was his counselor. All the other kids hated him. He must have done something right, however, to have won The Times’ wedding pic lottery. But I digress...
Back on page 19 of the 20-page section, The Times ran a story on “the lost art of the group portrait at events,” highlighted by a 10.5-by-5.5 inch photo of the guests at the recent wedding reception of Brenda Malloy and Hal Reiter (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/23/fashion/weddings/banquet-photos-put-everyone-in-the-picture-field-notes.html?scp=1&sq=hal%20reiter&st=cse).
Two things about that photo. First, I believe I know the aforementioned Hal Reiter. If he’s the guy I think he is, he’s the chairman and CEO of a major retail industry executive search firm, Herbert Mines Associates. (For those searching for the happy couple amid the group, Hal and Brenda are in the middle. He’s in shirtsleeves, she’s wearing an off the shoulder white dress.)
But more importantly, the group photo is similar to a picture that hangs on the wall of my den. It’s of the 50th Golden Jubilee dinner of the First Ottynier Young Men’s Benevolent Association at the Hotel Commodore in Manhattan on December 24, 1950. There must have been at least 500 people in this group photo, with my parents easily visible sitting two tables to the left of the dais.
Ottynier (sometimes spelled Ottynia) is a small village, a shtetl, part of an area known as Galicia, controlled over the centuries by different countries. When my father was born there 100 years ago, Ottynier was in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. After World War I it became part of Poland. The Soviet Union took over after Hitler and Stalin partitioned Poland in 1939. Germany conquered the area in 1941. Today it is in the southwest corner of Ukraine.
In 1931, Jews totaled 1,116 of the town’s 4,059 residents. Historically, Jews comprised about 25% to 40% of the population. That is, until they were eliminated by the Nazis and their Ukrainian sympathizers.
Jews began emigrating to America from Ottynier in the 19th century. Like most of their cohorts from Eastern Europe, they formed fraternal organizations, societies to help acclimate newcomers to America and to send funds to those back in the Old Country. After my father came to the United States in January 1939, he became active in the FOYMBA, eventually serving many years as its president.
In keeping with one of the founding principles of the group, to have social and cultural events, much of my parents’ entertainment activities revolved around the society. Aside from the annual dinner dance and smaller, more casual affairs, my parents had a floating monthly poker game with seven couples of their closest friends. They played penny-nickel stakes, husbands in one room, wives in the other. When I was around 10 years old they’d let me play one or two hands for either parent, in between my chore of making highballs for all who asked.
I look at that group photo almost every day. Though they don’t appear so, most of those in the picture were younger than I am today. My father was approaching his 40th birthday, my mother a mere 33 years old. Today, there are fewer than 50 members of the society who meet once a year for a deli luncheon. Most of those who attend are distant cousins of mine. It’s hard to get younger generations involved. I’m as guilty of indifference as the rest.
A young cousin from France recently visited Ottynier. Laura’s trip might be included in a French documentary about families who trace their roots back to Poland. She wrote me:
“We met an old man name Greenberg who lives in the suburbs of Kolomya now; he's more than 90 years old. He is the last living Jew from Ottynier apparently. Born there, he was hiding when the mass murders took place.
“I showed him pictures and he recognized Wolf (my uncle Willy) immediately. When I said "Fursetzer" (the original version of our name), he remembered: ‘Yes, two sons went to the USA, one before the war, the other after’.
“We went to Ottynier and met with old people. They do recall the name Fursetzer. We did not find much more. We went to the Jewish cemetery, there are almost no tombstones left. Most of the Jews of Ottynier were shot and buried there, it's a mass grave.”
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Blame Game
So the Republican intelligentsia, if I may be so bold to use that descriptor for the Neanderthal-thinking men and women who gave us pre-9/11-ineptitude followed by nine years of tragic war in Iraq and 10 years of tragic war in Afghanistan, are now stumbling over themselves in their haste to criticize Barack Obama for ending our combat in Iraq as of December 31, 2011, conveniently ignoring the fact Obama will be enforcing an agreement forged by his predecessor, George W. Bush the Magnificent, a pact announced during that same memorable press conference in Baghdad when an Iraqi journalist threw his shoe at the leader of the free world. He missed.
Politics being what it is and always has been, it’s the spin that counts, so it’s not too surprising to find the GOP cranking up the latest stanza in its long-playing song, “Who Lost ?,” as in Who Lost China?, Who Lost Cuba?, Who Lost Vietnam?, Who Lost Iran?.
Safe to say, Republicans have no qualms tagging Democrats for all those losses. Moreover, despite their mismanaging the Iraq and Afghani wars from 2002 through 2008, they are sure to blame Obama and his Democratic cohorts for anything that goes wrong there, while conveniently ignoring any of Obama’s foreign policy successes such as the killings of Osama bin Laden and Anwar al-Awlaki. How disingenuous of the Republicans to give credit to the French and British for the overthrow of Libyan strongman Muammar al-Qaddafi without recognizing the critical support America provided.
But why should we confine ourselves to chastising just our domestic politicians. How is it that under Bush we aligned ourselves with someone as duplicitous, so openly duplicitous, as Hamid Karzai? The president of Afghanistan told a Pakistani television station last weekend his country would side with Pakistan should it ever engage in a military conflict with the United States or India, both countries with strategic ties to Afghanistan.
Though he has now backtracked, claiming to have been “misinterpreted,” Karzai’s open display of ingratitude for the U.S. investment in lives and resources puts our continued support of his regime into question. Sadly, few if any Republican voices were raised in protest, as they were too busy blasting Obama for closing down the war in Iraq.
Listening today to NPR interview John Sununu, the former governor of New Hampshire and former chief of staff of the White House under President George Bush the First, I couldn’t stop wondering what political histories these guys read. In coming out for Mitt Romney, Sununu said the best presidents are former governors because they possess executive decision-making experience, unlike Obama who was just a senator and never had to make tough choices. Sununu cited Ronald Reagan and Franklin Delano Roosevelt as presidents who acted determinedly within their political beliefs.
It’s a nice theory, but doesn’t explain how two former governors—George Bush the Second and Jimmy Carter—screwed up royally, and how such non-governors as Harry S. Truman and three-quarters of those enshrined on Mt. Rushmore (Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln) are considered among our best presidents without having ever sat in a governor’s chair.
Bottom line: It comes down to the man or woman. You don’t have to be an ex-governor, like Bill Clinton, to be a good president. You must be a good politician who has deep beliefs and values that resonate with the American people.
Regardless of who is president, often their most enduring legacy comes from their appointments to the federal judiciary. It doesn’t always turn out the way they intended—Eisenhower thought he was appointing a conservative when he chose Earl Warren to head the Supreme Court. Nixon thought the same of Harry Blackmun, as did Bush the First of David Souter.
Obama’s two Supreme Court appointments, Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan, are quality selections, but he’s left some 80 vacancies on the lower courts. Unless he nominates some judges soon, and fights for their confirmations, any hope of balancing conservative bench strength on the circuit and appeals courts will be lost. That, to me would be the real tragedy of the Obama presidency.
(Editor’s Note: For those counting, this is the 400th blog entry since No Socks Needed Anymore began September 8, 2009. My thanks to all who have stayed with me for the entire run and to those who jumped on board mid-stream.)
Politics being what it is and always has been, it’s the spin that counts, so it’s not too surprising to find the GOP cranking up the latest stanza in its long-playing song, “Who Lost ?,” as in Who Lost China?, Who Lost Cuba?, Who Lost Vietnam?, Who Lost Iran?.
Safe to say, Republicans have no qualms tagging Democrats for all those losses. Moreover, despite their mismanaging the Iraq and Afghani wars from 2002 through 2008, they are sure to blame Obama and his Democratic cohorts for anything that goes wrong there, while conveniently ignoring any of Obama’s foreign policy successes such as the killings of Osama bin Laden and Anwar al-Awlaki. How disingenuous of the Republicans to give credit to the French and British for the overthrow of Libyan strongman Muammar al-Qaddafi without recognizing the critical support America provided.
But why should we confine ourselves to chastising just our domestic politicians. How is it that under Bush we aligned ourselves with someone as duplicitous, so openly duplicitous, as Hamid Karzai? The president of Afghanistan told a Pakistani television station last weekend his country would side with Pakistan should it ever engage in a military conflict with the United States or India, both countries with strategic ties to Afghanistan.
Though he has now backtracked, claiming to have been “misinterpreted,” Karzai’s open display of ingratitude for the U.S. investment in lives and resources puts our continued support of his regime into question. Sadly, few if any Republican voices were raised in protest, as they were too busy blasting Obama for closing down the war in Iraq.
Listening today to NPR interview John Sununu, the former governor of New Hampshire and former chief of staff of the White House under President George Bush the First, I couldn’t stop wondering what political histories these guys read. In coming out for Mitt Romney, Sununu said the best presidents are former governors because they possess executive decision-making experience, unlike Obama who was just a senator and never had to make tough choices. Sununu cited Ronald Reagan and Franklin Delano Roosevelt as presidents who acted determinedly within their political beliefs.
It’s a nice theory, but doesn’t explain how two former governors—George Bush the Second and Jimmy Carter—screwed up royally, and how such non-governors as Harry S. Truman and three-quarters of those enshrined on Mt. Rushmore (Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln) are considered among our best presidents without having ever sat in a governor’s chair.
Bottom line: It comes down to the man or woman. You don’t have to be an ex-governor, like Bill Clinton, to be a good president. You must be a good politician who has deep beliefs and values that resonate with the American people.
Regardless of who is president, often their most enduring legacy comes from their appointments to the federal judiciary. It doesn’t always turn out the way they intended—Eisenhower thought he was appointing a conservative when he chose Earl Warren to head the Supreme Court. Nixon thought the same of Harry Blackmun, as did Bush the First of David Souter.
Obama’s two Supreme Court appointments, Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan, are quality selections, but he’s left some 80 vacancies on the lower courts. Unless he nominates some judges soon, and fights for their confirmations, any hope of balancing conservative bench strength on the circuit and appeals courts will be lost. That, to me would be the real tragedy of the Obama presidency.
(Editor’s Note: For those counting, this is the 400th blog entry since No Socks Needed Anymore began September 8, 2009. My thanks to all who have stayed with me for the entire run and to those who jumped on board mid-stream.)
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Religion on My Mind
Took down the sukkah today, threw out the lulav and etrog. Kind of a melancholy day, as it symbolizes the conclusion of the early fall Jewish holidays. Eight and a half weeks till Hanukkah.
Having violated several tenets of their religion, including not treating a prisoner with respect, and not washing a dead body while preparing it for burial within 24 hours, Libyans now seem to be debating what to do with the corpse of Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi. A resolution was said to be imminent.
Since Islamic law has already been shunted aside, why not cremate the body, brush the remains into a small can, place it in an airplane and disperse the ashes over the desert? That would surely please those who don’t want to make his grave a shrine, while pleasing his supporters as his ashes would be part of the Libyan landscape. A win-win for all.
It’s still uncertain who pulled the trigger that executed the Libyan dictator, and under whose authority, but it’s certain, according to the NY Times, that Libyans killed Muammar el-Qaddafi. According to the Associated Press, they killed Moammar Gadhafi. That’s the way The Wall Street Journal, the web site for NPR and the German publication Der Spiegel had it, as well. Newsweek, The Jerusalem Post, Time, The Financial Times, the British newspaper The Guardian, the BBC and, perhaps most critically, Al Jazeera English, trumpeted the death of Muammar Gaddafi. The Washington Post headlined Moammar Gaddafi’s demise; the Council on Foreign Relations informed everyone of the killing of Muammar al-Qaddafi, while the French paper Le Monde reported the death of Mouammar Kadhafi.
Whatever the preferred spelling of his name, he is dead. Libyans win the shooting prize for killing more dictators than any other Arab Spring uprising.
For the record, I have no problem with the summary execution of the maniacal despot. Nor do I see anything wrong with the desire of his once-cowed people to see first-hand his dead body. I don’t normally believe in capital punishment, mostly because of the possibility a wrongful execution could occur. But in Qaddafi’s case, as it was for Osama bin Laden, death did not come too swiftly or too soon.
As indicated earlier, the festival of Sukkot is over. As I walked in a procession around our temple on the first day of the eight-day holiday, holding my lulav and etrog (a lulav is a frond of the date palm tree with sprigs of myrtle and willow; an etrog is a fruit of the citron tree) while singing hosannas, I couldn’t help but think to myself how strange religious customs are. Lest you think I am blasphemous, our rabbi commented out loud the next day how this ritual makes it seem we have not evolved too far from paganism.
Whatever the religion, faith has a way of challenging our sensibilities, of tickling our senses of humor. I couldn’t help but shake my head in wonder when I read about the thousands of Polish Catholics who had recently gathered for a special Mass in Sokolka in eastern Poland. They came to celebrate what they perceived to be a miracle, the appearance on a communion wafer of a dark spot they believed is part of the heart of Jesus.
According to church officials, two medical doctors verified the spot as heart muscle tissue. Since Catholics believe the wafer transfigures into the body of Jesus during Holy Communion, it was not too unrealistic for true believers to reason the heart tissue belonged to Jesus.
I know it sounds far-fetched, but who am I to say they’re crazy. Indeed, I’ll end with a quote from Lane Filler, a member of the Newsday editorial board, in a commentary on the religious beliefs of the Republican presidential candidates:
“So let me get this straight. If you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth thousands of years ago, you’re in a religion. If you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth hundreds of years ago, you’re in a cult. And if you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth on Thursday, you’re in a mental institution.”
Having violated several tenets of their religion, including not treating a prisoner with respect, and not washing a dead body while preparing it for burial within 24 hours, Libyans now seem to be debating what to do with the corpse of Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi. A resolution was said to be imminent.
Since Islamic law has already been shunted aside, why not cremate the body, brush the remains into a small can, place it in an airplane and disperse the ashes over the desert? That would surely please those who don’t want to make his grave a shrine, while pleasing his supporters as his ashes would be part of the Libyan landscape. A win-win for all.
It’s still uncertain who pulled the trigger that executed the Libyan dictator, and under whose authority, but it’s certain, according to the NY Times, that Libyans killed Muammar el-Qaddafi. According to the Associated Press, they killed Moammar Gadhafi. That’s the way The Wall Street Journal, the web site for NPR and the German publication Der Spiegel had it, as well. Newsweek, The Jerusalem Post, Time, The Financial Times, the British newspaper The Guardian, the BBC and, perhaps most critically, Al Jazeera English, trumpeted the death of Muammar Gaddafi. The Washington Post headlined Moammar Gaddafi’s demise; the Council on Foreign Relations informed everyone of the killing of Muammar al-Qaddafi, while the French paper Le Monde reported the death of Mouammar Kadhafi.
Whatever the preferred spelling of his name, he is dead. Libyans win the shooting prize for killing more dictators than any other Arab Spring uprising.
For the record, I have no problem with the summary execution of the maniacal despot. Nor do I see anything wrong with the desire of his once-cowed people to see first-hand his dead body. I don’t normally believe in capital punishment, mostly because of the possibility a wrongful execution could occur. But in Qaddafi’s case, as it was for Osama bin Laden, death did not come too swiftly or too soon.
As indicated earlier, the festival of Sukkot is over. As I walked in a procession around our temple on the first day of the eight-day holiday, holding my lulav and etrog (a lulav is a frond of the date palm tree with sprigs of myrtle and willow; an etrog is a fruit of the citron tree) while singing hosannas, I couldn’t help but think to myself how strange religious customs are. Lest you think I am blasphemous, our rabbi commented out loud the next day how this ritual makes it seem we have not evolved too far from paganism.
Whatever the religion, faith has a way of challenging our sensibilities, of tickling our senses of humor. I couldn’t help but shake my head in wonder when I read about the thousands of Polish Catholics who had recently gathered for a special Mass in Sokolka in eastern Poland. They came to celebrate what they perceived to be a miracle, the appearance on a communion wafer of a dark spot they believed is part of the heart of Jesus.
According to church officials, two medical doctors verified the spot as heart muscle tissue. Since Catholics believe the wafer transfigures into the body of Jesus during Holy Communion, it was not too unrealistic for true believers to reason the heart tissue belonged to Jesus.
I know it sounds far-fetched, but who am I to say they’re crazy. Indeed, I’ll end with a quote from Lane Filler, a member of the Newsday editorial board, in a commentary on the religious beliefs of the Republican presidential candidates:
“So let me get this straight. If you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth thousands of years ago, you’re in a religion. If you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth hundreds of years ago, you’re in a cult. And if you believe God spoke to people and angels walked the Earth on Thursday, you’re in a mental institution.”
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
I Am America
Did you see the article in Monday’s NY Times about the unofficial anthem of the Tea Party, I Am America, a song Herman Cain is using to jazz up his campaign for the Republican presidential nomination? Here’s a link to the story: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/17/us/politics/krista-branchs-i-am-america-aims-to-be-tea-party-anthem.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=krista%20branch&st=cse
And for those who are curious, here’s a link to the song itself, sung by Krista Branch, wife of the composer, pastor Michael Branch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0heL2Czeraw . That’s right, Michael Branch is a pastor, so if the song has some evangelical tones, cut it some slack.
My problem (I always have a problem, it seems) with the song and its positioning as a Tea Party/Cain standard is the implication that those who don’t share its views are not real Americans, that they’re un-American, that they’re not patriotic.
I’d rather see politicians choose uplifting songs, such as Bill Clinton’s use of Fleetwood Mac’s Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow, than a song that pits one group against the other.
Speaking of pitting one group against another, did you hear about the Republican state representative in Florida, Ritch Workman, who wants to repeal the 1989 state ban on dwarf tossing in bars because it would provide employment to dwarfs. Though he told the Palm Beach Post dwarf tossing is “repulsive and stupid” and he would never watch it, Workman said of the ban, "All that it does is prevent some dwarfs from getting jobs they would be happy to get. In this economy, or any economy, why would we want to prevent people from getting gainful employment?"
See, Republicans do have a jobs program, albeit for little people only.
For Ritch Workman (you just gotta love that perfect name for a Republican politician) it comes down to Big Government intruding into the lives of ordinary citizens. Dwarf tossing is "none of the state's business," he told the Post.
From small people to giants: I, for one, am not too distressed about the NBA lockout. I’m not a basketball fan. Maybe it stems from my basic ineptitude on the court. That being said, I do feel sorry for everyone but the players and owners who are affected by the lockout, people such as the concession stand workers, the restaurant owners and their staffs who depend on game night traffic, parking lot attendants and others whose income is dependent on the games. “But if you want to watch millionaires throwing elbows,” Stephen Colbert said Tuesday, “there’s still the Republican presidential race.”
Watching Tuesday night’s Republican presidential candidate debate in Las Vegas (I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I make to bring you this blog), I was struck by how often the contenders blamed government regulations for tamping down job creation. It’s hard to disagree with the regulatory burden argument on the same day the U.S. Senate displayed rare bipartisanship by voting down a proposed Dept. of Agriculture mandate to limit the amount of potatoes and other starches in school meal programs. Instead of focusing on the foodstuff, perhaps the USDA should have tried to control the preparation technique. Outlaw frying, not potatoes.
So, yes, regulations can go too far. Big government can be destructive and intrusive. But then there are regulations that are helpful, such the one issued by the Federal Communications Commission requiring cell phone carriers to alert customers when they are approaching their monthly contractual minutes, enabling them to avoid huge overage charges. Unless you’re an executive with a cell phone company, or a Ron Paul libertarian, I seriously doubt you’d find that regulation objectionable.
And for those who are curious, here’s a link to the song itself, sung by Krista Branch, wife of the composer, pastor Michael Branch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0heL2Czeraw . That’s right, Michael Branch is a pastor, so if the song has some evangelical tones, cut it some slack.
My problem (I always have a problem, it seems) with the song and its positioning as a Tea Party/Cain standard is the implication that those who don’t share its views are not real Americans, that they’re un-American, that they’re not patriotic.
I’d rather see politicians choose uplifting songs, such as Bill Clinton’s use of Fleetwood Mac’s Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow, than a song that pits one group against the other.
Speaking of pitting one group against another, did you hear about the Republican state representative in Florida, Ritch Workman, who wants to repeal the 1989 state ban on dwarf tossing in bars because it would provide employment to dwarfs. Though he told the Palm Beach Post dwarf tossing is “repulsive and stupid” and he would never watch it, Workman said of the ban, "All that it does is prevent some dwarfs from getting jobs they would be happy to get. In this economy, or any economy, why would we want to prevent people from getting gainful employment?"
See, Republicans do have a jobs program, albeit for little people only.
For Ritch Workman (you just gotta love that perfect name for a Republican politician) it comes down to Big Government intruding into the lives of ordinary citizens. Dwarf tossing is "none of the state's business," he told the Post.
From small people to giants: I, for one, am not too distressed about the NBA lockout. I’m not a basketball fan. Maybe it stems from my basic ineptitude on the court. That being said, I do feel sorry for everyone but the players and owners who are affected by the lockout, people such as the concession stand workers, the restaurant owners and their staffs who depend on game night traffic, parking lot attendants and others whose income is dependent on the games. “But if you want to watch millionaires throwing elbows,” Stephen Colbert said Tuesday, “there’s still the Republican presidential race.”
Watching Tuesday night’s Republican presidential candidate debate in Las Vegas (I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I make to bring you this blog), I was struck by how often the contenders blamed government regulations for tamping down job creation. It’s hard to disagree with the regulatory burden argument on the same day the U.S. Senate displayed rare bipartisanship by voting down a proposed Dept. of Agriculture mandate to limit the amount of potatoes and other starches in school meal programs. Instead of focusing on the foodstuff, perhaps the USDA should have tried to control the preparation technique. Outlaw frying, not potatoes.
So, yes, regulations can go too far. Big government can be destructive and intrusive. But then there are regulations that are helpful, such the one issued by the Federal Communications Commission requiring cell phone carriers to alert customers when they are approaching their monthly contractual minutes, enabling them to avoid huge overage charges. Unless you’re an executive with a cell phone company, or a Ron Paul libertarian, I seriously doubt you’d find that regulation objectionable.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Human Infrastructure
His $447 billion plan to pump up the economy deflated by Republicans in the U.S. Senate, President Obama now is trying to reignite our fiscal health in piecemeal fashion. He’s pushing parts of his overall program one at a time, starting with a $35 billion package to keep teachers in the classroom and put more policemen and firemen on the streets. Though it might seem a laudable, even bipartisan goal, the GOP already has said it will vote to block its passage.
Which leaves me wondering, when did we as a nation turn against the public sector workers who are the foundation of our society? When did it become acceptable to strip away essential jobs in our communities while letting fat cats accumulate wealth beyond reason? When did we begin to demonize the very people to whom we entrust our most precious commodity, our children?
How would you like to leave your family every day for a job that puts you in jeopardy each work shift, that could cost you your life or could leave you injured for life because you were protecting society? Isn't it worth something to you to know others are ready to risk their safety for yours?
Sure, some cops are bigoted. Some overreact, are abusive. Some have behavioral problems. Haven't we learned anything from all the cop shows and movies about their tension-filled lives? How many of us would want to truly trade our daily routine for that of a policeman or fireman, knowing that around the corner on a mundane patrol or one alarm fire bell response death lurks? It might sound exciting for one day, even two, but as a constant condition of employment it would be hard to accept.
The infrastructure of a country is measured not just by the length and quality of its roadways, bridges and tunnels, but also by the soundness of its educational system. Teachers are its foundation. Sure, there are bad teachers, just as there are bad accountants, bad lawyers, bad doctors, bad truck drivers, bad waiters, bad you-name-it. Even bad bloggers. Tenure has been abused.
Let's reform the system but let's not abuse the teaching profession. If our children are our most precious asset, why wouldn't we want to pay the person who spends more daytime hours with them, the person who can influence their thinking and development, an above average wage? Aren't teachers doing a job at least as important as lawyers, as accountants, as stock brokers?
When it's my grandson Finley’s reading time, the books he chooses invariably depict heroes of the young—firemen, policemen, construction workers, teachers. Nary a computer wizard or Wall Street tycoon or lawyer or legislator or regulator or hedge fund trader in sight.
We are kidding ourselves if we believe society will be better off with fewer and lower-compensated teachers, policemen and firemen.
Which leaves me wondering, when did we as a nation turn against the public sector workers who are the foundation of our society? When did it become acceptable to strip away essential jobs in our communities while letting fat cats accumulate wealth beyond reason? When did we begin to demonize the very people to whom we entrust our most precious commodity, our children?
How would you like to leave your family every day for a job that puts you in jeopardy each work shift, that could cost you your life or could leave you injured for life because you were protecting society? Isn't it worth something to you to know others are ready to risk their safety for yours?
Sure, some cops are bigoted. Some overreact, are abusive. Some have behavioral problems. Haven't we learned anything from all the cop shows and movies about their tension-filled lives? How many of us would want to truly trade our daily routine for that of a policeman or fireman, knowing that around the corner on a mundane patrol or one alarm fire bell response death lurks? It might sound exciting for one day, even two, but as a constant condition of employment it would be hard to accept.
The infrastructure of a country is measured not just by the length and quality of its roadways, bridges and tunnels, but also by the soundness of its educational system. Teachers are its foundation. Sure, there are bad teachers, just as there are bad accountants, bad lawyers, bad doctors, bad truck drivers, bad waiters, bad you-name-it. Even bad bloggers. Tenure has been abused.
Let's reform the system but let's not abuse the teaching profession. If our children are our most precious asset, why wouldn't we want to pay the person who spends more daytime hours with them, the person who can influence their thinking and development, an above average wage? Aren't teachers doing a job at least as important as lawyers, as accountants, as stock brokers?
When it's my grandson Finley’s reading time, the books he chooses invariably depict heroes of the young—firemen, policemen, construction workers, teachers. Nary a computer wizard or Wall Street tycoon or lawyer or legislator or regulator or hedge fund trader in sight.
We are kidding ourselves if we believe society will be better off with fewer and lower-compensated teachers, policemen and firemen.
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