Well, it just might be that you are...
an American.
Happy St. Patrick's Day 2010, everyone...
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Jesus stepped off a Greyhound bus tonight...
Tomorrow morning's headlines would read: JESUS RETURNS! And, to reach the most tolerant and informed audience possible, he would appear on the Rachel Maddow's show tomorrow evening for his first televised interview:
Rachel: Thank you for joining us this evening. No doubt this has been a busy day for you. Will you mind if I call you by your first name?
Jesus: It’s my pleasure, Rachel. I appreciate your inviting me...and of course not. Jesus, Joshua...whatever.
R: Before we begin, just to make certain that you understand where I am coming from, I should probably disclose to you, and to our audience, that I am Jewish.
J: Me too. My mom, my dad, my brothers and sisters...friends. All Jewish.
R: Oh, okay. I’m guessing that the one question that our Christian viewers hope that I will ask first is: What took you so long?
J: [Jesus gets the joke and chuckles as he answers] I had to save up for bus fare, Rachel.
R: Are you saying that with the billions of dollars that are tithed to churches and sent to televangelists, no one would spare you bus fare?
J: That’s what I’m saying, Rachel. They keep praying for me to put in a good word for them, you know, with “The Big Guy,” always asking for money to grease their palms--but do you think, G-d forbid, they’d spring a buck or two for one measly ticket for me?
R: Now, I'll get right to the point. I presume you have heard the recent reports that Glenn Beck advised Christians to leave their churches if they heard the words, “social justice,” spoken by their pastors…
J: Yes, yes I have heard that. Actually, I watched a video of him on YouTube this afternoon…he kind of reminds me of the swine I sent flying…oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to go on so. This is my first televised interview, you understand, and I'm a little nervous.
R: No, that’s quite all right, Jesus…please continue.
J: Well, I guess, if I’m not being too arrogant, I am pretty much an expert on what you twenty-first centuriers (is that a word? Not used to speaking English) anyway, what you modern-day folks call, “social justice.”
R: How is that?
J: Well, I guess if anyone has proof of exactly what “social injustice” looks like, I do.
R: You are referring to the crucifixion?
J. Well that and all these desperate letters I've received from just all sorts of people.
R: Are you talking about populations in Africa and in third world countries?
J: [Holding up a fist full of letters] No, I will deal with them in a minute. These letters are from children here--they are all post marked, “The United States of America.”
R: But many members of the right wing of American politics would say that the parents are to blame for the poverty and hunger that these children are experiencing. Irresponsible single mothers. Absentee fathers.
J: Single mothers? Absentee Fathers? If my step dad hadn’t come along when he did and…well, anyway, what in the hell do they think would have happened to me?
R: We need to go to this commercial, but when we return, I hope that we can discuss your viewpoints on other religions…
J: Do you mean besides Judaism?
R: Good Lord! You have been away for a long time...We’ll be back right after this commercial break…
Rachel: Thank you for joining us this evening. No doubt this has been a busy day for you. Will you mind if I call you by your first name?
Jesus: It’s my pleasure, Rachel. I appreciate your inviting me...and of course not. Jesus, Joshua...whatever.
R: Before we begin, just to make certain that you understand where I am coming from, I should probably disclose to you, and to our audience, that I am Jewish.
J: Me too. My mom, my dad, my brothers and sisters...friends. All Jewish.
R: Oh, okay. I’m guessing that the one question that our Christian viewers hope that I will ask first is: What took you so long?
J: [Jesus gets the joke and chuckles as he answers] I had to save up for bus fare, Rachel.
R: Are you saying that with the billions of dollars that are tithed to churches and sent to televangelists, no one would spare you bus fare?
J: That’s what I’m saying, Rachel. They keep praying for me to put in a good word for them, you know, with “The Big Guy,” always asking for money to grease their palms--but do you think, G-d forbid, they’d spring a buck or two for one measly ticket for me?
R: Now, I'll get right to the point. I presume you have heard the recent reports that Glenn Beck advised Christians to leave their churches if they heard the words, “social justice,” spoken by their pastors…
J: Yes, yes I have heard that. Actually, I watched a video of him on YouTube this afternoon…he kind of reminds me of the swine I sent flying…oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to go on so. This is my first televised interview, you understand, and I'm a little nervous.
R: No, that’s quite all right, Jesus…please continue.
J: Well, I guess, if I’m not being too arrogant, I am pretty much an expert on what you twenty-first centuriers (is that a word? Not used to speaking English) anyway, what you modern-day folks call, “social justice.”
R: How is that?
J: Well, I guess if anyone has proof of exactly what “social injustice” looks like, I do.
R: You are referring to the crucifixion?
J. Well that and all these desperate letters I've received from just all sorts of people.
R: Are you talking about populations in Africa and in third world countries?
J: [Holding up a fist full of letters] No, I will deal with them in a minute. These letters are from children here--they are all post marked, “The United States of America.”
R: But many members of the right wing of American politics would say that the parents are to blame for the poverty and hunger that these children are experiencing. Irresponsible single mothers. Absentee fathers.
J: Single mothers? Absentee Fathers? If my step dad hadn’t come along when he did and…well, anyway, what in the hell do they think would have happened to me?
R: We need to go to this commercial, but when we return, I hope that we can discuss your viewpoints on other religions…
J: Do you mean besides Judaism?
R: Good Lord! You have been away for a long time...We’ll be back right after this commercial break…
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Every Billy Bob got a telescope for Christmas?
And, so what if every Billy Bob got a telescope for Christmas--or at least was guaranteed a school field trip to a planetarium and a science and history museum in a city nearest them?
Rather than risk this:
Or this, as Edward Current's satire amusingly explains:
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
We let the younger generation choose their own future?
When I start looking around at the world we live in, and get an uncomfortable knot in my stomach when I think about the theology-driven world view of Sarah Palin and her devotees, I only have to take a peek at the younger generation to understand:
All is right with the world--or will be, given time.
When I see images of tea partiers on the news--the white-haired folks who are adamant about the world that they want to leave to the next generation--and then I turn my glance toward the next generation and see and listen to their ideas on the world that they WANT to inherit, I see that:
All is right with the world--or will be, given time.
The best and brightest of the younger generation "get it." Not only do they "get it," but many of them are very capable of passing it along. In this fast-paced world we live in--you just have to keep up, that's all. And, if you don't quite "get" satire--well, it just may be you that gets left behind (pun intended).
All is right with the world--or will be, given time.
When I see images of tea partiers on the news--the white-haired folks who are adamant about the world that they want to leave to the next generation--and then I turn my glance toward the next generation and see and listen to their ideas on the world that they WANT to inherit, I see that:
All is right with the world--or will be, given time.
The best and brightest of the younger generation "get it." Not only do they "get it," but many of them are very capable of passing it along. In this fast-paced world we live in--you just have to keep up, that's all. And, if you don't quite "get" satire--well, it just may be you that gets left behind (pun intended).
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The John Birch Society...
co-sponsored CPAC 2010?
I am one of those children of the sixties, they talk about. No, I didn't burn my bra, if that's what you are wondering. In fact, I probably fell under the heading of "respectable" life style. I got married, then got pregnant and pregnant and pregnant. We put our children's needs above our own. Soccer, cleats and shin guards, traveling team dues and long weekend trips as far as Canada so that they could play, gymnastics and dance, coaching softball in the summer, neighborhood newspaper routes, girl scouts, basketball shoes, camp and miles of driving on icy Indiana roads to watch games, cheer leading camp, performing jazz choir dresses and shoes. It was all really very wonderful --tiring, but wonderful and worth it.
Of course, having been married in LA County, California, we knew, my ex husband and I, that our marriage had only a 50-50 chance of survival. And so, although it made it through 100% of my children's' childhoods, it was destined to bite the dust at some point, and it did.
What, in the hell is this woman talking about?
Well, only this. I didn't burn any of my bras. I was never a part of any college campus protests, but I fully understood, and held as my own, the "flower power" philosophy.
Two boys from the crowd that I ran with after high school died in Vietnam. They were best friends and I considered them both friends of mine. But back then, you see, there was something called "the draft."
These two boys didn't just disappear into some National Guard unit, somewhere, they disappeared forever.
Not everyone who I knew that went to Vietnam died. I knew a few others. One I actually dated before he went--but when he returned home, he wasn't the same boy that I had dated. Another was married to a friend of mine from high school. When he came back, she discovered the same phenomenon--he wasn't the young man that she had married. Then there was my cousin's husband. He was a Marine. When he came home, he was ready and eager to go back--it was his duty.
Years after the fall of Saigon, I happened to be in a position to see first-hand another Vietnam veteran. He was going through the court system at the time and, from all appearances, had a personal pendulum that swung back and forth between uncontrolled flash backs and alcoholism. But, like I say, he was being well cared for by the county court system.
But I digress. I suggested that this post would be about The John Birch Society's co-sponsorship of CPAC, didn't I? Sorry, but if you will indulge me for just another minute or so, there are a few more tidbits I feel compelled to add.
Back in the olden days, a dear relative of mine and her husband tagged me along on vacation with them a few times. Two of those trips were to Florida. That was during the times when life's necessities, like rest rooms and drinks of water, were still color coded. I remember the first time I ever saw a sign posted above a water fountain: Whites only--is what it said. As a teenager, I saw that world begin to crumble. I watched it begin to play out on our black and white television--it was on that same television, by the way, which a few years later, I saw depicted, and heard disclosed, a sanitized version of the most recent happenings in Vietnam-- and the most recent tallies of casualties and deaths.
During these same times, there were organizations whose names were not to be mentioned in polite company. It was the folk song writers and musicians that provided , through their songs, cliff note versions of their identities and their aimed purposes. The John Birch Society was one of them:
The Chad Mitchell Trio sang about them in 1962:
And, then there was Bob Dylan:
Who also wrote and sang these words:
So here we are. CPAC, without raising so much as an eyebrow, welcomes The John Birch Society as a co-sponsor. My, my, my. Like my mother used to say, "You're known by the company you keep!"
Hopefully, there is a budding young singer/songwriter out there who could put those words to good use and start a "revolution"--one quite different from the one that the teabaggers are trying to start. Something along the lines of:
I've been wondering for a while, now, what would happen if we all dug out our old cassette tapes or even bought new CDs of 1960s Protest Music, slipped them into our car tape or CD players, turned them up full blast and rolled down the car windows and up and down every street in America?
Would people get the message?
Would the far right religious militarists and neo cons, who persist in opining that Iranian should probably be America's next "mission from God," finally find that they were wasting their breath--because this song had become the unofficial national anthem?
I am one of those children of the sixties, they talk about. No, I didn't burn my bra, if that's what you are wondering. In fact, I probably fell under the heading of "respectable" life style. I got married, then got pregnant and pregnant and pregnant. We put our children's needs above our own. Soccer, cleats and shin guards, traveling team dues and long weekend trips as far as Canada so that they could play, gymnastics and dance, coaching softball in the summer, neighborhood newspaper routes, girl scouts, basketball shoes, camp and miles of driving on icy Indiana roads to watch games, cheer leading camp, performing jazz choir dresses and shoes. It was all really very wonderful --tiring, but wonderful and worth it.
Of course, having been married in LA County, California, we knew, my ex husband and I, that our marriage had only a 50-50 chance of survival. And so, although it made it through 100% of my children's' childhoods, it was destined to bite the dust at some point, and it did.
What, in the hell is this woman talking about?
Well, only this. I didn't burn any of my bras. I was never a part of any college campus protests, but I fully understood, and held as my own, the "flower power" philosophy.
Two boys from the crowd that I ran with after high school died in Vietnam. They were best friends and I considered them both friends of mine. But back then, you see, there was something called "the draft."
These two boys didn't just disappear into some National Guard unit, somewhere, they disappeared forever.
Not everyone who I knew that went to Vietnam died. I knew a few others. One I actually dated before he went--but when he returned home, he wasn't the same boy that I had dated. Another was married to a friend of mine from high school. When he came back, she discovered the same phenomenon--he wasn't the young man that she had married. Then there was my cousin's husband. He was a Marine. When he came home, he was ready and eager to go back--it was his duty.
Years after the fall of Saigon, I happened to be in a position to see first-hand another Vietnam veteran. He was going through the court system at the time and, from all appearances, had a personal pendulum that swung back and forth between uncontrolled flash backs and alcoholism. But, like I say, he was being well cared for by the county court system.
But I digress. I suggested that this post would be about The John Birch Society's co-sponsorship of CPAC, didn't I? Sorry, but if you will indulge me for just another minute or so, there are a few more tidbits I feel compelled to add.
Back in the olden days, a dear relative of mine and her husband tagged me along on vacation with them a few times. Two of those trips were to Florida. That was during the times when life's necessities, like rest rooms and drinks of water, were still color coded. I remember the first time I ever saw a sign posted above a water fountain: Whites only--is what it said. As a teenager, I saw that world begin to crumble. I watched it begin to play out on our black and white television--it was on that same television, by the way, which a few years later, I saw depicted, and heard disclosed, a sanitized version of the most recent happenings in Vietnam-- and the most recent tallies of casualties and deaths.
During these same times, there were organizations whose names were not to be mentioned in polite company. It was the folk song writers and musicians that provided , through their songs, cliff note versions of their identities and their aimed purposes. The John Birch Society was one of them:
The Chad Mitchell Trio sang about them in 1962:
And, then there was Bob Dylan:
Who also wrote and sang these words:
So here we are. CPAC, without raising so much as an eyebrow, welcomes The John Birch Society as a co-sponsor. My, my, my. Like my mother used to say, "You're known by the company you keep!"
Hopefully, there is a budding young singer/songwriter out there who could put those words to good use and start a "revolution"--one quite different from the one that the teabaggers are trying to start. Something along the lines of:
I've been wondering for a while, now, what would happen if we all dug out our old cassette tapes or even bought new CDs of 1960s Protest Music, slipped them into our car tape or CD players, turned them up full blast and rolled down the car windows and up and down every street in America?
Would people get the message?
Would the far right religious militarists and neo cons, who persist in opining that Iranian should probably be America's next "mission from God," finally find that they were wasting their breath--because this song had become the unofficial national anthem?
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