Brian Doherty @ reason.com says:

Defending non-voting in bars across this great land, I often hear the ultimate "shut up"—that if you don't vote, you have no right to complain about politics or society. The reality is the exact opposite: By voting, you are playing a game whose rules are that the majority vote winner gets to control the reins of government, in all its unspeakable power. If you complain about the results of the game you chose to play, you're just being a sore loser—or winner.

Here's the whole of it:
http://www.reason.com/hod/bmd110204.shtml

The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

I watched an HBO movie this weekend entitled, "Iron Jawed Angels." It was an excellent and moving story. Truly amazing to see what women had to go through to receive some measure of equality in this country. I would recommend watching, if you get a chance. It should give american women some understanding of the privilege of being allowed to have a voice in their own government. Interesting thing presented in the movie, though. In the midst of their protest, these women were confronted with the dilemma of electing to postpone or continue their cause at the onset of World War I. They knew that, at the very least, it would be rude to picket the office of the president during wartime. They chose to continue and hold the president accountable for his policy which included a zealous agenda of helping the citizens of other nations to reach the respectable position of a self-governing society while neglecting a large percentage of the citizens that lived under the rules of his own administration. The women were spat upon and called names, assaulted and arrested. Some of the onlookers told them to "go to Germany." I found this to be an ironic twist, in that this is the very thing that some have been known to say to me in today's world when I say I choose not to participate in the voting process. Honest to God, they tell me to move to Germany, as I've no right to live here in their precious democracy. Seems to me that those women, and many who came before, have always been fighting for the same thing. Liberty. The right to live according to one's own conscience. The fact that I don't vote is not because I'm lazy (although I am lazy) and it's not because I am disillusioned by the whole mess (although I am that, as well). My reasons are a matter of conscience. And when the people of this country choose a platform that would deny people the right to act in response to their own chosen belief system, then they lose the right to be called a free society. And then, in fact, those who lost their lives to provide that freedom, really did do it all for nothing. Postscript: This article was printed in the letters to the editor of the Ogden Standard Examiner on November 12, 2004.

And the beat goes on...

Five years ago, I left the father of my children. The kids were ages 18, 15 and 12. It was very hard on everyone, but especially them. They were confused and angry and have wrestled with the many aspects of recovering from a broken home. Strangely, it was easiest on the youngest, hardest on the oldest… and right in the middle, is the girl. She felt the strong pangs of grief and upheaval the most acutely, but had the capability of working through the emotions a little better (with a lot of help from a supportive network of friends and family). She now feels like a stronger and greater person because of the adversity. All three kids have excellent spirits and solid characters. I’m sure they’ll bear the scars for life. But scars are things we all have to live with. The phrase, “He (or she) is a survivor,” is often heard. That’s no big accomplishment… because it’s true of just about everyone. We are created to survive, naturally. It’s surviving WELL that we’re after… that’s the gift that we admire. And, although I know my children to be overcomers, I’ve often thought perhaps I should have stuck it out in the marriage for their sakes. In fact, it was for their sakes that I stayed in it for eighteen years. And it was upon realizing that it was not helping anyone, least of all them, that I chose not to continue in it. So this thought keeps me from the large part of regret. But still, no one wants to know they are responsible for the pain their children feel. I knew it would be hard on everyone. All three of them knew that living with their father was killing me. They all understood that it was a no win situation. I have never sensed any resentment toward me from them… except from the oldest. He had decided to deal with the situation by calling his childhood “a lie.” You can imagine what that would do to a person. He has only spoken ill words to me a couple of times. But I’ve heard a few things here and there of things he’s said about me. Not to mention the things others have said about me. It’s been a long and terrible road. But it’s been a necessary one. And one that has brought immeasurable insight and freedom to us all. This we only know by the little glimpses of hope we see on the journey. You see, this oldest son is the one who recently had the privilege of becoming a father. He lives very close by, so I’ve been able to be actively involved in the whole experience. And, as luck would have it, he and the momma have been staying with me while their house is getting some improvements done. They’ve been with me for almost a month. It has been nothing but a pleasure. Last night, he said the smallest little statement to me… but it meant the whole world. We were discussing identity theft, or something to that effect. I mentioned that someone may have used my social security number but it was no big deal, because it’s not like I have a good name that they could ruin. And he looked squarely at me and said, “To me, you have a good name. To your children, you will always have a good name.” The moment passed quietly… uneventfully… but our hearts were stronger for the greatness of it. I know many have misunderstood and questioned and judged my actions, regarding the demise of that union. There really are no words that can justify such decisions. I can only say that, at the time, I knew my children to be like little birds that I had taught to fly. And now they were going to have to do that very thing. And I’d be here for them, if they ever wanted to know less about the earth and more about the sky. And they’d be here for me… as they were last night… in the loving words of that one man.

Post Script:
I shared the above composition with Jake, my oldest. He said he was quite touched and wanted to take me to dinner and talk about it. We went out saturday night and talked about many things, but the main thing he wanted to let me know is that he didn't mean those things he said... and that he doesn't feel like his childhood was "a lie." He said, "Mom, I had a good childhood, and the only reason it was good was because you were in it. You have been the good part of my life."

At the risk of becoming a theological forum...

Trotting Paul...

While driving to work today, I was thinking about the apostle Paul. I spent a number of years under the influence of religion. Some of it mainstream… some of it not-so-mainstream. The doctrines varied, but there was a common theme. They often used Paul as a crutch to back up their destructive teachings. Effectively doing harm to men, women and children alike. His name is sometimes used to browbeat women into submission, to force men into positions of authority or action (in the name of GOD) which they have no business in and to give children a skewed view of the family structure. These being all well-meaning souls who have just picked up these ideas from the traditions of their chosen sects (one of the most famous sects being “Americanization”). As I would hope most of us have already discovered (along with Tevye), tradition consistently has nothing to do with truth. And as a result, we reject Paul, labeling him a controlling, judgmental, self-righteous ass… a man who couldn’t possibly know anything about women or families, having lived his entire life as a single man. Well, I’ve come to find out that in order to receive his teachings properly, a couple of things have to be in order. First, realizing that it is God’s words you are studying, not Paul’s. God may have chosen Paul to deliver the words, but that doesn’t make them any less His. Secondly, study what is being said in light of the entirety of the Bible, WITHOUT any extra biblical instruction, going back to the original Greek, if possible. In fact, you will find Paul to be probably the most humble and gracious man (apart from Christ himself) to have ever walked this earth. He had a lot to be humble about. He was in no position to feel superior to anyone, considering his history. He had previously been all of those things listed above. He had even gone to the point of standing by and holding the coats of the Pharisees who were stoning a man to death for the crime of preaching Christ. He had committed the greatest crimes against Christ that were possible to commit. When Paul’s eyes were opened, he saw some terrible, terrible things about himself and all the foundations on which he stood crumbled in a moment. For me, it is one of the most ill things I’ve had to encounter (and continue to encounter), to see this man used to validate ideas about patriotism, sectarianism and submission. Those being the very things he was trying to clarify! If you do get a chance to study the topics that Paul wrote about (which he wrote usually from prison) please do not be swayed by the prejudices of your background or the oppressive slants of your society. His words are truly full of life and health and light. I would not be able to do without them.

In Response to Charles, as follows:

Believe me... I know the feeling...

http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone7.html

Being a Christian in these times... it ain’t easy. Of course, it never was… and never was meant to be. It was meant to be simple and full of peace… but not easy.

Likely one of the most misapplied aspects of Christianity is prayer. The use and abuse of it abounds. And it is nearly impossible to force oneself to pray for those you despise. It feels as if you are asking God to bless their horrific actions. But in fact, God never does instruct us to pray for their prosperity. It’s really a change in us that he is after. (and out trots Paul)

[1] I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men;
[2] For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.

The act of praying for all men, including those that are in positions of authority (which includes the entire world, not just OUR leaders) gives us that quiet and peaceable spirit, regardless of what it gives those for whom we are praying. In other words, prayer changes us. When I stop clinging to my country’s boundaries and claim all mankind in my view, it changes entirely the way I see the big picture. The scene changes to an eternal one. Where I am realizing my prayer is for those that are poor in spirit, just as some are praying for me when I am poor in spirit. And in all honesty, I can’t think of anyone in the world who is poorer in spirit than the world’s leaders. Giving of thanks for such creatures does seem to be a call to pure torture, but when I’m on my knees, it’s hard to look down on anyone.

Call unto Me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not. Jeremiah 33:3

(Had to hang up my spurs a minute for that one.) *wink*

Some Advice to Seriously Ponder:

Are you bored with mainstream religion and ready, eddy, eddy for something different? Then why not consider converting to the Church of SpongeBob Squarepants? In fact, you probably don't even have to give up your existing faith. Spongebob is quite ecumenical, in this regard. To convert all you have to do is "drop on the deck and flop like a fish."
From Alex Boese's Museum of Hoaxes

Another Kitty Says:

"The way I feel about music is that there is no right and wrong. Only true and false."
-Fiona Apple

Mommy and Daddy Love

Little treasure toes.
You spend your days dreaming of painting toenails.
I’m sure of it.
(At least your daddy is.)

Daddy says he found you in a treasure box.
He calls you his “precious.”
(Fortunately, he doesn’t use the smeagol voice when he does it.
But he does ask if you’ve seen the movie.)

Mommy says she knows of no thing more beautiful.
(Plus, she’s the one who painted your toes.)
She wants you to remain small forever and ever…
So she can hold you and kiss your face and you’ll be happy.

When you hear daddy’s voice,
You turn your head to find him.
When he’s at work, mommy puts the phone to your ear.
Daddy says he loves you. And he does.

You will always be surrounded by love.
But no love will ever match the love you have today.
From mommy and daddy.

Just Another Day in the Land of Zion

Sister Cindy (aka get-along-home) once made a trip to the store, only to become involved in a chain of events that merit recounting.

Cindy and her friend Mike were visiting the local grocery story and were met at the door by a couple of Mexican kids. (I’m sure the fact that they were Mexican has nothing to do with anything, but when Cindy was telling the story, she added that detail.) The kids were selling incense. Cindy dislikes kids almost entirely, and of course passed by them by either ignoring them or giving them a sharp reply. She went on in to do her shopping, setting her cell phone in the front part of the basket. After leaving the store, she looked and looked for her cell phone, but to no avail. She hadn’t seen it since she’d been in the store. She returned to the store and asked if anyone had turned it in as lost. They said, “Nope.” She began devising in her mind that “those Mexican kids” had taken it! (At this point in her story, I was sure she could not be seriously thinking that they were thieves just because they were Mexican ~ and yes, the correct word is Hispanic, but that’s not the word Cindy uses. Seriously, though… I’m sure there were many people in the store who could be suspect as well…) Well, Cindy’s friend Mike had an old cell phone that had been used via the same service provider. Cindy called the provider right away and had the service transferred to the other phone. Almost immediately the phone rang. It was a woman speaking Spanish. Cindy asked if she was looking for her son. She said, “Yes, I was calling him back. He called me from this number.” Cindy said, “Well that’s because he stole my phone and I want it back.” The woman pauses and says, “Is there a reward?” Cindy: “A reward? Are you kidding? Your son STOLE my phone!”
Woman: “Well I’ll get your phone back to you if you give me a reward.”
Cindy: “Okay fine. I’ll meet you at such and such a place… at such and such a time.”
Cindy proceeded to call the police and ask them to accompany her at the meeting place. The police kept at a distance, just to be sure the woman gave Cindy the phone. I suppose if she did, then all would be well. Cindy and Mike approached the woman together. She had two small boys with her. When she asked Cindy where her reward was, Cindy said, “I am not giving you a reward, you silly woman.” The woman said, “But… but… but… my little ones here need the money.” Mike interrupted, “Hey lady, you wanna know what your reward is? See those cops over there? They won’t arrest you. How’s that?”
So off they all went, going their own separate ways. No shit. True story.

At the risk of becoming a political forum...

Anyone who knows me, knows that I run from political discussions. What is not always known, though, is my reason for running. Most assume that I am trying to bury my head in the sand. Or, that I don't know anything about the subject. Some are wise enough to realize that it's just not acceptably discussed, along with religion. But the real reason is that no one is interested in hearing what I have to say. Well, since this man is much more knowledgeable and experienced and qualified to present a point, I'm going to recommend reading his article. And I'm going to guess that zero people will read it (not because they aren't interested in the subject matter, but because it has more than one paragraph). I'll put the link right here at your fingertips... and, as they say... you can lead a horse to water...
*wink wink*

http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone2.html

(Hope you don't mind, Charles)

[I]t is a false deduction that one thousand human beings are worth more than one; that would be tantamount to regarding men as animals. The central point about being human is that the unit "1" is the highest; "1000" counts for less.
-- Soren Kierkegaard

Wait Until Your Father Gets Home

Read this:
http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone3.html

And then this:
Our Father, the State. After having read Charles H. Featherstone’s excellent article on the same, I’m still a little confused. Clearly, allowing ourselves to be manipulated in the name of parenthood, by the state, is beyond idiotic. But how would one go about tearing loose of those ironclad apron strings without the benefit of a blowtorch? Every single thing we do is regulated. We begin by being “registered” and given a number. We are put on a schedule of immunizations, and when thrown into the public school system we are initially branded suitable, based on our rigid adherence to said schedule. We cannot do anything without our registration number and proof of submission. Not without a fight, anyway. So on we go. We give birth to our babies, sign them up and wait for opportunity to throw them out. Why should we think they would grow up to do anything but the same? This is such a basic and intrinsic part of our society, leading to parents uttering the words (right in front of their child), “God, I can’t wait until he starts school so he will be out from under my feet!” We put them in varying regimented institutions, thinking we have opted for some measure of freedom by “choosing” public or private (and even home) schools. But it’s all regulated. Our big daddy is watching us. (While we have been worrying about big brother, our daddy has enlarged to gargantuan proportions.) There is so much more going on, but there’s no need to go into it here. It’s just more of the same. Maybe in a different color, waving a different banner, wearing a different T-shirt. The long and short of it is, why are we amazed at the “daddy party” mentality, when it’s a true reflection of our own parenting? Yikes, indeed. We are sacrificing our children for our own sakes and we’ve been doing it so long, they don’t even bother to scream anymore.

The Shakespeare Authorship Debate

You might say, "Who cares who wrote the plays and sonnets?"
I care.

http://www.shakespeare-oxford.com/flawlife.htm

As Charles Burford (Shakespeare Oxford Society President, 1995-1997) has said in his talks on the authorship, "If you get Shakespeare wrong, you get the whole Elizabethan era wrong."

A Message from the Earl of Oxford:

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never;
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny!

Sing no more ditties, sing no more,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny!

For BrynLeigh Jade:

Sweet light that shines from those bright eyes, Makes heaven wish for bigger skies. The sun could warm the darkest place, Yet still not match that precious face. And in her orbit, gorgeous moon, Seeks to make a dim world swoon. But all her efforts pale in vain When those small sighs our hearts obtain.