Thursday, September 3, 2009

Take a Look

I was interested to see {in the article HERE} that 75% of all Americans support the public option in healthcare. Huh? Is that true? I am really and truly a minority here?

I support reforming healthcare. Something does need to be done but I would prefer a public sector solution not a government intervention. Did you read John Mackey's ideas? They are a great starting point for a discussion.

I was also a little scared by the text in this memo calling for a combined effort to contact all senators and representatives after the break, on Patriot's Day, telling them...well, the talking points speak for themselves, "If you don't mind..."

What do you think?

Thursday, July 2, 2009

What freedom Means to Me

Freedom is teaching my children that they live in a land raised up and blessed by a loving God. It is teaching them that this land was given to them with an obligation that they will maintain liberty by living a principled life with high moral standards. It is teaching them that "the pursuit of happiness" is not the "pursuit of pleasure and instant gratification." Thus it is showing them how to make difficult choices and do hard things, in spite of the choices made by others.

Freedom is living in a land whose shores and borders are defended from invasion day and night by men and women who are honored and cherished by those whom they protect whether in a distant land or in a patrol car. It is the ability to defend my rights and those of my family whether by the power of the pen or the shotgun stowed under my bed.

Freedom is an adversarial press and recourse to confront tyranny in any of its power-grabbing forms.

Freedom is not being hindered from success in my own endeavors or robbed of the nobility which arises from overcoming my own failures.

Freedom is extending a helping hand of my own volition without compulsion to my neighbor in his hour of need or turning to him in my own moment of distress.

Freedom is being governed by the "dictates of my own {principled} conscience" instead of lazily looking to "Big Brother" to do everything, thinking included, for me.


Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Wall

While I am working on "B" I thought I would post this story I wrote a few years back. It is fiction but maybe not too far from truth. It is a sad story, one the Left would use to humanize criminal action. There are however, multiple crimes taking place. The mass destruction of innocent life, the mis-directing of an innocent mind, and the overriding of agency are just a few.

The Wall

All the adults complain about the wall. Everyone has to go to the checkpoint to get in and out of town now. Some of the fields father works in are on the other side. I like the wall, especially where it runs along the field. That’s where I usually hang out when I’m not at school or doing stuff at home. I see my friends there now. The wall keeps the ball from going too far when it’s kicked out of bounds on that side. You have to be careful not to kick it over.

“Abdu, come play soccer with us,” Ishmael yells, “The teams are uneven.”

“Ishmael stops the ball, and the game, with his foot long enough for me to shake my head and yell back, “Not now, I have work to do.”

The shouting starts again as I turn my back and continue down the road. I wish I could go play, even if the ball barely has enough air in it to make it fun. As I walk on I realize I won’t get to play soccer with them anymore.

The closer to the wall I get the more people there are. They are all either trying to leave or just returning. The only people not walking are the peddlers. They sell vegetables, chickens, and falafels.

This side of the wall is like a small village now. Before the wall was put up it was all fields with one small road. Now, whenever the gate is open there are people here. There are more dogs too. The lame one has followed me around since I gave him scraps yesterday.

It’s busy here but the big city is on the other side of the wall. That’s where the shops are…where you can buy Raiders bars, CD players, and shiny soccer balls, if you have money. With the money I gave my dad I could have bought 10 soccer balls.

“Abdu, you make me very proud” father had said.

He didn’t have to ask where the sweaty bills that I had pushed into his hand came from. I thought I heard him sob as I left to go meet with the older boys.

That mangy dog is still following me. He is covered with dust and he doesn’t even try to shake the flies out of his eyes and ears. They never stop the dogs from going through the gate.

The sweat is tickling my back but I can’t scratch. I’m scared they won’t let me through the gate. I’ve never gone through by myself. The guards stare with angry faces. The queue at the gate isn’t too long. The soldiers wave people on after looking them over. A little boy holds his mother’s dress. She carries a baby. The soldier looks at the baby’s face and then signals the four of us through. He barely looks at me; he must think we’re a family.

I look back once more at where I live. Ishmael and the others are still playing soccer but I can’t hear them any more. I see the roof of my house and the school. Everything looks small and dirty. I pass through the gate.

“Abdu, you are doing very well in your studies,” he said. “Much better than the other boys your age. Soon, you will be through here.”
“Thank you,” was all I could think to say.

When the schoolmaster pulled me from class. I thought I had done something wrong. I got nervous when he said the older boys wanted me to meet with them. They are already finished with school, but I would see some of them when they come here to visit. Some of them never come back.

My father has told me it is four kilometers from the gate to the city. The three and four story buildings make it look closer. It will soon be time to plant the fields along the road. I won’t be helping father farm this season. The empty space can’t hide the slope that makes the walk home faster than the walk there. I look back and see that the dog has stopped following me. He lays in the dirt panting and looks at me as I walk on. I wish he wouldn’t leave me a lone so soon.

“Abdu, you are right on time.” was the only thing the schoolmaster had said as he let me in.

When I went to the place where the older boys meet I expected it to be something special. It was just like the house I live in. There was an old cleric there who I had never seen. He scared me and made me feel small. Two of the boys I played in the field with just last year, Khalil and Husan, came over when they saw me come in. I asked if they still played soccer, but I felt foolish when they told me that is for children. They wanted me to meet someone new. They took me over to the corner where the cleric was standing. When the holy man spoke to me his breath was foul. Some of his teeth were missing and others were black and ugly. I was told he had heard many good things about me. My faith in Allah and diligence in studying the holy writings showed everyone that I was no longer a child… but a man.

The walk has made me hot. I wish I could take off my jacket but there are too many people. The cars and trucks send dust up into the air even though the road is paved here. The small houses turn into bigger apartments. In only a few blocks distance, I stand on the sidewalk of a main street. Traffic is going both ways. There aren’t any people walking now. Everyone is riding. I turn to the right and look for a bus stop.

“Abdu, how old do you think we have to be to get into Eden and have sex with 72 virgins?” Husan had whispered.

We were in class and I almost laughed out loud.

I shrugged.

I didn’t know the answer but I found out later. You only need to be old enough to do something that proves you are a man.

Up ahead there are about twenty people standing near a shelter. As I near the bus stop I tell myself I am not scared. I can do this. Everything is exactly as they told me it would be.

“Abdu, Mohammed will be very proud of you but only if you follow my instructions exactly,” Honsi had said.

He held my face and made me look him in the eyes.

Honsi was very nice for a cleric. He was the youngest one I had ever seen.

“My father was a tailor until the Israelis killed him. He refused to leave his shop and they bulldozed it down,” He had said quietly as we looked in the mirror.

Honsi had fixed my coat so that you couldn’t tell I wore a padded vest underneath.

“Abdu, you must find a bus stop with ten or twenty people waiting. When the bus comes pull this cord,” Honsi had said as he turned my face to his.

I move to the edge of the crowd and look for the bus to come. I spot the dog I fed yesterday. He decided to follow me after all. Why did he follow me? The dog lays down beside me and a bus pulls up. I can’t kill the dog. As I get in line to get on the bus I see Honsi drive by in a car. There are no empty seats when I get on but standing I can see Honsi’s car pull over to the side of the road. I’ve never seen anyone I know with a mobile phone, I’m surprised to see Honsi with one. The bus pulls away and the dog only follows a short distance before laying down again, the bus accelerates but not forward.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

A is for Al

Al’s World
Once there where 3 great thinkers, let’s call them Al Frankin, Al Gore, and Al Sharpton. They were very smart and thought they had all the answers to the problems of the world. If only everyone would listen. So, they thought they would start a new society, one where everyone would have just what they needed, a place where Mother Earth would be returned to a pristine state.
After several years of searching and finally finding a suitable location and 1000 willing participants they were ready to get started. The volunteers gave everything they owned to the three Al’s and were agreeable to following their directions.
Al. F. was to be responsible for the morale of this new civilization. He would move from group to group telling jokes and helping the people remember how lucky they were to be part of such an important and historic undertaking. He told jokes about overweight conservatives and how they could never function in such a free and just society such as the one they were now building. Everyone laughed as they labored in the fields or ate their simple meals. At the end of the day Al F. would return home to his family and their comfortable home.
Al G. was to be the leader of industry and technology; after all he invented the Internet. He traveled from place to place to insure that internal combustion engines were no where to be found and that the dwellings being built did not adversely effect the environment. He was very good at this, what with all of his experience at Love Canal.
Al S. was to make sure that everyone was treated equally. His direct experience was small but he had been in business with the Reverend Jesse Jackson long enough to know what to do. He made certain that everyone worked equally hard and that no one had any opportunities that weren’t available to everyone else.
In what seemed like a relatively short time to the three leaders all was in order. Everyone was working hard and had a place to live. They didn’t have much but as long as everyone worked they would have food and cloths to survive. And everyone had the same, except for the three Als and their families.
Eventually the people started to notice that the only people who were different were the three Al’s. The next time Al F. went to entertain and improve moral, booing from the crowd overwhelmed him. The audience had forgotten what conservitives were since they hadn’t seen one in so long. When Al tried to make jokes about people in other areas of the new society it upset them even more because they were just like those other people. Then there were complaints that he was allowed to stay home with his kids too often while everyone else’s had to go to day care. The consensus was Al F. need to produce just like everyone else. Al left in a hurry.
Next Al G. started having problems. As he drove around in his air-conditioned limousine checking on the workers, people started to grumble. The fumes from his car and the fact that he never got his hands dirty upset them. He tried to justify what he did by saying “Someone has to do it”. The consensus was there were no other cars except his so it should go, and everyone could check up on everyone else. Just as the crowd finally decided that Al G. needed to have a real job, Al told his driver to step on it and they left the angry mob.
Al S. had problems as well. The majority of the people in Al World started to notice Al S. never really did anything even though he ate twice as much as anyone. By this time everyone was equal and all were treated fairly, or at least the same. It was decided that Al S. would have to give up his nice suits and jewelry and work like everyone else. Al left the area post haste.
The Als called an emergency meeting, just the three of them. They started arguing immediately. None of them wanted to be just like the common folk. Each thought he should be the leader there in the new land. As they quarreled they came to realize that the people did not need nor would they tolerate any leader who didn’t live as they did.

This would be a true story except that people who were duped into joining a society like that would be too stupid to finally demand that their leader become like them.

Friday, May 15, 2009


There are probably two basic types of bloggers, those with a specific vision or goal, and those who only know that they have something to say. I fall into the latter category. My wife would say I am a man of few words. This is mostly true because I determined a long time ago that my mouth would never be able to keep up with my brain. This is probably a good thing since often when I allow my mouth to engage, I quickly find myself digging a hole.

With this in mind I wish to state that my intent is not to be petty, mean spirited (too cliché), or even vindictive. I hope this to be an experiment in which I find answers to the following;

Are there any clean politicians
Is the left really as wacky as they sound
Can I vent my frustration in a pleasant and funny manner
And for Tom Green, where is the center of the universe

I have titled this blog "The Regressive Left" because I have come to realize that those who call themselves progressives, all though maybe unwittingly, hinder the advancement and growth of not just society but the individual.

There was a time when I thought the Left’s efforts intentionally evil. Observation over time has shown me that more often than not their intentions are good, just misguided. There appears to an inherent tendency on behalf of the Left to want to change the world from the top down and thereby change the individual. Whereas most right thinking people feel it is the individual’s responsibility to change and thereby make the world a better place.

So the Left and the Right both want to improve things but the philosophies for how this should be done is where the two groups are at odds. And now with the Democratic Party in charge the Liberals are quick to offer advice on how the Republicans should improve their image. At the top of that list is for the Right to offer plans instead of tearing down current policy.

The left loves that idea because it would force the Right to get into a bidding war as to what the federal government will do for the citizen. This is in direct opposition to conservative principals, and exactly why the effects of liberalism are regressive. Any movement towards dependence of the people upon the government weakens the psyche of the individual and enslaves the human spirit.

This does not dismiss the responsibility of the federal government to preserve and protect the United States constitution. This is meant to highlight the importance of the individual uplifting his neighbor, voluntarily and happily. The tendency towards charity requires that their be a need, if the government is going to shoulder 100 percent of this responsibility then all that is left is to confiscate the resources of the “haves” in order to give to “have-nots.”

So rather than try and one up the Left with what services the right will provide all who live in the boarders of the United States, I will try to recognize the good will intended by the “Regressives” while at the same time pointing out how false and ludicrous the premises of the Left are, from Al to Zen.