National Day of Silence

I’m putting off a promised rant about the huge event I went to last night in celebration of working women (which included, among other things, a hot legs contest… we’ve come a long way, baby) in order to speak up about something much more near and dear to me.

It’s the National Day of Silence today. A day when everyone, regardless of any personal beliefs about whether or not homosexuality is right or wrong in the eyes of God, is encouraged to consider for one single day what it feels like to be forced not to speak when others are free to do so. I think we all agree that it is simply not tolerable for a society founded on a belief in civil liberty and personal freedoms to selectively practice hatred and dehumanization towards the actions or feelings of a group of people just because they believe that what they do is wrong.

I would hope that we all recognize the simple truth that some people (middle school students, members of the military, etc..) must hide who they are in order to protect their careers and/or their overall ability to live a life free from physical or verbal abuse. And this is wrong.

What are you doing to celebrate this year? I’m blogging, and I’m staying silent at work insofar as I can.  I’m also writing my congressional representatives to let them know how I feel about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  I encourage everyone to do the same.  Today, not tomorrow, because some things just shouldn’t wait. 

Wouldn’t it be great if in 2010, we supported our troops by letting them come home to be greeted by the ones they loved, regardless of gender or sexual orientation?

Respectfully silent, hoping for that day…

Kem

Restoring America’s Promise*

*Certain exceptions may apply, traditional definitions of man and woman as the only legitimate relationship eligible for consideration are implicit.  See blog for details on the inauguration festivities, but note that we have left out anything related to the selection or participation of bigots like Rick Warren to break the bottle of champagne over the hull of the Hope and Change vessel.

“The Presidential Inaugural Committee, at the direction of President-elect Obama and Vice President-elect Biden, will organize an inclusive and accessible inauguration that reflects the new Administration’s commitment to leadership that sets aside partisanship and unites the nation around our shared values and ideals.”

One would assume, from the mission statement, that there is some care being taken to avoid offending a substantial portion of the population during the planning process for the festivities.  I’m celebrating my National Day of Service early by posting some statistics on just how united we are on the question of whether or not there should be a ban on gay marriage.  Whether or not Obama says he is against such a ban, allowing Mr. Warren any kind of podium tied to the swearing in ceremonies is legitimizing his opinions.   But first, some exciting and very divisive charts (courtesy of the folks at religioustolerence.org).  

Trends in public support for gay and lesbian domestic partners on additional topics (2000 to 2008):

Topic	Year 2000 support	2004 support	2008 support
Support for inheritance rights	62%	60%	74%
Support for Social Security benefits	54	55	67
Health insurance & other employee benefits	58	60	73
Hospital visitation rights for partners	-	-	86

Trends in public support for individual gays and lesbians:

Topic	Year 2000 support	2004 support	2008 support
Support to serve openly in the military	57%	60%	66%
Support for equal rights in job opportunities	83	87	87
Support for equal rights in housing	78	-	82
Support for hiring as elementary school teachers	60	-	62
Support for hiring as high school teachers	63	-	69

Trends in the way that the public prefers that same-sex relationships be recognized … or not:

Topic	Year 2004 support	2006 support	2008 support
Support full marriage rights	28%	24%	31%
Support civil unions or domestic partnerships	23	27	32
Oppose any recognition; treat them as simple roommates	43	37	30

Given the fact that 90% of Americans opposed interracial marriage in 1948, and today those people are called bigots, I think these facts are worth looking over.  Family is complicated, romance moreso.  There is demonstrably a growing recognition in the American public that we really need to mind our own business and get on with the day-to-day activities of making the world a better place without worrying about how and who other people choose to love.

Since I’ve got a penchant for posting poetry from time to time, I’d like to take a pause here to share the poem Maya Angelou wrote for Bill Clinton’s second inauguration.  I was there to hear her read it.  It brought me to tears then, and it brings me to tears now, and I think it’s worth re-reading so we can contrast these two fundamentally different Americas that we live in today. 

On the Pulse of Morning     by Maya Angelou

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers–desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot …
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours–your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning. 

…

Compare that to the inspirational words of Obama’s spiritual leaders:

In the “Reverse Racism is Cool, Kids” corner, Reverend Jeremiah White:

“Barack knows what it means living in a country and a culture that is controlled by rich white people. Hillary would never know that. Hillary ain’t never been called a nigger. Hillary has never had a people defined as a non-person.”

“God damn America for treating our citizens as less than human. God damn America for as long as she acts like she is God and she is supreme.”

Rick Warren (all of these from the Pew forum debate on the Myths of the Modern Megachurch , which is worth a read just to get a good glimpse at what pluralism means to the modern-day Billy Graham), speaking from the “As Long As God Agrees With Me, and Everyone Else Agrees With God, Screw the Homos” perspective:

“In looking at a hierarchy of evil, I would say homosexuality is not the worst sin. But I would also say homosexuality is not natural. I think that there are certain parts of a body that are made to fit together. “

“I think a gay person has the right to make their case and I think I have a right to make my case. And I think that in a democracy, we have a right to vote on it. I do not believe in judges who go out and find all kinds of excuses to thwart the will of the majority.”

So, basically, until the majority believes that gay marriage is okay, he’s free to keep doing his best to try to convince his followers that God wants them to vote against gay marriage.  Interesting.

Shame on us for not facing up to the issue and forcing it to become a part of the national dialogue now that the election is over.  We’ve come a long way baby, but it sadly appears to be in the wrong direction.  Unless you’re against gay people having the right to be more than just roomies in the eyes of their friends and family.  In which case, we’re headed in the right direction.

Presidential Inaugural Committee, on behalf of the majority of Americans who aren’t religious nutjobs, congratulations on a fairly epic fail.

Marijuana, Marijuana, LSD, PCP…

…Ronald Reagan smokes it, Nancy Reagan does it, why can’t we, why can’t we?Ah, childhood.  That time of innocence, when kids are a blank slate and free of all of the baggage of adulthood.  Except, of course, for the fact that this is *ahem* bullshit.  I learned the song above (sung to the tune of “Are You Sleeping”) before George H.W. Bush was in office, which means I was still in elementary school.  This was before the internet, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t learn it from my teachers, my mom and dad, or the older siblings I didn’t have.So, with that in mind, I think it’s time for a nice long ramble about pot.  I think it’s worth stating upfront here that I do not currently use any illegal substances, simply because I don’t enjoy it anymore.  I’m a mom, I’ve got too much to lose if I got caught.  However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have strong views about the whole “Better Living through Pharmaceuticals” thing. 

Carl Sagan, Hippy Dippy Scientist Extraordinaire, said it best in his essay “Mr. X”:

“the illegality of cannabis is outrageous, an impediment to full utilization of a drug which helps produce the serenity and insight, sensitivity and fellowship so desperately needed in this increasingly mad and dangerous world.”

Now, I’m not saying that it’s impossible to live in peace and harmony without tinkering with the brain. But maybe there’s something to this? It’s simply true that some people are better equipped by nature to deal with life than others (see also: bipolar disorders and other genetic or other mishaps that lead to issues with coping), and it’s also true that the variety of experiences we grow up with and struggle to deal with as adolescents and adults can be a bit damaging. Some more so than others.

So we look for a means of escape.  It’s totally natural, human instinct.  Some people do it with books or video games, other people do it with fast food and television.  Some people do it with drugs.  Intoxication of one form or another has been a part of human history for thousands of years, in cultures all around the planet.  From psychedelic vision quests to the workers who built the pyramids and took their payment in the form of beer, we’ve been using drugs for a very long time (some cultures more successfully than others).  I think it’s easy to forget that our nation was founded by people who, by and large, drank much, much more than what would be considered acceptable social drinking today.  As Benjamin Franklin put it so succinctly, “Alcohol may be man’s worst enemy, but the Bible says love your enemy.”  Still, actual binge drinking, the sort that resulted in people being unable to get themselves home or say and do things that would horrify them in the morning if they could actually remember them, was fairly rare and certainly not socially acceptable.

I think whether or not drug use or even drug abuse is tolerated in the public eye or not has much more to do with the likelihood that people will develop dangerous addictions than the addictive qualities of the drug itself.   I may be alone in this one, but I also think that addiction itself is only a health problem if the cons outweigh the pros in an objective analysis.  Conflate the two (i.e., all drug use is drug abuse, use it once and you will become addicted/a criminal/a bad person/a failure), and we’re setting ourselves up to fail.  The teenager who sneaks a beer and drinks it in the garage just to see what all the billboards are about (and, perhaps, is mildly disappointed when girls in bikinis don’t magically appear) becomes “a drinker”.  If that same teenager thinks that his parents are likely to ground him if they ever find out that he snuck a beer, he is likely to have his second, or third, or three-hundred-and-first beer in secret as well.  The same goes for the stoner, the benzo addict, or the World of Warcraft junkie who hasn’t seen daylight in weeks.

How can you look at something objectively if it’s not out in the open?

Abby what?

(A rant from my abnormal psych class about why little boys have more problems then little girls, but women are way more fucked up than men.)

One of the disadvantages to broad psych courses where we cover so much ground is that we have to aim wide and then move on to the next topic. When I was taking child psych, I was reading about Bowen’s family systems theory at the same time and I wanted desperately to reinterpret everything I was reading as part of a larger picture. It seemed like the textbook was just scratching the surface. The six-year-old boy in the case study on page x isn’t just bad at prosocial communication, he’s building relationships in response to epigenetic factors that have influenced the way his family reacts to him and the way that he interprets how others respond to him. Maybe his uncle is in jail for murder. Whether or not the child shares genetic markers that lead toward antisocial or even sociopathic tendencies, his father will still respond to the call home from the principal with memories of being pushed into a wall himself–and learning to push back. Nothing happens in a vacuum.

There’s an undercurrent to this discussion that seems to touch on the goals we set for our children and how well they line up with societal messages about what it means to be a successful man or woman. For instance, the dad who wants his son to do well in hockey even if it means clobbering an opponent when the ref isn’t looking is sending a message that lines up well with everything he sees on TV about violence and how “real” men use it to get ahead. The overweight shy girl whose older sister gives more affection to her skinny extroverted sister than she does to her learns that people who are beautiful are more lovable. Later on in the school playground, a couple of girls follow her around and call her Rosie O’Donnel. Again, the message is reinforced.

With boys, though, the negative messages are easier to channel into healthy competitive behavior. They grow up, and they use that instinct to get ahead in the world. Even if they fail, they have a fall back self-image as a “hard working man” to rely on. There’s a therapy group that meets every night for that down the road from my house… it’s called a bar.

 

Women aren’t quite so lucky. When our little-girl dreams of being Cinderella crash into the real-life shortage of bona fide Prince Charming’s, it’s much easier for us to blame ourselves for our lack of good character and exquisite beauty. If only we were more perfect! It must be some flaw in our nature, and perhaps if we beat ourselves up enough, we’ll be better next year. I mean, sure, it’s hard to be perfect when you’re getting yelled at for being imperfect all the time, but it’s still our responsibility to bear that burden serenely and kindly, and try not to let it get us down, right?

Who knows. Maybe one of these days we’ll start measuring Gross National Happiness the way they do in Bhutan, where the average person makes quite a bit less than minimum wage, but the priorities in life are psychological, not based on material success or a sharper image. Until that day, it does at least give me something to rant about.

“Kafka, begin the Metamorphasis!”

With the markets tanking and government health care still a plank in the platform of the frontrunner in the Presidential race, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at this.  It’s from “The McSweeney’s Joke Book of Book Jokes” (link), and it’s cruel and unusually funny.

SOCIAL SECURITY DENIES
GREGOR SAMSA’S DISABILITY CLAIM

by Alex St. Andrews

Important Notice
GREGOR SAMSA is Not Eligible for SSI
We are writing about GREGOR SAMSA’s claim for Supplemental Security Income (SSI) payments.  Based on a review of his/her medical condition, he/she does not qualify for SSI payments on this claim.  This is because he/she is not disabled or blind under our rules.

The Decision on GREGOR SAMSA’s Case
You listed the following impairment(s) on your SSI application:
I AM A GIGANTIC COCKROACH
DEPRESSION
BACK PAIN

You said the above impairment(s) affected you in the following way(s):
I CANNOT STAND OR WALK UPRIGHT OR SPEAK ANY HUMAN LANGUAGE.

I CANNOT HANDLE OR MANIPULATE OBJECTS WITH MY MANY LEGS OR ANTENNAE.

WHEN I AM ON MY BACK I HAVE DIFFICULTY RIGHTING MYSELF.

MY FAMILY HAS IMPRISONED ME IN MY ROOM AND IS FEEDING ME SCRAPS.

The following report(s) were used to decide this claim:

• You did not show up for your Consultative Exam.  We scheduled an appointment with an examining physician at our expense.  You were asked if you required a taxi or other arranged transportation to the exam.
• We received no medical records related to your alleged condition(s) of I AM A GIGANTIC COCKROACH, DEPRESSION, BACK PAIN.

Doctors and other trained staff looked at this case and made this decision.  They work for the state but used our rules.  The following findings were made:

• You are not engaged in any substantial gainful activity.
• Your impairment causes more than minimal limitations
• Although your impairment(s) result in some problems for you, which are more than minimal, they do not equal any of the impairments listed in Table 2 of Appendix 1 to Subpart P of Chapter 20, Part 404 of Federal Regulations (“the Listings”).
• You are not able to perform your previous employment.  You listed the following job(s) in your work history report:
       TRAVELING SALESMAN
• We have determined that your impairment prevents you from continuing in your previous employment, because you cannot handle or finger your sample cases, you cannot speak any human language, and your customers will be frightened monstrous clicking mandibles
• You are able to perform other work which exists in substantial numbers in the national economy.  A vocational expert was consulted, and determined that your Residual Functioning Capacity (RFC) allows you to perform the following jobs:
  STAPLING MACHINE OPERATOR
  NUCLEAR WASTE MANAGEMENT
  ENTERTAINER (foreign cinema, circus)
  TAX PREPARER

If You Disagree with the Decision
If you disagree with this decision, you have the right to appeal. We will review your case and consider any new facts you have.  You have to ask for an appeal in writing.  We will ask you to sign a form SS-561-U2, called “Request for Reconsideration.”  If you cannot sign your name, you may mark the line with an X, but you must provide two witnesses willing to sign to your identity.  If you cannot mark the line with an X, we will provide you with a special identity stamp.  If you cannot handle or finger the identiry stamp, we will ask you to come into our office and frantically paw at a ream of carbon triplicate paper, but you must provide two witnesses willing to sign to your identity.
     If you do call or visit an office, please have this letter with you.  It will help us answer your questions.  You must have your Social Security card and a current picture ID to enter the building.

     Sincerely,

     Barnabas Klamm
     Regional Commissioner

Rumorgate ‘08

Finally had some time to catch up on the Weekly World News this evening… err… I mean, politics.  And may I just say, what the fuck, Chuck?  Are we seriously in a world right now where we get someone who lacks the prerequisite Y chromosome on a major party ticket, and the only thing people want to talk about is whether or not she faked her pregnancy to cover up for her daughter, and what it means that her daughter is pregnant out of wedlock?  Did I just enter some parallel universe where the blogosphere and Judge Judy collided and had a bastard kid?  Daily Kos had a massive article up earlier this evening (since pulled) that stopped just short of demanding a maternity test before she could be considered fit for office.  Fortunately, they’ve since managed to get a grip and realize that just because they’re a bit jealous of a 44-year-old woman who goes through pregnancy looking like a… well… pageant queen, doesn’t mean she put on a “slightly prego” suit and paid off the doctors in Hicksville to play make believe in order to protect her daughter’s honor.

I’m not a real big fan of some of Palin’s positions.  The whole deal with her sister’s jerk of an ex [who used a taser on our future VP's nephew because the kid was curious about how it felt (?!?)] rubs me the wrong way.  I’m not a big fan of harassing and then firing the guy who is just trying to do his job because he won’t clean things up the way you want.  I like a do-it-yourself approach, but it doesn’t speak terribly well for her diplomatic judgment.  If you had to fire every abusive jerk on the police force, it would do a lot to open up the job market… sometimes it just isn’t that easy to do the right thing and patient change is called for.

On the other hand, she has that whole She-Ra meets Wonder Woman thing going on that I really like.  Meh.  More research, less news about illigitimate babies and back-from-the-dead cover-up scenarios.  Just because she looks like a cartoon superhero doesn’t mean we need to invent a script for her.  Kudos to Obama for calling it off-limits and telling America to please just grow up a little.

And a few of my own

Yoda Eat Your Heart Out

Perfect faith is for perfect people,
the ultimate snake oil fantasy
teaching us only disappointment in our quest
for something more.
Do or do not do?
Please.
We are all only constantly trying,
with the crushing weight of possibility
ahead of us
and the achievements and failures in our past spurring us
onward
to embrace what is and imagine what might be
to believe,
imperfectly,
in our own fragile strength
to live with grace and to fall with dignity.
It is not a simple thing, and it isn’t simply done.
But it is certainly worth a try.

Sucking marrow from the bones of life

Been in a writing mood lately, and some of it I’m actually proud enough to want to share with the general public. Odd how anxiety attacks seem to spark poetry like nothing else in the world. Had one a couple of weeks back when I was out of town and my car needed emergency repairs and the bank was overdrawn and stress levels were just generally intolerable, so I went digging through the web to find the old poem I used to do for Verse reading back in High School.

Amazing how time can change the way you look at something. I mean, I got it as a teenager… kind of necessary when you’re performing it every week, analyzing the levels to make sure that every last shred of gut-wrenching emotion hangs in your voice… but I didn’t really understand the whole rage and shame against your own self-pity and bad decisions aspect.   So we’ll start with someone else’s work to kick things off, because it’s a damned good piece on what it means to love unconditionally in an abusive situation, and how difficult it is to trust your instincts when you’ve finally said goodbye to that chapter in your life.

The Pink Dress
by Diane Wakoski

(c. 1970, from her anthology Emerald Ice)

I could not wear that pink dress tonight.
The velvet one
lace tinting the cuffs with all
the coffee
of longing. My bare shoulder
slipping whiter
than foam
out of the night to remind me
of my own
vulnerability.

I could not wear that pink dress tonight
because it is a dress
that slips memories like
the hands
of obscene strangers
all over my body.
And in my fatigue I could not fight away the images
and their mean touching.

I couldn’t wear that pink dress,
the velvet one you had made for me,
all year, you know.

I thought I would tonight because
once again
you have let me enter your house
and look at myself
some mornings
in your mirrors.
But
I could not wear that pink dress tonight
because it reminded me
of everything
that hurts.

It reminded me of a whole year
during which
I wandered,
a gypsy,
and could not come into your house.
It reminded me of the picture of a blond girl
you took with you to Vermont
and shared your woods with.
The pretty face you left over your bed to stare
at me
and remind me
each night
that you preferred her face to mine,
and which you left there to stare at me
even when you saw how it
broke me,
my calm,
like a stick smashing across my own
plain, lonesome face,
and a face which you only
took down
from your wall
after I had mutilated it
and pushed pins in it to get those smug
smiling eyes off my cold
winter
body.

I couldn’t wear that pink dress tonight
because it reminded me
of the girl who made it,
whom you slept with
last year while I was sitting in hotel rooms
wondering why I had to live
with a face
so stony no man could love it.

I could not wear that pink dress
because it reminded me
of how I camp on your doorstep now,
still a gypsy,
still a colorful imaginative beggar
in my pink dress,
building a fire in the landowner’s
woods, and my own fierceness
that deserts me
when a man
no, when you,
show a little care and concern for my presence.

I could not wear that pink dress tonight.
It betrayed all that was strong in me.
The leather boots I wear to stomp through the world
and remind everyone
of the silver and gold and diamonds
from fairy tales
glittering in their lives.
And of the heavy responsibility
we all must bear
just being so joyfully alive
just letting the blood take its own course
in intact vessels
in veins.

That pink dress betrayed my one favorite image
-the motorcyclist riding along the highway
independent
alone
exhilarated with movement
a blackbird
more beautiful than any white ones.

But I went off
not wearing the pink dress,
thinking how much I love you
and how if a woman loves a man who does not love her back
it is, as some good poet said,
a pain in the ass.
For both of them.

I went off thinking about all the girls
you preferred to me.
Leaving behind that dress,
remembering one of the colors
of pain
Remembering that my needs
affront you,
my face is not beautiful to you;
you would not share your woods with me.

And the irony
of my images.
That you are the motorcycle rider.
Not I.
I am perhaps,
at best
the pink dress
thrown against the back
of the chair.
The dress I could not wear
tonight.

Obama to Small Town America: Buy a Thesaurus

I’ve held back on talking about this for a few days to let this whole thing stew. Sometimes my knee-jerk reaction to political speeches ages over time. I read the people who disagree with me, and I find myself agreeing with them. I wanted to make sure that this wasn’t one of those times.

It’s not.

What I really think was a well-intentioned attempt to explain just what it means to be down and out when you’re not in Beverly Hills or a San Fransisco mansion on Billionaires Row turned into the sort of thing you say at the water cooler, not in the board room. People keep trying to contextualize it, or soften it up, but the simple truth is that being an executive means that you emphasize the best qualities of the people you lead, and are very specific about the bad– the only reason you mention them is if you see a problem that you are ready to address.

As a candidate in the primaries, this is not his task. This is a job that parents and educators need to address with young people, and that adults who may find themselves falling into the sort of security blanket isolationism Obama is talking about need to figure out for themselves. I have to wonder what the ramifications would be if he said something along similar lines that “everyone knew was true” about Ahmadinejad. After all, he says things about us that I’m sure resonate with Iranians, and even some Americans. Doesn’t it make sense for us to be just as honest when we look at the world stage?

As pundits, sure. We can say what we want at the water cooler, and elect leaders who we feel understand what we’re saying and can translate our sentiments into strong foreign policy. As leaders? No. You don’t look to the CEO of a large company to say that the problems with the company stem from the ineptitude of the workers. This may be something that everyone in the board room knows is true, but it’s *not* the way to move forward and inspire better performance in the future.

The correct response to this question should have been, “I like to think that it’s a vanishingly small number of American voters who look at race as a deciding factor when they choose their candidate. My campaign is not about racial differences, it’s about speaking to the needs of every American.” End of story, no thesaurus needed.

Fundamental Truths

Consciousness and belief formation are complex topics, but I’d like to take a shot at tackling them here. As a rule, we all tend to assume that people who say things which support our core beliefs are fundamentally like us, even though they might not be at all. Likewise, we tend to assume that people who say things that contradict our core beliefs are fundamentally *not* like us, even though that might not be true, either.

I recently had someone tell me that the statements, “I’m not convinced that there is a God out there, but I don’t rule out the possibility that one exists” and “I’m an atheist because I do not believe in God,” were mutually exclusive. That I myself was guilty of the kind of irrational faith that I question and even occasionally ridicule when I run across it in others.

I can only respond that they absolutely are not contradictory. I don’t personally believe in a god or gods. I have no reason to believe that they exist, in no small part because any such belief about the nature of such a God would be completely arbitrary.. an accident of what sounds best. This does not mean that I utterly rule out the possibility of a god or gods, it just means that I don’t see any evidence to suggest that such god or gods exist. The difference is what ontological arguments are all about. More on that here.

It’s possible that there may very well be a god or gods that set the whole shebang in motion, but our human presence here on this pale blue dot is utterly unimportant to that god or gods. It’s possible that there may very well be a god or gods, and our human presence here is essential to some greater plan for the whole Universe. It’s also possible that any number of scenarios in between these two extremes could exist, but that doesn’t make the ontological argument compelling to me. It just means that these are possibilities. I don’t see any reason to believe them, but they are possibilities. Just like Russel’s teapot and the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

As a former (and, I might add, rather devout) theist, I freely admit that the existence of a supreme guiding intelligence is far more compelling than the existence of an Invisible Pink Unicorn or any other variation thereof. But, and here’s the crucial thing here, I have no *reason* to believe that any of them do exist. I can theorize that the world would be a more perfect place if they did, but that doesn’t make supernatural forces suddenly pop into existence. It doesn’t negate their presence if they do exist. It just means I don’t see a reason to believe that they do.

Even Dawkins doesn’t rule out the possibility of a God. He just states the rather ordinary truth that imagining that the Universe exists solely to give rise to and direct the course of human history is creating God in man’s image in a rather severe way.  (If there is a God, I suspect He’s even more partial to hydrogen and helium than He is to beetles.)

Show me evidence of the nature of God tomorrow in a way that no two people can disagree on, a way that meets the traditional definition of God as a supernatural force intervening in human affairs in a way that simply cannot be explained any other way, and I’m a believer. But I don’t find the God of the Gaps a compelling one. “Miracles” as I have seen them so far are simply the holes in our understanding, made clear by the blinding insights of some scientific genius, rendered mundane on close scrutiny, or left decidedly unknown. While it’s technically possible that a God or Gods would care enough about our speck of dust in the Milky Way to intervene directly in our affairs, but not care enough to clarify the “Thou Shalt Not Kill” rule by sweeping away some of the more prevalent confusion about precisely which Will should or should not be done… well, it strains credulity for me.

And as far as the whole “fundamentalist atheist” thing goes–to the best of my knowledge, I have not ever slapped down anyone’s speculation as long as it’s framed in those terms. I have simply pointed out the reasons why I don’t find that speculation compelling. It’s when speculation is presented as incontrovertible evidence for a Truth which cannot be questioned even though it’s completely arbitrary– an accident of geography, and utterly interchangeable with myths from another corner of the globe which would be just as incontrovertible for precisely the same reasons if the person preaching that truth had been born in a different spot or to different parents… yeah, that’s when I get a little slap-happy.

But that’s alright. A True Believer can take it and dish it back, and it’s all in good fun. I know I certainly did when I was a True Believer, and anyone who can’t take the heat isn’t really committed to a spiritual quest, IMO.