Commentary

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Revisionist History: The Civil War, Slavery and States’ Rights

Words are powerful things. Simply changing one word in a sentence can completely change its meaning and how listeners understand what is being discussed. Nowhere is this more evident than in the recounting of history. As collective memory fades and ultimately disappears with the passage of time, it becomes all the more important to challenge (and correct) modern day retellings of historic events that have been shaded and reframed over time to the point that today’s narrative could, and should, be labeled a lie of omission, if not commission. What am I talking about? This. “The Civil War was about State’s rights, not about slavery.”

Of course the Civil War was about states’ rights. That statement, in and of itself, is true. Or rather, true, but incomplete and, in its incompleteness, substantively false in its modern presentation. The incompleteness rests in the obvious question this statement raises: the seceding states’ right to do what?

To answer this question, I am not going to give my view or that of historians and commentators, but rather, am going to present the actual statements and justifications of the seceding states and the subsequently formed Confederate States of America. This information seems particularly timely given that yesterday, March 11^th, was the 150th anniversary of the adoption of the Confederate Constitution by the Confederate Congress. The Confederate Constitution was very similar to the original US Constitution. However, as explained by Professor of History, Stephanie McCurry: “there were, however, a few significant changes. They purged the text of all of the ambivalences, compromises and hedges about slavery, representation and the power of the federal government that had plagued the republic since the founding.”

If the actual Confederate Constitution does not settle the question of how important maintaining the institution of slavery was to the seceding states, let’s look at a couple of the Declarations of the Causes of Seceding States that preceded the drafting of the Confederate Constitution.

Mississippi (Adopted January 9, 1861): In the momentous step which our State has taken of dissolving its connection with the government of which we so long formed a part, it is but just that we should declare the prominent reasons which have induced our course.

Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery– the greatest material interest of the world. Its labor supplies the product which constitutes by far the largest and most important portions of commerce of the earth. These products are peculiar to the climate verging on the tropical regions, and by an imperious law of nature, none but the black race can bear exposure to the tropical sun. These products have become necessities of the world, and a blow at slavery is a blow at commerce and civilization. That blow has been long aimed at the institution, and was at the point of reaching its consummation. There was no choice left us but submission to the mandates of abolition, or a dissolution of the Union, whose principles had been subverted to work out our ruin.

Georgia (Adopted January 29, 1861): The people of Georgia having dissolved their political connection with the Government of the United States of America, present to their confederates and the world the causes which have led to the separation. For the last ten years we have had numerous and serious causes of complaint against our non-slave-holding confederate States with reference to the subject of African slavery. They have endeavored to weaken our security, to disturb our domestic peace and tranquility, and persistently refused to comply with their express constitutional obligations to us in reference to that property …

The people of Georgia have ever been willing to stand by this bargain, this contract; they have never sought to evade any of its obligations; they have never hitherto sought to establish any new government; they have struggled to maintain the ancient right of themselves and the human race through and by that Constitution. But they know the value of parchment rights in treacherous hands, and therefore they refuse to commit their own to the rulers whom the North offers us. Why? Because by their declared principles and policy they have outlawed $3,000,000,000 of our property in the common territories of the Union; put it under the ban of the Republic in the States where it exists and out of the protection of Federal law everywhere; because they give sanctuary to thieves and incendiaries who assail it to the whole extent of their power, in spite of their most solemn obligations and covenants; because their avowed purpose is to subvert our society and subject us not only to the loss of our property but the destruction of ourselves, our wives, and our children, and the desolation of our homes, our altars, and our firesides. To avoid these evils we resume the powers which our fathers delegated to the Government of the United States, and henceforth will seek new safeguards for our liberty, equality, security, and tranquility.

Texas (Adopted Feb. 2, 1861): We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable.

That in this free government all white men are and of right ought to be entitled to equal civil and political rights; that the servitude of the African race, as existing in these States, is mutually beneficial to both bond and free, and is abundantly authorized and justified by the experience of mankind, and the revealed will of the Almighty Creator, as recognized by all Christian nations; while the destruction of the existing relations between the two races, as advocated by our sectional enemies, would bring inevitable calamities upon both and desolation upon the fifteen slave-holding states.…

For these and other reasons, solemnly asserting that the federal constitution has been violated and virtually abrogated by the several States named, seeing that the federal government is now passing under the control of our enemies to be diverted from the exalted objects of its creation to those of oppression and wrong, and realizing that our own State can no longer look for protection, but to God and her own sons– We the delegates of the people of Texas, in Convention assembled, have passed an ordinance dissolving all political connection with the government of the United States of America and the people thereof…

In presenting these statements, I do not want to suggest that northern Yankees should assert any claim to moral superiority. Indeed, the current mistruths about the North and Slavery are just as problematic and dishonest. But, let’s all be clear about one thing. The next time you hear someone claim that the Civil War was about states’ rights and not about slavery, please correct those to two little words: It was about the states’ rights to continue slavery.

The Confederate Constitution (with highlighted changes and explanations by Prof. McCurry)

In The Drink

Hi Crasstalkers!

1:33pm EST It’s ihatediamonds and I have a confession. Since 12/25/10 I have had exactly two glasses of champagne.
I know what you are thinking, I’m not about to reveal that I’m an alcoholic. I’ve just been training really hard in the gym and booze and 1000 calorie-burning workouts don’t really mix.

But today, all bets are off! I’m at the Extreme Beer Fest in Boston with a few of my nearest and dearest.

For your reading pleasure, I’m going to live blog this little adventure.

1:48 the only other black girl here and I just shared a knowing, hazy glance

1:41 beginning to sober up waiting in line. But there is carrot cake beer on the other end. I will not be deterred!

1:50 I’ve already fucked up my time line. Awesome. Also thank god for iPhone auto capitalization.

2:02 breaking the seal.

2:15 I love girl beers. Hatas to the left. There are a lot of bearded
dudes basically mainling Sierra Nevadas jelly bean beer. So
stout/porter snobs can fuck a duck.

2:25 just played a game of find the nipple with friends P and E while
in line. Classy

2:39 extreme beer Fest major pro amazing ladies room

3:06 so erd up a bit with header jalrpeno pretzel. Perfect drunk
food.

3:24 sigted pregnant person drinking, disturbed

3:28 drank gloden delicious. Pretty sure named for me

3:48 lost feinds in crowd. Drunk why are people wearing top hats?

4:15 favorite beer of the day Sam Adams Chocolate Cherry Bock

4:22 friend P, single male it’s slim pickings all round

4:34 Short break blogging will resume at Harpoon Brewey at 6pm

6:23 Tasty Burger in Fenway. It’s not In & Out and Burgerville but
om nom nom

9:01 at harpoon Brewey! Raspberry beer is pleasure. Trying to
upload photos. Failing.

9:43 drinking since 1pm solid 8 hour day of beer drinking. I’m ether
beyond drubbj of fucksing wasted.

10:40 waiting for the D line at park st. My feet are weeping. Soundtrack: Bishop Allen. Thanks for following today.

12:04am I would give someone the blow job of their lives for a foot rub… if I didn’t end up passed out on their crotch from exhaustion. Waking up with balls imprinted on your face can’t be a good look.

Sidenote: (oh god…I’m a little drunk already) this place is full of penises. Lala I’m going in for the kill… Maybe.

La Vida Sencilla (The Simple Life)

Now that I am only a month or two away from moving away from the tiny Mexican pueblo – about an hour away from Puerto Vallarta – that has been my home for the last seven years, the anticipation I felt at returning to live in the United States has been replaced by a general feeling of dread, a kind of malaise of the soul. All I can think of is how much I will miss almost everything about this town: most especially, my warm, welcoming and easily communicative neighbors, none of whom speaks English. They have all been tremendously patient with me as I chatter away in my amusingly broken Spanish (although it is far better than it was when I arrived with five years of long-ago language schooling and little practical experience speaking it).

I am flummoxed as to why in the U.S., Mexicans have received an undeserved reputation as being lazy; it is my experience that nothing could be further from the truth. In addition to witnessing how hard they work, I have also come to greatly respect their sense of reverence for family – extending quite literally from the cradle to the grave. I have been fortunate to have been invited to baptisms, quincinieras (a huge party for a girl’s 15th birthday), weddings and funerals over the years, and always, I have been treated with respect even though I am clearly not a native Mexican.

The picture accompanying this post is the view from the roof of my house; the vacant lot next door is home to a couple of cows and an obviously nocturnal donkey who serenades us often in the middle of the night. Chickens and dogs wander freely, and herds of goats and cows traverse the town’s small and perilously uneven cobblestone streets. Horses are mostly used for transporting tourists curious about our unusual bucolic existence. Young children safely walk unescorted through the streets; traffic is light, drivers are cautious in town, and everyone here knows each other, which enhances a feeling of safety as well as community.

Elsewhere in Mexico, there have been reports of rampant violence related to drug cartels and/or high unemployment. In Puerto Vallarta, the cruise lines imposed a moratorium on cruises into the are which lasted almost a year. But the violence which Bad Karma wrote about in his article on San Miguel de Allende (12 hours away from here) has, thankfully, not affected us. There have been an increase of break-ins in a wealthy nearby enclave, but no injuries or deaths as a result.

Fortunately, the word has gotten out that this area is a relatively safe one, and the cruise ships and tourists are back in force, sampling the various Mexican delicacies – from taco stands to high-end restaurants – sunning and surfing on the glorious beaches and shopping at the tianguis (outdoor bazaar-style stalls), locally owned shops or expansive malls. This is the best time of year, weather wise – it is absolutely ideal – and many tourists come to seek brief refuge from their inhospitable home environs. A friend of mine just regrettably returned to Chicago after two weeks in paradise. Her response upon returning home was a terse “I don’t even want to talk about it.”

After living in such a friendly, open and free environment, my concern is that living back in the U.S. will feel stultifying to me in comparison with the liberation I’ve been so blessed to experience here. My hope is that the friendships that I form (and re-incite) when I return to America will encourage me to continue being as warm, kind and open as my Mexican neighbors have inspired me to be.

Infinite Mourning: How Personal Grudges Become Congressional Hearings

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As Peter King looked out over the circus he had convened yesterday he only had one thing on his mind: revenge. And this time it was personal.

“It was personal, he says, for everyone in his Long Island district, which was home to dozens of the police, firefighters and financial workers who died at the World Trade Center.” It was time for him to finally have revenge upon those that had so cruelly turned their shoulders on him all those years ago.

You see, King knows that Muslims are more likely to engage in terrorist activities because, well, they’re Muslim and the Islamic faith is inherently violent. Wait. That sounds an awful lot like racism and gross generalization. Nevertheless, King, the chairman of the House Homeland Security Committee has seen it first hand; that’s right King has seen Muslim-Americans being Muslims, right here in America. King has actually spent a lot of time with the Muslim-American community so he should definitely know what they’re all about. King insists that “radicalization” (I think this means they’ve started skateboarding and listening to Suicidal Tendencies) in fucking rampant in Muslim-American communities, so much so that it’s necessary to hold hearings about it. Obviously these hearings are complete bullshit and really serve to either 1) ease the paranoia of King and similarly minded political friends or 2) maintain the discourse of scary Muslim terrorists maybe working at your local deli, plotting to put a stick of dynamite in your corn beef and rye. Actually, it’s probably a bit of both, wouldn’t you say? And to think King accused his detractors of being hysterical.

You see, King’s hearings smack all too much of political pandering. Back in January people gathered at the Long Island Islamic Center to discuss the upcoming hearings and what could be done to stop them. However, for this mosque the issue was particularly upsetting. “He used to come to our weddings. He ate dinner in our homes,” the mosque’s chairman, Habeeb Ahmed, said of King, the man whom is supposed to represent them in congress. No member of the Islamic Center in Long Island has ever been accused of terrorism and King has had long ties with the community; yet King has now turned on people he once considered friends, calling the Long Island Islamic Center a “hotbed” of radical Islam and accusing its leaders of being Islamic extremists.

It’s hard to guess what King’s motivation for conducting these hearings is (one can assume they’re partly political, King sees the way the country is swinging and wants to be able to say he was on the front-lines against radical Islam, in a district that’s 90% white alienating a religious minority might actually improve you electoral standings), although he had this to say yesterday as he opened the hearings: “Al-Qaeda is actively targeting the American Muslim community for recruitment. Today’s hearing will address this dangerous trend.” King has also maintained time and time again that Muslim communities are not doing enough to stop radicalization within their communities. This is ostensibly the real reason for the hearings being held: King believes that not only must all Muslims be held accountable for the acts of fringe groups that represent an extremely small portion of the actual Muslim population but that they must meet his standards of what constitutes appropriate measures to prevent terrorist acts from happening.

King’s split with his Muslim constituents began immediately after 9/11; when King first became congressman he would deliver speeches at the Islamic Center often and held book signings in the prayer hall. He took in Muslim interns and was one of the few Republicans who supported U.S. intervention in the 1990s to help Muslims in Bosnia and Kosovo. In return King had received generous outpourings of support from the Muslim community in his district, including significant financial contributions. In the days following 9/11 Americans were confused and bewildered; no one knew what to believe or discredit as false and there was vast amounts of conspiracy theories and conjecture being thrown around. It was in the climate of confusion that one of the Islamic Center’s directors, Ghazi Khankan, made this comment:

“Who really benefits from such a horrible tragedy that is blamed on Muslims

and Arabs? Definitely Muslims and Arabs do not benefit. It must be the enemy

of Muslims and Arabs. An independent investigation must take place.”

This seems like a perfectly reasonable statement to have made at the time and was probably in response to a direct question regarding who could possibly benefit from committing such an atrocity. Personally, if my religion (I don’t have one, but if I did) was being blamed left and right my first reaction would probably also be one of denial; who wants to think their religious brethren could be capable of such a thing? However, the failure to immediately react without thinking whatsoever infuriated King who claimed they were turning their back on America at its time of greatest need, “they were trying to look the other way while friends of mine were being murdered.” So it would seem that these hearings are the culmination of the grudge and resentment that King began to hold deep within his soul when his friends failed to rabidly demand vengeance for the death of 3000 Americans. He was upset that they didn’t mourn as hard as he did, didn’t want to exact vengeance on the perpetrators with every fiber of their being as King did.

“You have to understand the confusion and shock at the time,” continued Khankan, “tapes of Osama bin Laden had just been released in which he praised but was not yet openly taking responsibility for the attacks. Many at the mosque still remembered that Muslims had been immediately and falsely blamed for the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing.” See, the unfortunate truth is that not every American does feel as strongly about 9/11 as others might. America has an enormous and diverse population with a regrettable history of systemic discrimination against racial and religious minorities. I’m sure most Muslims fervently denounce the 9/11 attacks (King actually claimed yesterday during the hearings that 15% of American Muslims believe suicide bombings are justified, which in itself is a completely negligible percentage but a bit of digging reveals that the poll he was referring to states this: It is 12% with 5% saying it is “rarely justified,” 7% saying “sometimes,” and 1% saying it is “justified.” This adds up to 13 percent) but can we blame them for not all rallying around the flag as America geared up to launch a war into the heart of their religious community? Can we blame Muslims for being wary of rabid, nationalist Islamophobia given the deep history of suspicion that Khankan’s above quotation speaks to?

“My district, I think it is a good barometer. Nobody in my district didn’t know somebody who was killed on Sept. 11. It is still very personal.” Look, Mr. King, I’m sorry your friends died.

I’m sorry that you were upset by your friends too, Mr. King, I really am. I’m sorry that their denouncement of 9/11 (which the Islamic Center did time and again as more information came to light) was not passionate enough or American enough for you. I’m sorry but you should be ashamed of yourself. You are a grown man and because you cannot control your emotions you have brought an invasive and arbitrary interrogation to bear on your own constituents from the very highest level of government. These are people that supported you, they gave you money, they fucking elected you to be their congressional representative and you’ve now sold them down the river for cheap political gain. You’re personal grudges shouldn’t be resolved through the congressional harassment of an entire religious group, Mr. King.

house.gov, MSNBC, WaPo image via Guardian

Comparing Battle Scars

I was thinking about how strange it is that people seem to struggle both with wanting to fit in yet trying to be unique. Common parlance seems to be that unique-ness is a stretch at best in our world of 7 billion odd no matter what you create or tattoo on your flesh. Face it, we are disorganized ants.

One thing thing that we can see on the outside that tends to be truly unique, our own, is our scars. Rarely acquired purposely in modern cultures (yes, there are exceptions as with anything), each has a story usually involving pain and/or blood, seared flesh, surgery or having done something stupid.

I thought I’d share a couple of mine and see what you all had as well. Everyone has a good scar story!

The one above my eye is from a dart board. A friend and I were fighting and he tossed me into the board at our local pub. It didn’t bleed at all but you could see my bone or skull really I suppose.

The one on my arm is from a surgery I had to remove an out-of-control birthmark. It was burly. Looked like a huge mole & was possibly cancerous so snip! Helps me know my right from left now. I know. I’m brilliant.

How about you?

Pits are the pits, or not?

Three summers ago, I was mauled by a pit bull. He tried, unsuccessfully, to attack Nanook, our samoyed/chow mix. She came away with just a bruise and wounded pride, while I spent an entire day in the emergency room awaiting my 12 stitches and staring, in awe, at the three inch gaping hole on my thigh. I could actually see the fat in my leg! The dog who did the damage was a pit mix rescued from Katrina. 2 weeks after the incident, he was euthanized. My heart ached for him. You see, I don’t blame him, I blame the owner. His irresponsibility and outright ignorance of the breed caused one more unnecessary death in the approximately 970,000 pit bull euthanizations in America’s shelters in 2008. Both pure bred and mix breed pits account for 58% of all dogs put down in this country each year. By far, most of them end up at the pound because of abuse, neglect, and owners who can no longer care for them, not because of their aggressive nature.

This overwhelming statistic is almost too painful for me to consider. Although most who were in my situation would automatically take a stand against this breed, I’m torn. Torn because we have a pit mix in our home.

Meet Ugo. The love of my life. When people ask me what breed he is, I start to go down the list; boxer, German shorthair pointer, dane, and…. pit bull. And then “the look” rears its ugly head. You know, that look that says “well, he WAS cute, but now…um, gotta go!”. Some people literally back away so quickly, they trip. Others cross the street when they see him, or ask if he bites, from a block away. Truthfully, when I look at him, I can’t see the scary. He is the most gentle, loving, submissive dog I’ve ever met. His best friends are, usually, dogs a tenth his size and twice his age. With all other K9’s, he’s the awkward kid on the playground who REALLY wants to play with others, but just doesn’t know how. His blind, 11 year old “sister” Nanook, loves him like no other which is no small feat considering she is aloof, at best, with everyone else. I often wonder why not everyone is as enamored of Ugo as we are.

Then, I remember what those people see when they look at him. They see aggression, attitude and a thirst for blood. In short, they see a killing machine. They see a breed that began because of a human penchant for fighting. Not only were these dogs bred for fighting each other, but also for bull and bear baiting. Although, the latter has mostly vanished, the former is flourishing. Every year, 250,000 pit bulls are maimed or killed in dog fights (from HSUS) that earn humans millions of dollars, but are a death sentence for those unlucky enough to be on four legs.

According to Adam Goldfarb, director of the pets at risk program for the Humane Society of the United States, “Dogs are products of their environment. Dangerous dogs are not born, they are created.” Therefore, education seems to be the best, maybe the ONLY solution to end dog fighting and bring the pit bull’s reputation back to reality.

According the the ASPCA, rottweilers and pits (pure and mixed breed) account for a “majority” of the dog attacks in this country, but ANY dog is capable of sinking his teeth into your leg. Here are some statistics courtesy of the American Humane Society:

An estimated 4.7 million dog bites occur in the U.S. each year.
Approximately 92% of fatal dog attacks involved male dogs, 94% of which were not neutered.
Approximately 25% of fatal dog attacks involved chained dogs
Approximately two-thirds of bites occurred on or near the victim’s property, and most victims knew the dog.
At least 25 different breeds of dogs have been involved in the 238 dog-bite-related fatalities in the U.S.
Approximately 58% of human deaths involved unrestrained dogs on their owners’ property

It seems, from these statistics, that certain rules are a MUST (for ANY dog owner):

Spay/neuter your dog. This will significantly cut down on their aggression and make them less territorial.
When using your dog for security, do not use a chain. This makes them more territorial and, therefore, more likely to strike. Use a retractable, tethered lead that allows them to move about more freely.
Just because you are familiar with a dog, does not mean he/she will remember you. Always, re-introduce yourself by letting the dog smell you and remember to approach with your hand below the chin, not from above.
Most importantly, ANY dog is capable of biting you. Just because it’s a pocket pet under 20 lbs, doesn’t mean it has no teeth!

In no way do I expect one article to change decades of stereotype and skepticism. All I am hoping for is that my words will help shift the “blame” away from the dog and towards a solution. A solution that provides us with the tools and figures to educate each other about the proper way to care for our K9 companions.

Next time you see what you think is a pit bull, stop and ask. The owners will be grateful for the chance to crush the myth and the dog might turn out to be your friend for life….

Here are some great links to further the cause. They make for very interesting reading:
NPR
The lone Chicago “dog officer” GRAPHIC
Pit bull Heroes

Late Bloomer / The Mantel

“Well, I’ve got him. I’m just not sure what to do with him.” Tom set his wineglass down on the patio table with a click and condensation splashed the hot glass surface, and the phone was slick in his hand. The July sun blasted just two feet of tile along the length of the covered terrace, but it felt like an African veldt. Loki, his fluffy Maine Coon tabby, lounged in deflated defeat in the shade of a potted clematis, opening one green eye from time to time in disapproval.

“Just have fun, boodles, you deserve it.” Thus spake Bill, ever the sage friend and wise counselor. Too bad he was wrong 90% of the time. Tom looked at the phone with annoyance, and the heat was only part of it.

“I am 35 years old and I have had enough fun.” he began.

As he often did, Bill interrupted. “No, you haven’t. You were all repressed in the ‘80s and ‘90s because you were trying to be Mr. Perfectpants for your wacky WASPy parents. You became a serial monogamist.” This last dripped contempt, and he may as well have called Tom a serial killer.

“That’s what I want! I’ve got all the casual stuff out of my system. I’m not judging, I just want…”

“You want to be Samantha from Bewitched, is what you want, with your sweet New England-y house on Long Island Sound and your Wedgwood china and your well-maintained car and dinner parties and planting geraniums. Except instead of Darrin you want a massive linebacker who talks dirty in bed and likes museums.”

Now this was truly annoying, because this was one of the 10% of times that Bill was right.

Taking a gulp of Pinot Grigio, Tom said. “Yes. Something like that. Is that so wrong?”

Bill chuckled. “No, boodles. But I think your cop with the – how did you say? Sparkling eyes? Anyway, he might or might not be the ticket. Soooo… find out. But don’t make it so damn serious.”

Pushing his very serious glasses up on his nose, Tom considered. Slowly, he told Bill: “There’s some things that are… not right. His clothes are dismal. His apartment could be nice, but there’s dust bunnies in there that could eat me. He smokes – not a lot, and he’s considerate, but still.” Tom unbuttoned his linen shirt and fanned himself with Vanity Fair. It helped a little.

He could almost see Bill’s eyebrow rise through the phone. “Let’s recap that last date, k? Quote: ‘He grabbed my hands and pinned me to the sofa and we made out like it was high school and he’s SO BIG and SO HOT and then he did that thing with his 5 o’clock shadow and my neck that drives me wild.’ Not a dust bunny to be seen. As I recall, his shirt was off too, so you didn’t have to look at it. Kohl’s, I bet, or some Big’nTall outlet, cast aside in the dust bunnies while you got your groove on.”

“I’m sorry I told you that. In any case, it’s a long way from there to geraniums by the sea.”

“I want to meet him.” Bill announced.

“No way. You’ll scare him off.”

“He’s been shot at and had large buildings almost fall on him; he can handle me.”

“I think he’d prefer being shot at. I know I would.” Grabbing his wineglass, Tom slid inside to the cool air conditioning, padded to the kitchen and poured a refill. “I can deal with this. I think.”

“Well, you should just enjoy the moment more, is all I’m saying.” Bill was back in sagacious oracle mode again, and it occurred to Tom that his description of the man in question must have piqued some curiosity. He ducked outside again through the terrace door and parked himself in the yellow Adirondack chair he called The Throne.

A noise from the street below drew his attention, and he stood, leaning over the windowboxes bursting with begonias and mini roses. It was a failing muffler, and it belonged to a crumbling white Jetta, which belonged to a very large man. He got out and stretched, displaying wide shoulders straining an NYPD t-shirt which was damp in a few places, then ran a hand through his black velvety crewcut. Sweat glinted from his brow and forearms. He was magnificent. Baggy shorts did little to hide tree-trunk legs and while his midsection wasn’t cut or anything, he was undeniably in great shape.

“Bill? I think I have to go.” Tom said.

“Later, dollface.”

Shading his eyes against the sun, Tom watched as the big man opened the rear door of the Jetta and carefully pulled out a clay pot with bright pink and white flowers held above glossy green rounded leaves. When he stood up, he seemed to feel Tom’s eyes on him and grinned.

Geraniums, Tom thought as he waved. His name is Mike, and he brought me geraniums.

…..

Carefully, the old man took the device from a drawer in the gleaming kitchen and headed for the living room. The Kid had given it to him for Christmas, and it had proven most handy. He imagined that The Kid would be all frantic at seeing him up and about with no one else in the room and there would be a lecture about broken hips and pigheadedness. That was all right. He had little use for sleep these days.

The french doors to the patio were open and carried the scent of roses, fresh cut grass and geraniums into the room, with a little hint of the ocean. The warmth was soothing to the old man’s bones and he smiled crookedly as he shuffled over to the mantel.

The first picture on the left was of him and The One. The old man found it easier to think of him that way, rather than be bothered with names that jumbled themselves up in his head. They were in a nightclub in the photo, and his arm was looped around The One’s shoulder as colored lights played over both of them. He turned on the gizmo, which whirred and removed any dust from the braided silver frame. There had been a kiss that night, and it had tasted of green apples from the drinks they had.

The next picture was in a heavy antique frame that required polishing, which the old man’s arthritic fingers couldn’t manage anymore. But the gizmo whirred again and the glass sparkled over him and The One in tuxedos on the steps of The Cathedral Of The Incarnation in Garden City. That had been quite a day.

The third picture was in an enamel frame that said Steven’s First Christmas, and showed the old man, then younger, grinning tightly at the camera over the shoulder of The Kid, a sullen teenager. The One was giving both of them what was called at that time the side-eye. It was, in hindsight, a hilarious shot, and the old man grinned toothlessly as the gadget polished it up.

A sleek, modern silver frame was next. There was The Kid in graduation robes standing next to a young lady with glossy waves of black hair and an insouciant grin. Julia. Her name came to him unbidden. The Kid was grinning too, all the way to his eyes, and his cap was tilted at a jaunty angle. After a short hum, the silver gleamed around them.

The last picture was in a frame of popsicle sticks with a scallop shell glued to each corner. It showed the old man and The One sitting on a beach on either side of a girl of about five, all with their backs to the camera. An unexpected wave had come in and they were each reacting with varying degrees of surprise, and the girl’s shiny black hair was tumbling out of its ponytail.

A hum removed any dust, and this completed the old man’s task.

“Whatcha doin’?” said The One, padding down the stairs. “You really should be more careful.”

The old man smiled. In fact, this little chore was kind of exhausting and he headed for the sofa.

“Minding my business.” he said to The One, in a tone that suggested that he do the same. He placed The Kid’s gadget on the glass-topped end table carefully, then sat.

The One plopped down on the sofa next to him, and both men regarded the garden outside. Slowly, the old man turned to The One. There was more than a trace of a square, stubborn jaw and his eyes were alight with mischief and humor.

“Mike,” said Tom, more clearly than he’d spoken in months, “Can you get me a scissor? I want to bring some geraniums in.”

“It’s gonna cost you a kiss.”

“I may be ninety-whatever, but I remember how to do that.”

No One Here Gets Out Alive Part 2: DNR and Artificial Nutrition

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In Part One of our series, we all accepted the inevitable and subsequently gave serious thought to who we would choose to make decisions for us were we unable to do so. Nah. I know we’re all still in denial. That’s why I plan to keep nagging you all by talking about this with some frequency. Today we will talk a bit about some of the actual decisions you need to make for yourself, and possibly for a loved one. Because I would like to not overwhelm you with information and give you enough information, I will break this down a couple of issues at a time. Today we will discuss the two biggies: Do Not Resuscitate orders and artificial nutrition.

DNR stands for ‘Do Not Resuscitate’. What this means is that if your heart stops beating and you stop breathing, your medical and nursing providers will not attempt CPR or any other means of restarting your heart or breathing. When making this decision it is important to be realistic about the limits and success of CPR. TV representations of CPR are very unrealistic, with survival rates over double that of real life. Also, contrary to what you may see on TV, people don’t get up and walk around after being resuscitated. They spend days, maybe weeks, in an Intensive Care Unit on ventilation and, if they survive long enough to be discharged, a rate that has been described as being close to zero, there is often residual physical and cognitive damage and months of rehabilitation that follows.

CPR survival rates range wildly and are affected by how sick you were in the first place. Generally speaking, 3-37% of people outside of a hospital who get CPR survive the initial resuscitation. It’s 3-15% for in hospital attempts, reflecting the poor outcomes for people who are already sick or elderly. Again, this is ‘survival’ of the resuscitation attempt only. As an historical side note, it has been noted that CPR survival rates have gone down since its introduction because it is used so often on people who are not appropriate candidates (people too sick or of an advanced age to survive)

The best candidates for CPR are younger, generally healthy, victims of trauma or who have a sudden cardiac arrest caused by an arrhythmia.

If you are making this decision for an elderly family member, the simple, honest truth is that they will not survive the attempt. And even if they do, they will never get out of the ICU. That is the blunt and honest truth. Even more ‘Dr. House’: we will do nothing but crack their ribs into pieces and disrespect their death by attempting it.

DNI: Do not intubate. This generally goes along with a DNR. I have seem some orders that are DNI only which is utterly nonsensical as you will need to be intubated if you stop breathing and your heart stops. Why do CPR with all its intendant risks if you’re not going to follow it up with respiratory support?

Artificial Nutrition: Artificial nutrition most often takes the form of tube feedings. This is a tube that is surgically inserted into your stomach or intestine and a liquid supplement is infused directly in. There are several indications for this, and it is not necessarily an end of life procedure. For example, Roger Ebert has a gastric tube as a result of his cancer and surgery. Anyone who loses their ability to swallow is a candidate. People with esophageal or gastric cancer or people who have neurological swallowing issues because of a stroke are just a couple of examples. Most of these people live perfectly fine lives with a feeding tube. However, if you are in a persistent vegetative state or end stage dementia or end stage neurological disease, it is a different kind of decision. You will have to think about how you would feel having this is there was no hope of recovery or returning to your previous mental state. Many people with dementia lose their appetite as well as the ability to coordinate their chewing and swallowing which puts them at risk for aspiration and pneumonia. A feeding tube is often recommended in this situation. A feeding tube will only provide nutrition. It will not cure or reverse the natural processes that are occurring. The same is true of IV hydration. As people lose the ability to swallow, they become dehydrated and the kidneys and body shuts down. Fluids may be administered, but will only delay the inevitable.

It is important to note that it is not ‘starving’ someone if artificial nutrition or hydration is declined. Any pain at end of life would be managed aggressively and comfort and dignity are the paramount goals. In addition, the dehydration that naturally occurs results in electrolyte imbalances that cloud pain and cognition and provide a natural pain killer and release of endorphins.

I think that’s enough for today, kids. If you want some help thinking about these decisions, there is an excellent resource called 5 Wishes that helps you think through these end of life decisions. In the next installment, I will discuss dialysis, Do Not Hospitalize orders and organ donation – and the exciting unveiling of my own advance directives – Spoiler Alert! – Don’t keep me alive.

The awesome story behind the thumbnail pic.

The Animal Kinkdom: Homosexuality

Sex. Kinky sex. And lots of it. Sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. Heterosexuals, homosexuals, asexuals, transgendered, transvestites, and transsexuals. Incest, necrophilia, and hermaphrodite orgies. It seems, the only sexual deviants in the animal world are monogamists. Who knew? (Certainly not Cole Porter.)

Not too long ago, it was believed that, like humans, animals stuck to the old maxims of the birds and the bees, male and female. Boy, was that wrong! Homosexuality is rampant among animals such as male giraffes and lions. Female apes use tools to masturbate. Even sea snails join in the bestial fun with train-like orgies that can last for days. But, rest assure, “no matter how bizarre the behavior, there’s probably a reason to it”¹. This begs the question, what is the purpose of sex if not for procreation? I plan to answer this and more in a series entitled: The Animal Kinkdom.

The Animal Kinkdom: Homosexuality

There are over 1500 species that engage in homosexual activity³. It doesn’t matter where in the world, or what animal group, chances are it’s happening. More interestingly, it is met with little hostility and is in fact a common behavior among animals of status. If that doesn’t surprise you, let’s take a look at some specific examples of male homosexuality before penetrating a possible reason.

Male Giraffes are often caught canoodling across Africa in an overt sexual act dubbed “neck rubbing”¹.

In the absence of females, the kings of the animal world affectionately kiss, hug, and caress their brothers. Sex is less frequent, but happens (perhaps after a lazy afternoon of eating fermented marula fruit)! Even Cheetahs form their own “members only” brotherhoods complete with benefits.

Does this seem somewhat standard so far? You must be wondering how exactly this is considered “kinky.” Well, it’s not. Not until now. Monkeys and apes take the kinky cake in this article. Hold on to your loins, this ride is about to get freaky.

Let’s begin with the ever inventive male Orangutang. These resourceful little fellows have a wincing trick up their sleeve – they can retract their penis, turning it into a penetrable cavity¹. Yes, that’s what I said, a retractable penis. With opposable thumbs and fingers, playtime becomes sexy-time in no-time.

Anal sex, anyone? Though it is a less frequent behavior, there are a couple species who’ve “mastered the fine art of the back door”¹. Normal social behavior such as grooming between Macaques quickly turns sexual often followed by anal penetration. The aptly named Big Horned Sheep also participates in backdoor dalliances, on rocky terrain no less!

“What about the birds?” asks a shocked Cole Porter. “There are male ostriches that only court their own gender, and pairs of male flamingos that mate, build nests, and even raise foster chicks.”³

Last, but certainly not least, is a dear friend of ours: Bed Bugs.

Male bed bugs (Cimex lectularius) are sexually attracted to any newly fed individual and this results in homosexual mounting. This occurs in heterosexual mounting by the traumatic insemination in which the male pierces the female abdomen with his needle- like penis. In homosexual mating this risks abdominal injuries as males lack the female counteradaptive spermalege structure. Males produce alarm pheromones to reduce such homosexual matings.³

Yikes.

Now let’s visit the question of “why?” What is the purpose of homosexual behavior if it doesn’t lead to procreation? So far, there is no definitive explanation. At first thought, it seems to oppose the evolutionary imperative of continuing one’s genetic legacy. However, with deeper thought, that may not be the case. Speculation suggests it’s preparation and practice for the actual act of mating, which makes sense as females choose the best male with which to mate – a male skilled in impregnation will have higher odds of furthering their lineage. Further, as the act of sex leaves most animals vulnerable to attack, the more efficient the better. Other, more wild speculation, is that it helps regulate the population by providing a sexual release, or act as an outlet for those without partners. I guess this means the old adage is true: practice does make perfect!

In any case, homosexuality is rampant in the animal world; however, this isn’t the only sexual behavior that’s not reproductive. Next up on Animal Kinkdom: Masturbation.

Interested in seeing the full list of animals? Look here.

Sources:

1. Wild Sex. (Documentary) National Geographic. 2005.

2. List of animals displaying homosexual behavior. (2011, February 25). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:21, March 6, 2011, fromhttp://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=List_of_animals_displaying_homosexual_behavior&oldid=415920139

3. Homosexual Activity Among Animals Stirs Debate. Owen, James. National Geographic News. (http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/07/0722_040722_gayanimal.html)

Overt Racism is the New Black

Pun Intended.

So apparently white people ain’t foolin’ around no more. White people be pissed off and they don’t care whether the facts support their rage or how straight up stupid, evil and nineteenth century they sound when they open their mouths. Shit’s gettin’ real out there in the suburbs ya’ll. The Ford Explorers are gassed up and the sequined American flag sweatshirts are ON. White America is in revolt. They are standing up for their God-given right to be the HBsIC and brown and black people better get out da way…NOW.

tube — The near future...as delusional people see it.

Recently, CNN posted a story that released some startling data about that rare and vulnerable animal: The American White Person.

Apparently 44% of American White People think they face racial animus that is just as or more severe of a problem as the animus faced by black people or other minorities. 56% of white Republicans and 61% white Tea Partiers share that opinion. Colleges are beginning to offer “Whiteness Studies” courses (because all those European and American history and literature courses really gave white people the short shrift) and there is a rise in scholarships exclusively offered to that rarest of college students: the White Male. Prominent white activists are even leading marches on Washington to reclaim their right to own everything, live where ever they want, be the standard of beauty and be the only flesh color crayon in the crayon box. Times are tough and the movement is on the streets!

President Obama — Things White People Are Scared Of

This trauma is something that brown and black people could never understand. We’ve never been in power, so we can’t imagine what it must be like to see black people taking our jobs ( Yeah Mr. President, that means you), stealing our women (Taye Diggs couldn’t you find a sista to rub your gorgeousness on?) and men (Heidi Klum, bitch don’t pretend I’m not looking at you). Not to mention that brown and black people have the temerity to reproduce at a rate that is kicking white people’s birth control using ass (my great grandma had thirteen kids and all their kids have all been prolific breeders- pretty sure we could double the population of Wyoming if we so chose. Watch out Wyoming! ).

So, given all that, I’m pretty sure what I’m about to say should get me registered with the Southern Poverty Law Center for committing a hate crime against a vulnerable minority group.

Oh well, let the Haterade fall!

In the last couple months, the Governor of Mississippi Haley Barbour, has been fighting the good fight for White America. He’s belittled the trauma of the civil rights movements and defended “citizens councils” in the South. It shows how committed white people are to this movement that this guy is STILL in the running for the Republican nomination for President. I’ll say this about White America, they do a good job of promoting from within. And let’s be honest, he deserves that promotion. I know Nazi comparisons are persona non grata but in all seriousness the White Citizens Councils of the South were the closest this country has ever come to the S.S. and it was really, really close. They killed, raped and pillaged the black community with impunity and did a masterful job covering it all up for decades. But, according to Barbour, they were the “good” guys in the civil rights movement. Ok, and my ass isn’t a work of art that I carved with thousands of lunges and carb deprivation.

Not to be out done Governor Paul LePage of Maine (whose picture you will see if you look up Good Ol’ Boy in the dictionary) informed the local chapter of the NAACP that they should “kiss his butt,” for having the temerity to question his decision to blow off Martin Luther King Jr. day celebrations. Sounds like this guy is channeling the supernatural to distinguish himself from the pack of average, ho hum, white racist dudes. Perhaps he was channeling the late, infamous Governor Faubus of Arkansas? The WHITE frosting on top of this WHITE cupcake? The man also thinks that women growing beards (not to mention tumors) as a result of exposure to BPAs is also no big thang.

I believe that for every ten actual racists, there are two people who are just too dumb or mentally imbalanced to understand the meaning behind the adjectives, nouns and verbs they string together in front of a microphone. GLoM may just be one of those individuals.

Moving right along, on the Stupid Things Governor and Former Governors Say Express, we have another southerner acting the fool. Former Governor Mike Huckabee (who lately is giving Governor Christie of New Jersey a run for his lunch money for the illustrious title of Governor Sandwiches) decided that President Obama, who was raised in Kansas and Hawaii, was influenced by madrassas as a child. Because there were so many schools that teach a “fundamental” extremist interpretation of Islam in Kansas and Hawaii in the sixties and seventies. Of course, because the President’s absentee father happened to be from a mostly Muslim country and the President has a name other than George, Bill, or James he MUST have been influenced by a world view that this country did not even regard as a threat until the man was an adult and employed by the state of Illinois.

President George W. Bush spent a lot more time hanging out in the Middle East and entertaining Middle Eastern visitors than President Obama and yet no one has a word to say about his influences. Possibly because most of us recognize that the man is too damn dumb to be capable of absorbing information from sources that don’t come with illustrations.

But I digress.

My last little example to support my reasons for building a bunker and starting my own little Black Panthers chapter, is the fine state of Texas (isn’t it always Texas?). I may look black on the streets, but I’m a Mexican in the kitchen (and you know, genetically) and as a Mexican I want to fly down to that state and smack state Rep. Debbie Riddle upside her, “let’s find a convenient loop hole around the thirteenth amendment so I can keep my gardener and maid, treat them like shit and possibly not pay them” head. Rep. Riddle would like to criminalize the hiring of illegal immigrants, punishable with jail time, UNLESS those immigrants are employed as household staff. Immigration debate aside (and trust, that issue is chock full of plenty of awful all by itself), this would (once again in the Eternal Return of the Same that perfectly encapsulates the current state of American political discourse) create an underclass of brown people who are open to exploitation, abuse and whatever special hell lurks around the corner for people who are completely dependent upon employers for their financial, social and legal welfare.

hutu — The things Americans are proud of...

Despite the incredible disconnects from reality that make each of these incidents individually, darkly hilarious, this trend is actually a fairly terrifying. If you study ethnic conflicts, the first step to conflict (and by “conflict” I mean wholesale slaughter and imprisonment of minority groups) is the dominate racial or ethnic group starting and sustaining a victim narrative that they use as impetus to pass laws that protect their privileges at the expense of the basic rights of minority groups. We’ve seen this in New York, where mostly white people sought to deny Muslim people their right to have a community center in order to protect their privilege to not have to be confronted with people practicing a religion that they find somehow distasteful.

Chris Rock tells a story about moving into his wealthy suburb in New Jersey. There are only four black people who own homes in his neighborhood, Mary J. Blige, Jay-Z, Eddie Murphy and Rock himself. Two of the best stand-up comics in the game today, one of the greatest R&B singers ever and a hip hop mogul. Who is Rock’s next door neighbor? A white dentist. Rock’s point? “Black people (and all non-white people) have to fly to get someplace that white people can walk to.”

It is troubling that, in 2011, 44% of White Americans either can’t or don’t see this.

This is your racism trend report for March 2011.

Gotta go refill my glass of Hate Hate Juice.

Peace. Love and WHITE chocolate chip cookies.