The Amendment

The race in our neighborhood is close: 4 signs against the amendment and 3 signs for.  We tipped the balance yesterday afternoon by adding the 4th.

The amendment, which will appear on our ballot on May 8, provides that "marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized" in North Carolina.  Because most of the people I know are appalled by such an amendment, it's hard to imagine that this could pass.  But as the signs reveal in our neighborhood, the race is closer than we'd like.

Others more passionate than I have articulated many arguments against this repressive amendment.  For me, it comes down to this: Life is hard enough as it is, why make it harder?  If two people love each other so much that they want to get married--one of life's most difficult challenges--let's support them.

Efforts to thwart love, as we're reminded of in both Romeo and Juliet and West Side Story, end up destroying everyone.  North Carolina Amendment 1 hurts all of us and deserves defeat.

When Johnny [Edwards] Comes Marching Home

When Johnny comes marching home again,

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

He’ll stop at the federal court house then.

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

The jury there will have to see

If he committed conspiracy,

And we’ll all feel smug when Johnny is brought down low.

For Johnny’s no longer a golden lad,

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

He sinned and he lied and he did things bad.

Hurrah!  Hurrah!
The press will cover the smarminess

The senator’s in one big mess,

And we’ll all feel smug when Johnny is brought down low.

Get ready for the verdict day,

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

The court will have its final say.

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

Will the truth come out or will it hinge

On who manipulates best the spin?

Still we’ll all feel smug when Johnny is brought down low.

Let everyone go celebrate,

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

We’ve got another Scandalgate.

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

When there’s sex and sleaze, our day’s been made

As long as the sinner’s forced to pay,

So we’ll all feel smug that Johnny's been brought down low.

A Dog's Life: A Little Bit of Dog in All of Us

At the Woofin' Paws Pet Fashion Show in Ocean City, NJ, during Easter weekend, some of the dogs couldn't wait to enter the contest:

Others knew somehow that they were destined to win:

A few relied on Mom or Dad for confidence:

And others found a safe place to hide:

Some stood patiently wondering what the fuss was all about:

Others were suspicious:

Some were well-put together:

Others kept falling apart:

Kind of like people, wouldn't you say?

The Language of War

How we love to wage war in America. In addition to our war on terrorism, we've initiated wars on cancer, drugs, and poverty. Another war, the one that rages every 4 years, has already begun: our presidential campaign. Consider the language: Which candidate has the bigger war chest? How will the battleground states vote? Who has more field offices established? Have the campaigns enlisted their armies of volunteers?

In one sense the outcome of this war will be clear: either Barack Obama or Mitt Romney will win. But in another sense, the outcome will be fuzzy. For in modern America the winners of wars are those with the most money. Defense contractors, for example, reap victory in Afghanistan and Iraq; drug companies, hospitals, and high-tech medical manufacturers triumph in the war on cancer; drug cartels and weapons manufacturers continue to win the war on drugs; and all of us but the poor sweep the war on poverty.

The winners in 2012? The big donors, the super PACS, the people we don't know and don't elect who dictate how the rest of us live. For in this war corporate America--especially energy, finance, and health care interests--brings out its big guns and mows everybody else down.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see who's left standing when the air clears.

Secret Service Men

A new weekend blog feature: political musical comedy. Taking off on Johnny Rivers' "Secret Agent Man" this week was irresistible. (If you don't know the song, click on this wonderful YouTube link).

There are men who lead a life of danger,
With women they prefer to “know” a stranger.
With every move they make, another chance they take.
Odds are they won’t work beyond tomorrow.

Secret service men,
Secret service men,
They’ve hired high-class hookers
And forgotten about the boss.

Beware of pretty faces that you hire,
A pretty face can often get you fired.
Oh be careful what you pay, you’ll give yourself away.
Odds are you won’t work beyond tomorrow.

Secret service men,
Secret service men,
They’ve hired high-class hookers
And forgotten about the boss.

Swinging in the town of Cartegena,
With Deena, Belle, and lovely Serafina.
Oh no don’t get in a fight, out in the hall at night.
Odds are you won’t work beyond tomorrow.

Secret service men,
Secret service men,
They’ve hired high-class hookers
And forgotten about the boss.

Generations

How did I get so lucky. . .


Mom and Miranda

Maiden Voyage

Have we overdosed on the Titanic yet? It's everywhere, isn't it? The Titanic is us.

Let's face it. The fascination with the Titanic is the metaphor it presents. We can be sailing along one minute, dancing on deck above or below board (it doesn't matter which) when all of the sudden something hits. We don't see it coming, and we may not survive. Whatever it is changes our lives forever.

The band may play on, yes, but the music is no longer ours to choose.

Auf Wiedersehen

A salute to Rick Santorum, as sung by the von Trapp family singers in The Sound of Music, to the tune of "So Long, Farewell":

There's a sad sort of sighing from the far, far right
From the left it's a kind of glee
For this guy who's been taking us to new extremes
Now at last has said a quick goodbye.

Repeatedly he told us
That God alone will save us
But--oops--Rick
couldn't win PA.

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night,
Our time with you has been a trying plight.
Dumb diddee dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb
Dumb diddee dumb dumb dumb.

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu,
You are sincere but oh so narrow, too.
Dumb diddee dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb
Dumb diddee dumb dumb dumb.

We're glad you'll go, we cannot tell a lie
You dissed John K and no one could tell why.

(Slower now) Dumb diddee dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb--

It's Mitt who's now the GOP's main guy,
So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen goodbye.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

Easter Monday

We don't know how this tulip showed up in our yard or where it came from. It blossomed one day, unbidden and solitary, a small miracle during this season of miracles. How reassuring to realize that new life can spring up apparently from nowhere.

Beneath the Robes

Recent studies suggest that the clothes we wear can affect our thought processes. Part of a larger body of research called embodied cognition, these studies attempt to understand whether clothes might alter how we interact with the world.

Which makes me wonder about our Supreme Court justices. What happens to them when they put on those impersonal, androgynous robes?

Perhaps such attire makes it easier for them to render decisions that seem, well, creepy--like the recent ruling that strip searches are OK for even minor offenders. Maybe when you don't dress like the rest of the world and look more like characters out of Harry Potter, you lose perspective.

Let's bring our justices into the 21st century and ditch the robes. Street clothes just might do wonders.

A Dog's Life: Poems by Miranda

Cassidy

The dog is a heart.
He is waiting for me.
The heart is full of kindness.
He has a loving mind.
He may kiss me any time.

Sundance

My very own sweetheart
he sits there waiting for me
I love you Sundance.