Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Hickenlooper Tap Dances - Cole Finegan Whines

In the earliest hour of the morning on Mother's Day, May 8th, two Denver Police officers were working off-duty and in-uniform at a baptismal celebration in Southwest Denver. The two officers had earlier, apparently, not allowed a group of men, including the father of the newly-baptized infant, back into the party after the men had left the premises. It is reported that the father of the infant tried to force his way through the two officers and back into the celebration, but one of the officers restrained him, allegedly around the neck, from reentering.

In the earliest hour of the morning on Mother's Day, May 8th, Raul Garcia-Gomez -- the father of the newly-baptized infant -- once again returned to the celebration and assassinated one of the officers, Detective Donald Young (at least one bullet to the brain) and attempted to assassinate the other officer, John bishop, who had worn his "bulletproof" vest that night.


Denver's Mayor, John Hickenlooper -- restauranteur and beer brewer estraordinaire -- who campaigned to be Denver's mayor on a quirky, nerdy platform which emphasized disgust with the bureaucracy and parking meter rates (the director of Parking Management was involved in a little imbroglio himself, at the time) -- and who captured overwhelming support amongst Denver's voters -- go figure! -- has, lately slipslided his skinny ass into a little, ah, controversy, shall we say for propriety sake (a major fuckup for everybody else's sake!).

Forgive me, but I've always thought this guy, Hick, is a huckster of immense proportions; that he thrives on self-agrandizement and would, as I've said before, sell his mother into white slavery if it meant a photo op for Hizzoner.

Anyway, Raul Garcia-Gomez -- after assassinating Detective Donny Young and shooting Detective John Bishop -- put in a full shift the next day as a dishwasher at one of Mayor Hickenlooper's restaurants, the Cherry Cricket. Garcia-Gomez had worked for the Mayor's restaurant for ten months. Thirty days before the shootings, the Cherry Cricket management had been informed by the Feds that the Social Security number being used by Garcia-Gomez was bogus. And, it was reported that within Mayor Hickenlooper's seven restaurants, at least one-hundred employees had presented bogus documentation of their citizenship status.

What did the Hickenlooper "blind trust" (when he became Mayor he placed his holdings into a "blind trust") do about all these undocumented folks who pulled a paycheck from the Hick's restaurants? Apparently nothing. Absolutely nothing. And, it is reported that the Mayor -- even before he became Mayor -- had been hiring illegal aliens for years. Read: cheap labor.

Wait, it gets better.

The Denver Police Department has acknowledged that Raul Garcia-Gomez, the assassin, had been stopped or interviewed three times for traffic-related offenses or incidents. It's reported that he did not produce a valid Colorado driver's license or proof of insurance each time on the three occasions when he interacted with the Denver Police Department. Even though, it is reported, that Garcia-Gomez was without question an illegal alien, the Denver Police Department, nor the Denver County Court judge before whom Garcia-Gomez appeared briefly, questioned his citizenship status. And, there's a reason.

The Denver Police Department has what is referred to as a "don't ask, don't tell," policy with regard to suspected illegal immigrants which, of course, as a practical matter creates a two-tiered reaction to those stopped for traffic offenses. If you're stopped for a traffic offense in Denver and you happen to be a citizen without a valid driver's license or proof of insurance, it's a good bet you're going to jail; if you're suspected of being an illegal alien, chances are you're going on your merry way. Why?

Ever heard of a "Sanctuary City?"

A Denver Police Department Directive, included in the Denver Police Manual reads, in part:

"Generally, officers will not detain, arrest, or take enforcement action against a person solely because he/she is suspected of being an undocumented immigrant. If enforcement action is deemed necessary under these circumstances, the approval of an on duty supervisor or commander is required."

Okay, so what's up with this Denver Police Department directive?

Well, seems as though Denver, through it's many decades of Democratic mayors, has established what is referred to as a "Sanctuary City" for illegal aliens. Under Denver's former mayor, Wellington Webb, Executive Order No. 116, amongst other things, welcomed and saluted immigrants; asserted that federal policy was unfairly applied to alien children, senior citizens and disabled aliens; opposed the federal distinction between legal and illegal immigrants.

Now, considering Executive Order No. 116 and the Denver Police Department policy with regard to suspected illegals, would you kinda' think that maybe Denver is a "Sanctuary City?"

The Hick and his City Attorney, Cole Finegan say, nope, not so, no way.

Hickenlooper argued on a local radio talk show hosted by Peter Boyles that the "buck" of this whole issue did not stop with him, the chief executive officer of the City and County of Denver. He said ,"...the buck stops with, with the, ah, alleged person who shot the police officer..." He went on to cite Federal law in support of his argument that the City and County of Denver is precluded from doing anything with regard to illegal immigrants utilizing city services and being slip-slided through the legal infrastructure of the city, including traffic stops by Denver Police officers. The Hick went on for ten minutes to hide behind the Federal government with regard to illegal immigration policy.

Cole Finegan, Hickenlooper's City Attorney, appeared on Peter Boyles' radio program and immediately commenced whining about the whole affair by announcing that he actually had to get up early to run in order to "...get his stress out..." before appearing on the Boyles' show. He then went on to suggest that Colorado U.S. Representative Tom Tancredo is actually impeding the investigation of the assassination of Donny Young by interjecting himself into the "Sanctuary City" issue. Finegan went on to stir the molasses of what is apparently the Hickenlooper "circle the wagons" knee jerk reaction to not only the assassination of Donny Young, but also the "Sanctuary City" issue.

Finegan went on to whine about Congressman Tancredo's (and former Governor Dick Lamm's) assertions that Denver is "Sanctuary City."

Now, as progressive as I find myself to be these days, I am concerned about the implications of the "Sanctuary City" concept. I am concerned about the reported four to five-thousand Mexican nationals -- most likely including the assassin in this case, Raul Garcia-Gomez -- who have recrossed the border after having committed homicides in the United States. I am concerned about the fact that 80% of the children born at Denver's tax-supported Denver Health Medical Center are from undocumented aliens. I am concerned that Cole Finegan (the City Attorney of Denver) is characterizing Congressman Tom Tancredo's immigration crusade as an impediment to the investigation of the Donny Young assassination. And, I am concerned about Denver's Mayor John Hickenlooper's passing the buck to the Feds with regard to this serious, serious issue which plagues all major American cities.
Shouldn't the Hick and his best bud, Cole, be a wee bit more proactive on this issue than the reactive bullshit they've been spewing for two weeks now? Do they really feel like they need to be circling the wagons to protect Hizzoner? And, if so, why?

Supreme Court Overturns Arthur Andersen Conviction

More "Creative Class" Theory from Richard Florida

Richard Florida's new book, Flight of the Creative Class , is out. AlterNet's interview with Florida reads in part:

This Richard Florida is worried. For one, he fears that the nation's turn to the right -- hostility to foreigners, widening income divide, social conservatism -- endangers the single most important source of U.S. power: its ability to attract global talent. But even when he looks beyond the borders, Florida finds other reasons to worry. Unlike Thomas Friedman, he see the dark side of the global creative economy, whose tendency to concentrate economic wealth must be recognized and controlled for the greater good. The same thriving cities, brimming with talent and ingenuity can easily turn into creative ghettoes that increasingly exclude greater parts of humanity.

And, Florida says:

The global competition for talent actually pushes competitive advantage down to the regional level. Not to say that Canada is going to overtake the United States, but Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal are major immigrant gateways where people can live their lifestyle and build economic opportunity. Australia has the largest percentage share of immigrants in the world and the largest share of foreign students in its major cities, Sydney and Melbourne, and even in its smaller cities like Perth and Brisbane. I think of what's happening in places like Amsterdam, Stockholm, and certainly what's happening under the leadership of the new prime minister in Spain.

There are also critical comments attached to this piece. Good Read.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Hey Sailor! New in town?

Hey Sailor!  New in town?

James Dobson's Bullshit!

This from Medimatters that reads, in part:

DOBSON: I heard a minister the other day talking about the great injustice and evil of the men in white robes, the Ku Klux Klan, that roamed the country in the South, and they did great wrong to civil rights and to morality. And now we have black-robed men, and that's what you're talking about.
The operative word in Dobson's statement is "now." His reference to "black-robed men" was clearly to the justices presently serving on the Supreme Court (except the court's
two female members, whom he either forgot or deliberately excluded from his Klan comparison). Moreover, during the program, Dobson limited his discussion with Levin almost exclusively to the present-day judiciary.

Flight (Red-Winged Blackbird)

Flight (Red-Winged Blackbird)

Coot's World

Coot's World

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Morning Light on the Lake

Morning Light on the Lake

Quotes for the Day

"As everyone knows, a fag is a homosexual gentleman who has just left the room."

Truman Capote

"I love the word 'faggot,' because it describes my kind of guy! You see, I am a fag hag. Fag hags are the backbone of the gay community. Without us, you're nothing! We have been there all through history guiding your sorry ass through the underground railroad! ...We went to the prom with you!"

Margaret Cho

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The Doctors - A Short Story (Appended at ***)

Sanitizing Dubya's War

This from the Gadflyer via AlterNet Peek reminded me of the horribly vivid television reporting of the Viet Nam conflict, mess, imbroglio, tragedy. Night, after night, after night, the television news would, in living color, provide images of the American wounded and dead; images of the battles where good men died because of the mendacity of the politicians and generals. Not so today.

Don't Look Now Paul Waldman (1:21PM)

Lots of people are talking about an L.A. Times piece over the weekend in which they looked into the rather bloodless presentation of the Iraq war in major newspapers:

To measure how American publications have depicted the war in pictures, The Times reviewed six months of coverage from Iraq. The period from Sept. 1 of last year until Feb. 28 of this year included the U.S. assault on Fallouja and the escalating insurgent attacks before January's election.

Despite the considerable bloodshed during that half-year, readers of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Los Angeles Times, New York Times, St. Louis Post-Dispatch and Washington Post did not see a single picture of a dead serviceman. The Seattle Times ran a photo three days before Christmas of the covered body of a soldier killed in the mess hall bombing. Neither Time nor Newsweek, the weekly newsmagazines, showed any U.S. battlefield dead during that time.What few people seem to realize is that this is nothing new. A while back, I wrote a column about this topic. A friend of mine, Jessica Fishman, is perhaps the country's foremost expert on the presentation, or lack thereof, of dead bodies in newspaper photos. Studies that she has done (see here for an example) of decades' worth of newspapers have come to the following conclusions, oversimplified here for your edification:

The dead bodies of foreigners are OK to show, but the dead bodies of Americans are not OK to show (dead Americans are more likely to be shown as they were when they were alive, like in a wedding photo).

Foreigners can be shown committing acts of violence, but Americans can not. In fact, American soldiers are more likely to be shown giving out candy or chatting with kids than doing what soldiers are trained to do, which is blow things up and kill people.You may remember the time, in the early days of the war, when Iraqi television broadcast pictures of bodies of a few American soldiers. Our own TV anchors reacted as though the pictures were the most horrific thing anyone could imagine - they prattled on about how they wouldn't show them because they were too "disturbing." An explosion in downtown Bagdhad, photographed from a mile away, now that's super-kewl and we'll run that a few times an hour.

Anyhow, the L.A. Times deserves kudos for doing this analysis, but what they found is nothing new.

Newton's Law ... Um, Theory of Gravity

This from the Swift Report via Alternet is a hoot. It reads, in part:

God's will

One such theory holds that Isaac Newton was chosen by God, who signaled his interest in the British physicist and mathematician by dropping an apple on his head. While students would still be exposed to Newton's ideas, they would largely bypass his influential work on physics, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, focusing instead upon his deeply-held religious beliefs and his later work in which he attempted to date the events depicted in the bible.

Check out the "related stories," too:

Related Stories
Kansas Trial to Show Evolution is 'Monkey Business'Student Suspended Over Evolution SlurNew SAT Questions Replace Evolution with Creationism

Monday, May 23, 2005

The Trio - Handsome Boys on the Lake This Morning

The Trio - Handsome Boys on the Lake This Morning

Mount Evans This Morning - Snowpack Fading

Double-Crested Cormorant This Morning on the Lake

Double-Crested Cormorant This Morning on the Lake

This Morning's Run - Black-Crowned Night-Heron

This Morning's Run - Black-Crowned Night-Heron

Our Canadian Friend - (Wish I Could Do That!)

Our Candian Friend - (Wish I Could Do That!)

A Red State Odyssey

This from AlterNet is a good read. An Editor's Note reads:

Editor's Note: After the 2004 election, Rose Aguilar, like many other progressives, was haunted by the same question: what went wrong and why? She realized that the answer lay not in the liberal bubble of San Francisco but in the vast expanses of George Bush's America, among the many people who voted for him despite the best efforts of progressives everywhere. Over the next four months, Aguilar plans to visit a number of red states, including Mississippi, Oklahoma, Nebraska, South Dakota, Montana and Utah. Her first stop was Zavala County, Texas.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

The Doctors - A Short Story (Appended at **)

The Doctors - A Short Story

Just a little timely short story. As I append the story, I'll note asterisks * to indicate the latest addition, i.e. the first addition will be *, the second ** and so on.

Chapter I

Mobley stepped close to the floor to ceiling glass doors that led to his balcony. He marveled at the lights of the bay, the San Francisco Bay over which his four-thousand square foot, seventh story loft seemed, at that particular moment, to float effortlessly above the roil of the bay below. The moment was broken when he reflexively reached for his ass and scratched mightily through the virgin silk of his robe. His hemorrhoids were acting up. And, he had gas.

In one of the four bedrooms Kit (Kitten) and Kat (Kat), doctoral candidates in philosophy who shared Mobley's loft, did what lesbians do when the third glass of wine and the itty-bitty tokes they had taken through Mobley's little ivory pipe made the inevitable, well, inevitable. They weren't sure if they loved each other. But, they were sure they adored Mobley completely. Mobley was, after all, already a PhD with a pretty impressive track record and did, after all, have some little influence with those who would review, dissect, turn inside out Kit's and Kat's dissertations. Yes, Mobley was their little stud-muffin who, incidentally, had little interest in sex but did occasionally like to watch the two young women go through their, um, contortions.

Mobley's dissertation, "The Impact of the Metamorphic Synthesis on Sartre's relationship with the Other," had been lauded throughout academe and his PhD had come easily, almost effortlessly. Nevertheless, the holy event -- his canonization within the heady air and ivory-laced world to which he had for so long aspired -- represented for Mobley his arrival amidst and amongst that venerated cabal of degreed elite who, through the sacraments of the university, were granted the privilege to add "Dr." to their business cards.

Mobley had, of course, had his diploma duplicated twenty-five times. And, just yesterday, he realized he needed at least another ten copies. It was important that those with whom he interacted not only understand but see the evidence that he was highly degreed, and -- although he wouldn't admit this to anyone except Kit and Kat -- just a little bit better, a little bit smarter, a little bit more worthy than most.

But, damn! The hemorrhoids were a bitch!

Mobley stepped away from the glass doors and settled his slightly overweight body onto the couch. He pulled his legs under him, leaned over and grabbed the glass of chardonnay off the top of the coffee table and sipped. He placed the glass back on the coffee table as he softly, faintly farted through the virgin silk of his robe. He wondered if that wacko who had had the audacity to question his intellectual veracity would show up again at his next presentation.

Yes, he was working outside the precious womb of academe for the summer. Yes, he knew that the dregs of the earth were out there and he knew they were just waiting to insult his integrity by wondering -- as the wacko had, just today -- "What the fuck are you talkin' about with this Sartre and the Other bullshit!" But, if Mobley was nothing else, he was brave. He would take on the dregs. And, he did have Kit and Kat to help in that department. Why, they would scratch the eyes out of anyone who annoyed, much less insulted, their stud muffin.

But, damn, the hemorrhoids were a fucking nuisance.

To be continued....

Kit emerged from the bedroom. Her sickly pale, vegan-inspired complexion contrasted starkly with the black silk ankle-length robe she had donned . She sat down next to Mobley and placed her arm across his shoulders. "How'd the lecture go, muffy?"

"Fairly well," he said with a sigh. "I had a heckler; a dreg."

"No!" she scooted herself slightly back from him. She looked him straight in the eyes and, with her teeth clenched said, "I told you Kat and I should have gone with you. I told you what it's like out there."

"We could have bitch-slapped the muthafuckah a new one," Kat said, walking across the oak floor of the great room. Her purple silk pajamas provided the same contrast to her sickly pale complexion. She sat down on Mobley's other side. "We would have ripped his balls off," she said matter-of-factly.

Tears welled-up in Mobley's eyes as he caressed his two ladies. "Oh, I am so lucky," he said through his sobs. "I am so, so lucky," he said again as he smelled the sweet-sour odor of sex on the lusciously anorexic women who so, so dearly loved their little stud muffin; their little muffy.

Chapter II

Cabot -- certainly not of the Cabots -- had, seven years ago, placed his framed doctoral degree on top of a stack of books and papers on top of the old oak desk in his study. Over the years, several additional stacks of books and papers had landed on the same pile. Every once in a while he'd try to find the damned thing. It really should be up on the wall. But, every time he would start to look he'd realize he had better things to do and the search would end.

Cabot's degrees were in history. His passion was history, which he taught at the local state-supported junior college.

Cabot's Sunday mornings, for the last three years, had been devoted to delivering meals to those living with AIDS through the Meals on Wheels program. He'd been assigned ten stops where he'd sit with the clients and make sure the meals were consumed. His easy manner and gift for gab provided, for some of the clients, a tonic more potent than the cocktails they took to sustain their lives.

To be continued...


One of Cabot's most difficult stops was Miguel. Miguel was only forty and had been living with aids for almost twenty years. Miguel was often angry, frustrated, sometimes in pain, sometimes drunk, sometimes absolutely exhausted, but always, always up for an intellectual confrontation with Cabot or anybody else who he'd happen to encounter in his limited capacity to get around. But, he did get around ... often attending art shows and free concerts, lectures and public ceremonies. He'd climb on a bus at the curb right outside the building where he lived and travel the blocks or miles to wherever the event of the day called him, only to return completely drained, completely empty of whatever energy with which he had started the day.

Cabot's knock on Miguel's door last Sunday was met with the unmistakable angry Miguel who screamed, "It's fuckin' open."

Cabot walked into the small apartment and found Miguel on his bed with his back resting against the headboard and a book in his hands. "Good morning," Cabot said.

"Is it?" Miguel asked from behind the book.

"Indeed," Cabot said as he sat on the edge of the bed and opened the Styrofoam container. It was eggs and bacon; toast and a pear half. "Hungry?"

Miguel lowered the book and glanced at the food. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. But, we gotta talk, Cabot."

"Absolutely," Cabot said. "We always talk and you always get the best of me. Shoot."

"Well," Miguel said, as he placed the Styrofoam container on his lap and unwrapped the plastic utensils, "I went to see that fucker Mobley yesterday. You know, the guy you told me was gonna give that lecture at the library."

"On Sartre," Cabot said. "Yes, I remember."

"Well," Miguel said as he speared some scrambled egg with his fork, "that guy is so full of shit it runs outa' both sides of his mouth."

Cabot smiled. "I told you that you probably wouldn't enjoy it. He's a doctor of philosophy; an academic discipline that exists primarily of and for other academics."

"Tell me about it," Miguel said as he chewed the eggs.

Cabot handed him a cup of coffee. "So, what'd Dr. Mobley say that ..."

"Hey," Miguel raised his voice. "It's what that motherfucker didn't say that pissed me off. I don't fuckin' know how anybody can talk for an hour and ten minutes and not say a fuckin' thing. You know what I'm sayin', Cabot? You understand me?"

To be continued...


"Okay, okay, Miguel," Cabot said as he raised his hand, palm forward, to Miguel. "Settle down. What did you want him to say?"

"I wanted him to say..." Miguel said and then he paused and stared at something only he could see. "I wanted him to say something to me," he said as his voice lowered, softened.

"Miguel," Cabot said, "these philosophy guys, these academics don't really speak to the ... ah, to the common man. They speak to academics like themselves. I mean didn't you see that at the library? Didn't everybody there look like an academician?"

Miguel sipped his coffee and turned his stare to Cabot. "Now, herr professor, tell me how an academician looks? They prettier than the rest of us? They show their fuckin' superiority somehow in their hair or smiles or eyes or... Jesus, Cabot, you are some kind of stupid shit!"

"Thank you," Cabot said as he pulled the foil cover off the orange juice container which he handed to Miguel. "Actually, Mobley didn't really owe you anything. He was discussing his Sartre expertise. That was the point of the lecture. And, I told you that you probably wouldn't be interested."

"Yeah, well..." Miguel said as he took the orange juice. "You know what, Cabot?"

"No, what?"

"You're some kinda fuckin' tramp; some kinda hotsy-totsy, intellectual apologist. You know what I mean, Cabot? You know what I'm talkin' about, herr professor?"

Cabot looked into Miguel's eyes. He acknowledged that Miguel had an innate intelligence; that he was as sharp as a pin, even though he had never graduated from high school. "Yeah," Cabot said, "I'm a dumb shit. So, what did you want Mobely to say to you?"

Miguel again looked off into that space to which only he was privy.

To be continued...


"I guess," Miguel said as he raised the small orange juice container to his lips. He took a sip. "I guess," he said again, "I wanted him to tell me about the meaning of life. You know as well as me, Cabot, that's the eternal search, the eternal passion for these guys. Whether they're talkin' about Sartre or Foucault or fuckin' Kierkegaard; whether they're talkin' about anybody who calls himself a philospher or even a fuckin' teacher of philosophy, that's the whole point: The fuckin' meaning of life, Cabot. Here," he said as he moved the Styrofoam food tray from his lap to the side of the bed and reached over to his night stand. He placed his oranged juice on the small table and then grabbed a paperback book which he quickly opened to a page that he had creased at the edge. He began reading aloud, "'If you marry, you will regret it; if you do not marry, you will also regret it; if you marry or do not marry, you will regret both.'"

Yes, Cabot smiled. Miguel was reading from Kierkegaard's Either/Or . "Yes," he interrupted Miguel, "I know this well."

Miguel lowered the book slightly and stared intently into Cabot's eyes: "And, you're gonna know it a hell of a lot better, Cabot, 'cause you're gonna listen to this fuckin' thing. Got it?"

"Proceed," Cabot said as he raised his hand slightly in a it's your dime gesture.

Miguel raised the book and continued: "'Laugh at the world's follies, you will regret it; weep over them, you will also regret that; laught at the world's follies or weep over them, you will regreat both; whether you laugh a the world's follies or weep over them, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it, believe her not, you will also regret that; believe a woman, or believe her not, you will regret both: whether you believe a woman or believe her not, you will regreat both.'" Miguel paused for a moment. "I might add here," he said as he lowered the book again, "that nobody, ever should believe anybody that says they're clean; that they're negative. If you believe 'em and they ain't, boy oh fuckin' boy, are you gonna regret it. Anyway," he said as he raised the book again, "'Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will also regret that; hang yourself or do not hang yourself you will regret both; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the sum and substance of all philosophy.'" Miguel gently closed the book and placed it back on the side table. He raised his head and stared at the ceiling.

"Well," Cabot said. "Thank you for reminding me of the content...

"Oh, fuck you, Cabot," Miguel said. "Did you hear what he said? He talked to me. He had something to say to me. Life is full of regrets; moments that, either way you go, you're gonna fuckin' regret it. That's philosphy, Cabot. That's, "'...the sum and substance of all philosophy.' And, I get it Cabot. Mobley doesn't get it. He can talk all day about Sartre and not say a fuckin' worthwhile thing to me. To me," Miguel repeated as he thumped his chest with his index finger. "That's who Mobley needed to talk to.

To be continued...

Friday, May 20, 2005

African American Women Dying Too Soon

This from Choice Magazine via Alternet which reads, in part:

When researchers analyzed data from 1991 to 2000 they discovered that more than 800,000 African Americans died during that decade because they didn't receive the same health care as their white counterparts.

When African Americans do receive care, it is often of lesser quality. "We have evidence that physicians treat blacks differentially in ways that disadvantage black patients," says Jay Kaufman, an epidemiologist at the University of North Carolina who studies health disparities. "Blacks are seen less often by specialists, receive less appropriate preventive care -- [for example] mammography and influenza vaccinations -- lower-quality/less intensive hospital care, fewer cardiovascular procedures, fewer lung resections for cancer, fewer kidney and bone marrow transplants, fewer orthopedic procedures, fewer antiretrovirals for HIV infection, fewer antidepressants for depression, fewer admissions for chest pain, lower-quality prenatal care."
Black women are in the vanguard of those receiving inferior health care, with greater incidence of and mortality from nearly every major disease, including diabetes, heart disease, HIV/AIDS, hypertension, and some forms of cancer:

From W.E.B. DuBois, The Souls of Black Folk: My college training did not altogether omit Karl Marx. He was mentioned at Harvard and taken into account in Berlin. It was not omission but lack of proper emphasis or comprehension among my teachers of the revloution in thought and action which Marx meant. So perhaps I might end this retrospect simply by saying: I still think today as yesterday that the color line is a great problem of this century. But today I see more clearly than yesterday that back of the problem of race and color, lies a greater problem which both obscures and implements it; and that is the fact that so many civilized persons are willing to live in comfort even if the price of this is poverty, ignorance and disease of the majority of their fellowmen; that to maintain this privilege men have waged war until today war tends to become universal and continuous, and the excuse for this war continues laregely to be color and race.

Sean Hannity. Fair and Balanced (From Center for American Progress)

Sean Hannity. Fair and Balanced. Right! (From the Huffington Post) Take a look at the video.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

From MediaMatters - More on PBS and BIll Moyers

Bill Moyers on Media Reform

A good read (there's video and audio, too) if you haven't already seen it. Moyers notes, in part:

We’re seeing unfold a contemporary example of the age-old ambition of power and ideology to squelch and punish journalists who tell the stories that make princes and priests uncomfortable.

Let me assure you that I take in stride attacks by the radical right-wingers who have not given up demonizing me although I retired over six months ago. They’ve been after me for years now, and I suspect they will be stomping on my grave to make sure I don’t come back from the dead.

I should remind them, however, that one of our boys pulled it off some 2,000 years ago — after the Pharisees, Sadducees and Caesar’s surrogates thought they had shut him up for good. Of course I won’t be expecting that kind of miracle, but I should put my detractors on notice: They might just compel me out of the rocking chair and back into the anchor chair.

Who are they? I mean the people obsessed with control, using the government to threaten and intimidate. I mean the people who are hollowing out middle-class security even as they enlist the sons and daughters of the working class in a war to make sure Ahmed Chalabi winds up controlling Iraq’s oil. I mean the people who turn faith-based initiatives into a slush fund and who encourage the pious to look heavenward and pray so as not to see the long arm of privilege and power picking their pockets. I mean the people who squelch free speech in an effort to obliterate dissent and consolidate their orthodoxy into the official view of reality from which any deviation becomes unpatriotic heresy.

That’s who I mean. And if that’s editorializing, so be it. A free press is one where it’s OK to state the conclusion you’re led to by the evidence.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Dubya's House Homophobe

A good, interesting read from the Boston Phoenix via AlterNet this morning, David Berstein reports on Scott Bloch, Dubya's top guy in the Office of Special Counsel (that agency of the Fed which is supposed to protect the rights of federal employees and whistleblowers):

...according to Bloch, who has publicly indicated that he believes the OSC's statute covers discrimination based on off-duty sexual conduct, not on sexual orientation per se. In other words, according to Bloch, discrimination against an employee for having same-sex relationships can be investigated by the OSC, but discrimination against an employee simply for being homosexual cannot, because that is not conduct. This tortured reading of the statute is contrary to White House and OSC interpretation dating to the Reagan administration.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Social Security - From MoveOn.Org

Pat Robertson: "They're all homos..."

Take a look at this video (Larry King) from AlterNet Peek this morning. The video provides off-air comments from Robertson and his "handler" with regard to the calls that came in on-air. Now remember, he loves us but hates our sin!

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Sweet Melissa as Surly Cur

Sweet Melissa as Surly Cur

A Couple Things - Stuff and Nonsense


If you're ever entering the outer perimeter of Denver International Airport and all of the electronic reader boards tell you that the indoor parking lots are FULL and that the close-in, short term parking lot is FULL and, you figure you'll proceed toward the terminal anyway because there might, just might be a space with your name written on it in the indoor lot or the close-in short term lot in spite of the bright red warnings, my advice is to go for it.

Last Tuesday I headed to DIA to pickup David upon his return from the Yakima Valley of Washington state, where he had visited his family for five days. And, no, we never just do the passenger pickup thing. We always park and walk to the terminal and meet one another at the baggage carousel. It's more ... intimate; more caring, I think. (Maybe that's part of the reason why we've been together for twenty-three years.)

Well, anyway... I decided to take my chances on the close-in, short term lot (they had even blocked off the ticket spitters to the indoor garages with orange cones). When I got to the ticket spitter, an attendant -- an Indian (India) who, surprisingly, spoke quite broken English -- advised that everything was FULL and that my only option was drive out of the short term lot, get back on the access road and drive a mile to the outlying parking lot where I would be shuttled back to the terminal in a bus. I said, okay, pressed the ticket spitter button, took my ticket and drove into the short-term parking area and, almost immediately, found a parking space.

As I walked to the terminal, through the short-term parking area I counted seventeen empty spaces. As I walked through the first floor of the indoor parking garage (there are six levels of the parking garage) I counted twenty-four empty spaces.

Lies. Lies. Lies. More likely, DIA's Parking Management folks probably weren't monitoring their lots as they should have been.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Dunner and the Rude Pundit have posted on this issue (most likely several hundred thousand others have, as well) which involves, once again, the polemic surrounding the Theory of Evolution and Creationism.

This time the polemic has popped-up in Kansas. Ever been to Kansas? I don't know why anyone would want to live on that flat-ass, tornado alley, godforsaken, hell-hot, red-neck, backward moving, decidedly RED state. Five or six towns in Kansas are even offering people free lots of land if they'll promise to build a home on the lot and live there a while. Now how desperate is that?

This issue arose in another context a few months ago when several IMAX theaters pulled presentations that postulated on the earth's origin as Big Bang or other non-Biblical theories. My post at that time included some dialogue from the wonderful play, Inherit The Wind, which is a representation of the original Scopes Monkey Trial which occurred in 1925 in Tennessee. Part of that dialogue reads: (Brady=William Jennings Bryant; Drummond=Clarence Darrow)

BRADY: There are many portions of the Holy Bible that I have committed to memory.

DRUMMOND: I don't suppose you've memorized many passages from the Origin of Species?

BRADY: I am not in the least interested in the pagan hypotheses of that book.

DRUMMOND: Never read it?

BRADY: And I never will.

DRUMMOND: Then how in perdition do you have the gall to whoop up this holy war against something you don't know anything about?
How can you be so cocksure that the body of scientific knowledge systemized in the writings of Charles Darwin is, in any way, irreconcilable with the Book of Genesis?

And, I guess that's pretty much where I'm at on this issue. What's the fuss about? Oh, I know. It's the Culture War, isn't it. Godless vs. Godly. Yup. And what better place to play it out, once again, than Topeka, Kansas.

I do get weary of this crap.

A Wee Bit Ominous

A Wee Bit Ominous

Friday, May 06, 2005

Double Crested Cormorant

Thanks to my cousin, Colleen, whose aunt and uncle identified the large bird I'd seen in Berkeley Park several days ago.

If you're at all interested, here's a link that tells you everything you might want to know about this beautiful creature.

Gay Sperm Ban

This from 365gay.com (via the Associated Press) reads, in part:

Gays To Be Banned As Sperm Donors
(New York City)

The Food and Drug Administration is about to implement new rules recommending that any man who has engaged in homosexual sex in the previous five years be barred from serving as an anonymous sperm donor.

"Under these rules, a heterosexual man who had unprotected sex with HIV-positive prostitutes would be OK as a donor one year later, but a gay man in a monogamous, safe-sex relationship is not OK unless he's been celibate for five years," said Leland Traiman, director of a clinic in Alameda, Calif., that seeks gay sperm donors.

But it is the provision's symbolic aspect that particularly troubles gay-rights groups. Kevin Cathcart, executive director of Lambda Legal, has called it "policy based on bigotry."

"The part I find most offensive — and a little frightening — is that it isn't based on good science," Cathcart said. "There's a steadily increasing trend of heterosexual transmission of HIV, and yet the FDA still has this notion that you protect people by putting gay men out of the pool."

You know, I bet there are a bunch of folks out there who, when they read this story, will conclude that, Wow!, if they ban gay sperm then there won't be any more homa-sex-yalls born.

Uh-huh, I know, the people who would believe such a thing are probably the same folks who think it's okay to marry your cousin and fuck the goat out in the barn or the south forty ... whichever is more convenient.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Our Canadian Friends on the Lake This Morning

Our Canadian Friends on the Lake This Morning

Bloggers Beware

This short and informative piece from the Denver Post this morning speaks primarily to legal issues and responsibilities of the estimated 9 million of us who keep-up blogs. It reads in part:

Blogs can be a minefield for the uninitiated. Employees, or outsiders, could be posting information on blogs that a company wants to keep private. Or employees could be blogging on company time or computers, making the company potentially liable for what they say.

Even in the more controlled atmosphere of a company-sanctioned blog, the potential legal pitfalls are many.



Handsome Boy in the Snow This Morning

Handsome Boy in the Snow This Morning

Great Blue Heron on the Lake This Morning

Great Blue Heron on the Lake This Morning