


Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact. George Eliot (1819 - 1880)
(*Whittaker Chambers)
Newspapers
It has been my contention that newspapers are the dinosaurs of the media, that their usefulness, their days are numbered.
From the Drudge report, comes the report that newspaper circulation has declined, on average, 2.6%.
Writers
Finally, from Garrison Keillor, comes a great article for writers. I'm providing a link to the Salt Lake Tribune, because our Rocky Mountain News (which also carried the piece) doesn't seem to have been able to post it on its website. The piece reads, in part:
Okay, let me say this once and get it off my chest and never mention it again. I have had it with writers who talk about how painful and harrowing and exhausting and almost impossible it is for them to put words on paper and how they pace a hole in the carpet, anguish writ large on their marshmallow faces, and feel lucky to have written an entire sentence or two by the end of the day.
It's the purest form of arrogance: Lest you don't notice what a brilliant artist I am, let me tell you how I agonize over my work. To which I say: Get a job. Try teaching eighth-grade English, five classes a day, 35 kids in a class, from September to June, and then tell us about suffering.
The fact of the matter is that the people who struggle most with writing are drunks. They get hammered at night and in the morning their heads are full of pain and adverbs. Writing is hard for them, but so would golf be, or planting alfalfa or assembling parts in a factory.
The biggest whiners are the writers who get prizes and fellowships for writing stuff that's painful to read, and so they accumulate long resumes and few readers and wind up teaching in universities where they inflict their gloomy pretensions on the young. Writers who write for a living don't complain about the difficulty of it. It does nothing for the reader to know you went through 14 drafts of a book, so why mention it?
The truth, young people, is that writing is no more difficult than building a house, and the only good reason to complain is to discourage younger and more talented writers from climbing on the gravy train and pushing you off.
Okay, here's the "handsome boy" that should provide the balance to the "pretty girl" shot from yesterday's trek around Sloan's Lake in Northwest Denver.
Since I have lived and worked on the Mexican border all of my life, I am most familiar with the problems presented by illegal Mexican immigration and I would like to focus on that aspect. -
According to former Chief of Police, Ruben Ortega, 80% of the street level drug dealers in Salt Lake City, Utah are illegal Mexican Aliens. I believe we can extrapolate that percentage to any major city in the Southwest. - According to the U.S. Bureau of Prisons, 24% of those incarcerated in the United States are foreign born, most of them Mexicans.
According to the California State authorities, that state must build the equivalent of one grammar school a day in order to accommodate the population growth of school aged children, again, largely due to illegal immigrants, most of whom are illegal Mexicans.
I submit to you that Mexico has instituted policies which encourage its citizens to sneak into the United States. For example: - Mexico has discontinued the government subsidies for propane, diesel, tortillas, beans, electricity, housing, bread and commodities for poor people.
Mexico has opened additional consulates in practically every state in the union in order to assist its citizens obtain U.S. benefits, "rights" and to assure legal help in the instances of "discrimination" in employment, law enforcement and in any other legal matter.
Lawyers retained at the behest of Mexican officials quickly take civil action against any U.S. citizen who chooses to protect himself or his property against illegal Mexicans. This is designed to deter any interference by U.S. residents in the free flow of aliens and drugs across our borders.
Mexican school children, from the primary grades, are taught that the United States "stole" (from Mexico) the land now called California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Colorado and Utah. Furthermore, these children are taught that were it not for the United States "stealing" California and the gold therein, that Mexico would be a superpower today. I have heard that with my own ears. That is no exaggeration.
The President of Mexico actively encourages its citizens to illegally emigrate to the U.S. and in fact frequently refers to those who do so as "heroes".
I can give you the names of eight high-level Mexican politicians who have left office in the last decade with a minimum of $700 million each. These ill-gotten funds could have been used for the good of the Mexican people. Based on the above facts, I see no reason for any change in U.S. immigration laws. But I see a great need for change in the way Mexico imposes upon the United States. The American people are expected to provide free medical care, housing, education, food and other basic needs to illegal Mexican aliens. These are all services that should be provided to our own elderly, handicapped and poor. I do see a need to alter the way in which the United States administers its immigration laws however.
The park is called Viking Park because it is directly across the street from North High School (thus, the North High "Vikings") which, today, is primarily Hispanic. And, it is the high school that my mother graduated from in, I believe, 1923. It is, I believe, an architecturally beautiful school that deserves the money being dedicated to (results of a ballot issue that raised our property taxes) it's maintenance.
I should also tell you that my mother--Denver born--lived only blocks from North High School as she grew up, the child of second generation immigrants: Her father Irish, her mother Italian.
And, I am obliged to tell you that my parents lived across the street from Viking Park during the first years of their marriage.
The reason I advised that David and I have lived in our wonderful neighborhood for twenty years (and let's get this out of the way at the outset) is that among the sixty or seventy or eighty thousand participants in today's event in Denver, the only physically threatening episode I encountered was a young Hispanic man dressed in a t-shirt covered with the Mexican flag and, as I was walking down the street (I am, by the way, an old white-haired, white-skinned, white guy) the young man said, "Hey, get outa the hood you peckerwood." He paused a moment to see what my reaction would be. I simply stared at him as if he were, at least, stupid and, at most, "challenged." He then saw another white guy and walked over to him and said the same thing: "Hey, get outa the hood you peckerwood."
This was a very well organized event. There were red-shirted parade monitors everywhere who advised folks to get out of the street and move here or move there. Also, today's uniform was white; a display of hope, so said the parade honchos several days ago. And, American flags were abundant.
Even one with Che peeking out from behind it.
There was also an abundance of Mexican flags and t-shirts today which, of course, is nothing new. And, as I read the reports from around the country, the placards carried by the folks were pretty much the same from LA to Houston, from Chicago to New Jersey to Denver: "Today we March, Tomorrow we Vote;" "I Am Not A Criminal; "We are America; "Si se puede! (Yes, it can be done.)"
Once again, these are highly controlled, ingeniously orchestrated events.
I walked south on Speer Boulevard from Viking Park. The demonstration route was to follow Speer Boulevard into downtown Denver, eventually terminating at Civic Center Park and the State of Colorado Capitol, and I wanted to get a good vantage point for some descriptive pics. (That's the downtown Denver skyline behind the green arcs of the Speer Boulevard bridge over the South Platte River."
The event kicked off precisely at 10:30 P.M. and, from my vantage point near the Speer Boulevard bridge, the front line of the demonstration, march, parade, whatever, was quite impressive, quite colorful.
You'll note the presence of many red-shirted functionaries who kept the event moving and under control. And, yes, I saw none of the participants become angry or violent or aggressive (to non-participants) other than my peckerwood friend who, at the beginning the event--as I noted--made something of a fool of himself.
Dare I point out that the tallest flag in the entire demonstration was that of Mexico. I'm not sure what significance that has. (No, I am sure what significance that has. Sorry.)
I walked with the folks into downtown Denver. Now, most big city downtown environs are canyons of steel and stone, tall buildings that provide great acoustics. And, this particular point in the parade/march/demonstration was one of the best spots to hoot and holler and whistle...which most of the trudging folks quickly figured out. It was quite impressive.
I did not follow the folks all the way to Civic Center Park and the State Capitol where, of course, the rhetoric was spewed and the comfort of all those compadres was felt. I've heard it all before. And, frankly, I'm growing quite tired of their polemic; a polemic that does not include the word "illegal."
I walked back home (about three miles) with my iPod shuffle cranked. I wondered, as I reentered my Northwest Denver neighborhood, if I could have kicked the peckerwood kid's ass. As much as I run and walk, yeah, I probably could have. Better yet, could I have engaged the kid in a conversation about me and my partner who've lived in the "hood" for twenty years and my mother who grew up in the "hood" and my mother and father who lived in the "hood" and... Ah, shit... Let me give myself a break here. The peckerwood kid wouldn't have understood the significance of any of that. Afterall, all of us white folks stole this land from him personally in 1848. We're the immigrants. Right?
82 Degrees in Denver Saturday when I put the boys out. Now, tonight, it's 30 degrees and snowing.
I think we can be pretty confident that spring has returned to Denver when the red-winged Blackbirds show-up.
Yes, we are a "nation of immigrants." Most of our ancestors who emigrated to the United States of America came here legally. And, most of our ancestors began their lives in this country on the very bottom rung of the social ladder where the jobs were tough and the pay was low. But, even so, most of our ancestors (and the majority of Hispanic citizens in the United States today) yearned to assimilate, to learn the English language, to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, to pay taxes and to give back something of what the "American dream" had given to them. And, no, that assimilation did not demand that one's culture be abandoned; that is the strength of America; so many cultures adhering to an allegiance to the country that gave them that promise, that opportunity to succeed.
Building a wall along the southern border is ludicrous. Criminalizing as felons those who assist, or harbor or associate or hire "illegal immigrants" is absurd.
Ms. Rodriguez ends her column with:
"Without these [illegal immigrant] workers, crops would rot, trash would pile up in offices, hotel dust bunnies would become dust mongrels, and restaurants would have to be refashioned as places where 'u-cook, u-serve.'
Sorry, not buying that one, Ms. Rodriguez. I've got a little more faith in my country than that.
"When one considers American history as a while, it is hard to think of any very long period in which it could be said that the country has been consistently well governed. And yet its political system is, on the whole, a resilient and well-seasoned one, and on the strength of its history one must assume that it can summon enough talent and good will to cope with its afflictions. To cope with them--but not, I think, to master them in any thoroughly decisive or admirable fashion. The nation seems to slouch onward into its uncertain future like some huge inarticulate beast, too much attainted by wounds and ailments to be robust, but too strong and resourceful to succumb."
Richard Hofstadter - "History of Violence"