The Voice of Treason

“Leave it to the good people of Philadelphia, whose football fans once famously booed and threw snowballs at Santa Claus, to come up with the perfect takedown of the most inflated (in more ways than one) superstar in contemporary sport. With the visiting Barry Bonds at the plate and needing just two home runs to tie Babe Ruth’s iconic 714 lifetime homers, the banner was raised: ‘Ruth did it on hot dogs & beer.’”

– Charles Krauthammer, June 2, 2006

I was supposed to go to a baseball game this week. Minor league, not major. It was half price hot dog night and a friend’s birthday, and he had a fistful of tickets and a hankering for cheap franks. At the last minute I bailed.

There was the obvious reason: I was engaged in a battle with the notorious terrorist al-Gebra, and I was determined to nail the sucker. (Amazingly, I got an “A” today on my first Algebra exam in thirty years. Believe me, no one is more surprised than moi.) And, frankly, I just wasn’t up for baseball. There’s Bonds, and now the Grimsley story, and let’s not forget the $9 beer. Do I really want to support a pastime that betrays me again and again, then has the audacity to charge me $9 for a beer?

Keep your half price hot dogs, overpriced stale beer, and over-inflated egos. If I get the urge this season I’ll switch on a Cubs game and pretend it’s 1969. You know, back when tickets were affordable, players wore wool, and I thought the game was fair.

“…Last night in Iraq, United States military forces killed the terrorist al Zarqawi. At 6:15 p.m. Baghdad time, special operation forces, acting on tips and intelligence from Iraqis, confirmed Zarqawi’s location, and delivered justice to the most wanted terrorist in Iraq…

– George W. Bush, June 8, 2006

I was behind one of those charming Truly Nolen coupes with ears and tail earlier today, and noticed two words painted on the back directly under the rear window:

ADIOS CUCARACHA

I smiled and thought of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Two five hundred pound bombs and he was still breathing. It’s like the old joke about the end of the world - the only creatures that will be left to inherit the earth are cockroaches…and Cher.

The press can wring their hands over this one all they want, but I don’t think anyone else will. Well, there are those extremists out there who are busy writing sad poems:

“Farewell, oh hero,
We hope to meet you in…a paradise filled with rivers and sweetness
And beautiful virgins that beckon to us in a unique voice.”

(Unique as Yoko Ono’s, I hope.)

The very idea that Zarqawi was cognizant when American soldiers arrived on the scene makes this particularly just. Adios! Ya no puede caminar.

I haven’t been sleeping with FNC since school started. It’s not just because the FOX logo has been burned into the screen so that everything we watch looks like FOX - it’s because I wake up early and study before trudging off to class. I kinda miss waking up with FOX & Friends and finding out, before my first mug of coffee, what events have transpired during the night.

I do turn on the radio in the bathroom while I’m getting ready, so I heard the news that I probably would have heard about 1:00 AM if I’d been sleeping with the TV on. It appears I fell asleep shortly before the news broke; good thing, because it would have been difficult to slip into a coma after that.

When I heard it from our morning talk show host, I froze. “It’s a joke.” It sounded authentic, though, and he wouldn’t joke about something like this. “It’s a mistake, then. Mistaken identity. They’ll figure it out in a few hours and be embarrassed.”

But I didn’t want to believe that. I didn’t want to be cynical. I didn’t want to be paranoid. I wanted to believe the report and feel the same way I did the morning I woke up to hear that Ted Bundy had finally been executed. Something like John Bolton’s dead-on response to Mark Malloch Brown was enough good news for the week - this new story was not only icing on the cake, but a reason to celebrate.

I was meeting up with a group of students for a field trip at one of our largest hospitals. “People will be talking about this - it’s good news.” I didn’t mention it and waited for someone else to do it. I listen to conversations around me and didn’t hear anything, either. Radios in the hospital were tuned to music stations, and TVs weren’t on news channels.

Did I dream this? Was there a tornado in the night that lifted my house and dropped me here, in a different world? I wanted to shout:

“DING DONG, ZARQAWI’S DEAD!
Wake up you sleepyheads, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the slaughtering sheik is dead.
He’s gone where no virgins go,
Below - below - below!
Yo-ho, let’s open up and sing and ring the bells out!”

We have eradicated Abu Musab al-Zarqawi and we should be grateful to our troops and to those who offered information about his location. But I’m not feelin’ the vibe. I’m happy that there’s one less person on the planet who shares my birthday, and happy that this one in particular won’t be decapitating anyone or blowing up a wedding any time soon.

Cynics are sniffing over the informants. There was a reward. That’s why they turned him in. I reject that. They did it because it was the right thing to do. If they receive a reward, then that - like this news story - is icing on the cake. The big fat cherry on top is this: We have introduced the Iraqi people to a new form of government. Next is the intro to capitalism. This reward is a fine first lesson. May the Iraqis continue their studies.

I knew when I announced to my classmates yesterday that it was Election Day and that I had to go vote - and they looked at me like I was saying “Afdheufy numigkin aberniyt djxbytebfk, shfdnehmfh hsynbfmsk” - that voter turnout was going to be particularly dismal. I drove past the polling place on the way home and didn’t see any activity. When I drove there again (this time to actually vote) I didn’t see that much more going on. Not even campaign volunteers with signs. I think I prefer a little more hoopla when I vote.

As far as I can tell, I’m the only person I know who participated in the primary. The excuse was that there were no “big” races and everyone pretty much knew how it would turn out, so why bother? Why take twenty minutes out of your busy schedule to drive a couple blocks, park, follow the signs to an almost empty room, and push a few buttons? It looks like a lot of locals couldn’t answer that one, so maybe fifteen or sixteen percent of the voters actually made an appearance.

People are quick to criticize the Iraqis for not stepping up to the plate and creating a democracy all clean and snappy, minutes before the closing credits, leaving plenty of room for commercials and scenes from next week’s show.

Criticize all you want and be smug. At least those people get off their asses and go vote.

I got my new voter i.d. card just in time! Not that I’m required to present it or anything, but I have it! Out of curiosity, I compared it to the pristine paper one I’ve been carrying in my wallet for a decade or more. All those reports of errors - I just had to see if mine was screwed up.

Let’s see. Under “fecha de nacimiento” I see my birthdate and it is correct. There’s an “F” under “genero.” My “partido” is Republican. Good to see that my “nombre y direccion de votante” were accurate. Most of the categories that require numbers like “concilio de la ciudad” and “senado del estado” are the same as they were on the old paper card. A couple numbers are different. Whether that’s an error, or the numbers have changed, I do not know. Actually I do not care. In eleven years I haven’t needed any card or needed to know any of these oddball numbers to vote, so I’m not sweating it.

One thing I do like about the new million dollar card is that my “num de identificacion” is the last four digits of my Social Security number instead of my entire Social Security number - which is on my old card and makes me slightly uncomfortable. I think I’ll use this as an opportunity to retire my old card and replace it with this exciting new plastic one that no one asked to see when I went to vote today.

I’ve been going to the same elementary school to vote for years. The only difference today is that my precinct moved from the library to the gymnasium. I walked in, picked up a sample ballot, scanned it for surprises, didn’t see any, put it down, and walked to the table that had my precinct number on it. It was easy to see the table because there were no bodies blocking my view. Volunteers aplenty, and three voters.

I was asked for my name. Now, according to every report, I was supposed to be asked for more than that. I wasn’t. No last four digits of my Social Security number, no address, no utility bill, no photo i.d., no voter registration card. No surprise.

But I pushed my shiny new voter i.d. card towards the pollworker and cautioned:

“It’s an unusual name. Seeing the spelling might be helpful.”

Time passed. Pages were turned. Suddenly the pollworker yelled at an older woman sitting at a table four feet away:

“Can you add one? Can you add this one?”

“No, no,” I interjected. “I do not need to be added. I’m on the list. I’ve been on the list. I’ve been on the list for eleven years. I’m always there.”

“No. You’re not here. Can you add her? She’s not on here.”

“No, really, I am. It’s just that the name is unusual so you might want to check the spelling again. Here. On my new voter i.d. card. Here. That I’m holding. Here. With my name on it.”

“No. You’re not here.”

“I am.”

“What’s your party?”

Pause. Long pause. After years of voting in California and years of voting here, I really didn’t want to divulge that information. I mean, they might as well destroy my ballot now and save me a few minutes.

“Republican,” I whispered.

“Oh.” (They all looked at one another. It’s as if I’d told them I had crabs. And I’m not talking about the ones you dunk in butter.) “Here it is. Just sign this.”

Okay, so here’s yet another example of showing up to vote, offering all sorts of voter identification to help out the pollworkers, speed things up, and abide by the rules that are never enforced, and I’m allowed to vote without having to really prove who I am.

This ballot was odd because I actually know some of the people on it. And I didn’t vote for them. Took twenty seconds to vote for those I did vote for - and it probably would have taken ten seconds, except that I was slowed down a little what with holding my voter i.d. card and my nose at the same time.

I’m reminded that I haven’t given out a Loogy in awhile. For those of you who are regulars here at The V.O.T. - uh, both of you - you might recall that I initiated the awarding of the Loogy back in February. This was after the news story featuring the slimeball who got out of his car, walked up to a five year-old girl - who was sitting, waiting for her mother - pulled a chain from her neck, then took off. (All conveniently captured on tape.) Something about the incident struck me as particularly loathsome, so I created the Loogy and “hocked” a Loogy at this chain-stealing miscreant.

I almost hocked a Loogy awhile back to the proud father who put his 18 month-old daughter on the market for $7000 so he could finance home repairs. Being a homeowner myself I understand how someone could go to desperate measures to maintain a piece of property. I understand, but of course I don’t condone this behavior.

Subsequently, I feel I must hock a Loogy to Edward Leader, 37, and Jessica Heird, 20, who were just arrested for selling off a few of their children. It’s been explained that the couple had more children than money, so they decided to sell the kids for quick cash. Some couples start small businesses to supplement their income, and this twosome is no exception. They produce an item that’s in demand, so they simply make it available. Entrepreneurs, they are. In fact, Heird - a baby factory since adolescence - is pregnant even now. Keeping the customers satisfied, that’s all.

I guess giving up children for adoption isn’t as profitable these days. Better to sell them south of the border: buy two, get a bottle of Patron free!

“…Yet there is no assurance that the Defense of Marriage Act will not, itself, be struck down by activist courts. In that event, every state would be forced to recognize any relationship that judges in Boston or officials in San Francisco choose to call a marriage. Furthermore, even if the Defense of Marriage Act is upheld, the law does not protect marriage within any state or city.

– George W. Bush, February 24, 2004

And now it’s June 2006 and it’s time for a vote. Frankly, it looks like this thing’s going to crash and burn this week, and religious conservatives who expect it to do so figure that they’ll gain some support and have a better shot next time. Cynics feel that Bush and the Republicans, in an unsteady election year, are merely throwing a bone to the far right. (Here, catch!)

Some, including Mary Cheney, feel that this is essentially writing discrimination into the Constitution. Again, I can see both sides of the issue and understand opposing views. Some feel that marriage is under attack and that activist judges will grease the skids to that slippery slope Conservatives are always talking about. I understand slippery slopes. You tell some Baby Boomer that it’s okay to euthanize an aging parent, and next thing you know, we got blue hairs stacked up like firewood in morgues.

Part of me says, “Fine. Defend marriage, call it something between a man and a woman, and call everything else a civil union.” If life could only be that simple. Again, I have to point to the circumstances surrounding my relationship with T and health insurance. At the non-profit, my gay coworkers were given the opportunity to add a partner to their insurance plan. When I asked if I could add my partner - who was uninsured, working from home, and acting as full-time caregiver to our geriatric canine children - I was told I could not. Why? Because T is the wrong gender. But that smacks of discrimination, I said. Too bad, that’s how it works, I was told.

In this state, there is no common law marriage. And when we moved here there was a law on the books - and I don’t think it’s been changed - that states it is illegal for two people to cohabitate. For those of you who are ready to graduate from public high schools this year, that means “live together.”

I hate to tamper with the Constitution, really I do. Can’t we just leave it up to the states to define marriage? I realize that isn’t a perfect solution, and if a couple who are married in one state relocates to another that doesn’t recognize their union, then it could be complicated. But that holds true for a lot of things in life. That’s why we choose some states over others. There are fifty. Surely we can find one that suits our needs.

Call me a romantic. I see those couples in the Sunday paper celebrating their anniversaries of forty, fifty, sixty, seventy-five years and I’m moved. Sure, in some cases, it was decades of torture, but I like to think it’s something special that should be admired. If homosexuals want to experience that, who am I to say they can’t? Yeah, yeah, yeah - slippery slope.

I attended a lovely gay wedding a couple Octobers ago, and there was a political aspect to it to be sure. The couple are local activists, so there was a statement to be made. I like the couple in question. One is a former priest, the other is a local teacher. As far as I’m concerned, they’re decent, kind individuals who work hard and pay their taxes. Do I worry that they are going to subvert the young minds that surround them? Not really. Children are exposed to all sorts of things and that, to me, is positive. But children should also have access to information - fair and balanced, of course - that encourages them to learn more and debate any issue that arises.

There are relationships out there that require some protection. Two elderly sisters who share a home need some kind of legal protection. Or an unmarried couple who share property or children. (I must interject here that I’m a tad old-fashioned about this point in particular. If a couple breeds, they should be married. The kids should have to look at the wedding pictures, relive the details of the happy event at the dinner table, know the anniversary date, and see the rings on a daily basis. Call me unenlightened.) I say we recognize that there are all sorts of partnerships out there and realize they need to be handled fairly and with respect. Or like George says above, with “kindness and goodwill and decency.”

Sure that’s a sticking point for those who, like Stanley Kurtz, provide numerous examples of how these unions that aren’t “marriage’ can actually hurt the institution. To be fair, there are plenty of examples of this right under our noses. Just think about the traditions out there that should be protected before they disappear. This whole debate, to me, just serves as a reminder that we have played fast and loose with the institution of marriage and have become much too cynical about it. We get a wedding invitation in the mail now and roll our eyes.

“These two have been shacking up for years. You’re telling me they really need a blender? And she intends to wear white? Can’t they just elope, then throw a tasteful party and ask guests to donate to a favorite charity?”

I say recognize legal civil unions, and let there be “marriage” ceremonies to stimulate the economy. Start there for now and let’s see where it goes. I guess I don’t feel particularly comfortable holding marriage between a man and a woman up as some sacred thing when I know that some of the most unholy alliances out there are those of married couples.

And if homosexuals can one day restore marriage to what it should be, I’ll be first in line to provide the guests with birdseed.

This is really neither here nor there, but I’m compelled to make a quick note of it. I was watching the news and caught a little blurb going by at the bottom of the screen. Oprah has purchased a custom-built, $42 million executive jet from Bombardier Aerospace. No big deal, except that the moment I saw the blurb I had a vision of the thing crashing. It sort of exploded in the air, then fell to the ground.

No will ill, like I said, but I thought I’d document it just in case it came to pass.

I’m waiting for mine to show up in the mail. I’m sitting here looking at my old paper one - the one I received when I first moved here. Still looks pretty good, too. I can read it and the information on it is accurate. I carry it in my wallet, and I’ve been carrying it for a very long time. I present it when I vote even though I am not required by state law to do so.

That being the case, why did our state government feel it was so urgent to send new voter i.d. cards to everyone? They’re “improved,” from what I understand. They’re plastic. The only problem, of course, is that a lot of the people who have been receiving the new cards have discovered that the information on the cards is incorrect. Some of it’s not even close to being accurate. Wrong name, wrong gender, wrong party affiliation. Cards are showing up at addresses addressed to individuals who don’t live at those addresses. Never did.

And this new card has cost taxpayers how much? Over a million dollars. We’re a po’ state - real po’ - and could use that money to pay for something…useful. Like roads. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t mind the idea of a voter identification card. I would just like a law to accompany it that requires a voter to show the card before he is allowed to vote.

These cards aren’t accurate and they’re being mailed indiscriminately. I don’t see how this successfully addresses our state’s voter fraud issues. Some of us suspect the card is part of another grand conspiracy by the party in power to actually “beef up” voter fraud. Too many Republicans moving here and participating in our elections. State went red in 2004. Can’t have that now, can we?

And since we still have no requirement to show the card in order to vote, why exactly do we need the card in the first place? Why did the state spend over a million dollars on a card that we do not need? Why did the state spend over a million dollars on a card we don’t need that has inaccurate information on it?

The state’s Republicans - both of them - were against spending money on a card that isn’t required. Outnumbered, as usual, they were ignored and the money was spent. And I’m still waiting for mine.

Maybe I can use it to scrape bugs off my windshield.

I will fight for you!
I will fight for your children!
I will fight for your future!
I will fight for your children’s future!
I will fight for your rights!
I will fight for your children’s rights!
I will fight for the rights of your children to have rights!
I will fight for the rights of your children to have a future!

I will fight against the forces that threaten the rights of your children’s future!

You can tell we have an election coming up here pretty soon. If I hear one more candidate in a political ad promising to fight for me, fight on my behalf, fight, fight, fight, I’ll just puke, puke, puke. But, hey, it must be working. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be hearing so many of these candidates pledging to fight, fight, fight.

Personally, I wouldn’t mind seeing a couple of them in tight commission approved MMA shorts and 4-6 oz. gloves, facing off in the Octagon, rolling around on the mat, and grappling and striking one another…on my behalf, of course. Politicians in cages. Hmmm.

They say they want to go to Washington and fight. That’s fine. But it appears they just waste time fighting with one another. I don’t really care if a candidate fights for me. All I want is someone who tells me what they want to do, and then they just go do it. Show up to work and vote. Lower my taxes. Do what you said you would do if I voted for you.

You don’t have to fight. Just go in there and do your freaking job.