My Fellow Americans

The following is not my original work. I am posting it here with written consent from The Cynic, author of Various Philosophies of Cynicism. I saw it first at Terra’s blog.

From an American to Americans

So you don’t like “public, socialised” America….

Obama is selling America to socialism! We–the rich, lazy, elitist upper classes–should not be forced to pay for basic human needs of others–that’s socialism! We hate public services–they’re always inferior to private services!

We say NO to socialism!!

Ok…

* Have an emergency? Don’t dial public, socialised 911–call customer service for your home security system.

* Getting mugged? Don’t call the public, socialised police–YOU get to call a private security firm like Blackwater (who will then shoot you accidentally while the mugger escapes and later claim you were doing the hokey pokey and turning yourself about while shouting in Farsi and holding a grenade with the pin taken out).

* House burning down? Don’t call the public, socialised fire department–YOU get to call a private firefighting outfit (if one even exists) and pay a hefty fee for the water, truck use, travel time to and from, and labour. And we’ll need you to sign this insurance form for our guys as well…

* Car crash? Don’t call the public, socialised ambulance–YOU get to wait on a private health care provider to send an ambulance just for you, as soon as you provide proof of income, proof of insurance, and sign and initial these “Promise to Pay” and “Litigation Waiver” forms…

* Hot outside, isn’t it? Don’t turn on that air conditioning and use that public, socialised power infrastructure!–YOU get to string your very own power cables built on your very own poles.

* Need a book for your child? Don’t use the public, socialised library–YOU get to pay full price plus half at the local Barnes and Noble. And you’re required to feel good about it, since you’ll be supporting a private business.

* Like showering? Don’t use that public, socialised water system!–YOU get to shower with 100% private Ozarka water, available at the local Wal-Mart in convenient two-gallon jugs.

* Enjoy the internet or phone calls? Don’t use that public, socialised wire that connects your neighbourhood to the city network–YOU get to lay down your OWN cable and fiberoptic wires! There might be a “For Dummies” book about that at the local libra–oh, wait…

* Need to go to the grocery store? Don’t use that public, socialised road grid!–YOU get to buy your own pieces of asphalt to lay down beneath your car wheels (and make sure it’s not a GM or Chrysler car–those are socialised, too) to drive on. Best to buy two pieces and leapfrog your way to the store–and hurry it up: closing time’s in eight hours!

* Want an education? Don’t use that public, socialised university system for your undergraduate or graduate degree!–YOU get the special privilege of applying to the 100% private university: Rice! Assuming you get in (after all, being private, it doesn’t have the federal government forcing it to take qualified applicants), don’t take those public, socialised government loans! Pay your own damn way! This is America, for Christ’s sake! Get off your ass, work nine jobs, and pay for your OWN education! Don’t expect my tax dollars (in the form of Stafford loans, federal scholarships and grants, teaching assistantships at public universities, etc) to pay for you!

* Got a letter or a bill to send? Don’t use that public, socialised postal system!–YOU get to send your letters, bills, postcards, &c, via one of the great private carriers–like FedEx or DHL! Sure, they may be more expensive, but you can rest at night knowing you’ve STUCK IT to all those damn freeloaders by spending more of your own hard-earned money on a service that won’t be on time anyway! Kudos to you!

* Support the troops? Why?! Don’t support that public, socialised Clusterfuck Military Machine–YOU get to fund your OWN clusterfuck military machine–like Blackwater!

* Do you breathe? Stop! Don’t breathe that public, socialised air!–YOU get to buy cans of your OWN air to suck on, since government initiatives aimed at curbing pollutants in the air are supported by public monies.

* Want to ride in an aeroplane securely? Don’t pass through that public, socialised TSA security point–YOU should make a statement by refusing to submit to security searches ON PRINCIPLE: just because EVERYONE ELSE wants to be safe doesn’t mean you have to be safe! Especially if it means submitting to a government-run security service. What a waste of taxpayer dollars!

* Garbage stinking up the house? Don’t use that public, socialised dumpster OR the public, socialised garbage truck!–YOU get to do…something else, anyway, with your garbage. Burn it! Pollute the air–that’ll show the EPA!

* Border problems? No problem! Don’t use a public, social imposition like a national border!–YOU should stand out against borders! Borders inhibit the free flow of money (flow in one direction, that is: towards the centre of North America). And borders are enforced by government agencies! Clearly, yet another waste of tax dollars!

* Patriotic? WHY?! Don’t support that publicly-funded (ergo: obviously socialist) representative government in your statehouse OR Washington!–YOU get to found your own technocratic theocracy without the inconvenience of a Constitution…a land where the dollar runs free–freely over those lazy poor fucks you hate! In fact, you can get rid of those people, since they won’t have any rights in the new Democratic Capitalists’ Republic of America, Inc., LLC.

Yes sir, my conservative friends: just follow the easy steps above and you’ll be well on your way to singing, “America the Beautiful” (as soon as you have the rights to perform it in public, have paid for the venue, acquired insurance in case anyone’s hurt while singing…)

Thanks to Kelsie (an American friend of mine) for writing this!

Why We Need Government-run Universal Socialized Health Care

If you don’t “get it” after seeing this video, you just don’t want to.

Love to Love You

This post is in response to one my husband published for me.

Yeah, here’s one for you, Baby!

Happy Birthday To Bonnie

Dear Bonnie,

I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am, or how lucky I feel to have you for my sister and best friend. You have enriched my life in more ways than you will ever know. I love you and appreciate you very much, sis. May this special day of yours be all that you want it to be.

Happy Birthday, Bonnie! I love you! ((hugs))

(This is a rare recording of Happy Birthday performed by The Beatles. The recording is from an appearance on the BBC’s Saturday Club, which is who/what they are singing to. I thought you’d get a kick out of it, and we can always pretend they’re saying, “Bonnie”. )

In Loving Memory of Papaw

I found out this morning that my grandfather died a little over a month ago. I may write a separate post explaining why I wasn’t informed, but for now I would just like to pay tribute to my grandfather who I loved and thought of often despite what certain other “family” members may think.

My grandfather was a kind and gentle man, dedicated to his family and, yes, to his god. I watched him preach on numerous occasions, and his passion was evident to me even as a young child. I sat in the very front row of the tiny rural church where he was Pastor, watching in awe and singing my heart out when the time came to do so.

When visiting Papaw at his home in Mississippi, he was always the first one up in the morning. I’m sure he rose before the sun to pray while the grandchildren were still sleeping and the house was quiet. When I finally awoke, I would find him sitting in his favorite chair, Bible open on his lap. He would look up and smile, welcoming me with a cheerful (Mississippi-accented) greeting: “Mornin’, Glory!”

I went to stay with Mamaw and Papaw when I was thirteen. I’d been having trouble at home and in school, and my grandparents welcomed me into their home as a sort of safe haven. It wasn’t long before I had inadvertently started running with the wrong crowd and Papaw was none too pleased.

One afternoon, I was standing outside his house talking with a couple of boys, one of whom I knew from school. The other didn’t go to school anymore. My grandfather came out, grabbed me by the arm and marched me inside the house.

“You’re hurting me”, I protested.

“Not as much as those two will”, he calmly replied.

The next time I tried to speak to the boys, neither of them wanted anything to do with me. After sending me to my room that day, Papaw had gone back outside and caught up to the boys, who had wasted no time in getting out of there. He warned them both that if they ever came near his granddaughter again, he would kill them, and that no one in that town would believe the Baptist preacher had done such a thing.

It worked!

While I would never condone such threats, I later realized that Papaw was only trying to protect me. Oh, I was livid at the time, but what I didn’t know, and Papaw did, was that the two boys were heavily involved in drugs, including dealing, and had frequent run-ins with the law. He just didn’t want to see me go down the same path. That certainly doesn’t excuse what he did, but it explains it in a way that any parent or grandparent might understand.

Papaw was one of the few men in my life who I didn’t fear (I even feared my own father). I always felt safe when Papaw was around. He wasn’t going to hurt me, or let anyone else do so. He risked his own safety as well as his reputation when he confronted those boys, but none of that was as important to him as protecting me at the time.

Over the years, circumstances beyond my control lead to a distancing between my grandparents and me. Mamaw died more than twenty years ago, and there had been no contact for several years prior to her death.

I often greet my son in the mornings with, “Mornin’ Glory!” I think of Papaw every time I say it. This morning, as I came to Bonnie for my morning hug, I said it to her. I then explained where it had come from, and wondered aloud if my grandfather was still alive. She asked his name and looked it up on the internet where we discovered his obituary. Papaw died a little over a month ago, June 29, 2009.

He used to sit on his front porch and sing. I always enjoyed sitting with him, singing along if I knew the words, and listening if I didn’t. One of my favorite songs to sing with my grandfather was Church in the Wildwood. To this day, despite my views on religion, I sometimes find myself humming or singing it softly to myself. It still brings back warm and happy memories of the few short visits I had with Papaw.

So, I dedicate the following song to the loving memory of my grandfather, Reverend Charles Donald Fitzgibbon (March 10, 1923 – June 29, 2009)