Suppressing voters

VOTING FRAUD: A Disastrous Scourge

We are on the brink of national catastrophe, a scourge that could devastate our democracy. We are faced with the specter of voter fraud that hordes, a veritable multitude of non-Americans will descend on voting booths and, gasp, sully the core of our republic. Or at least, so a large segment of politicians and the public agree. In order to defend against this mockery of America, they have proposed a variety of preventive measures to ensure the purity of our ballot.

You may remember, or at least know about the south which devoted much of its energy to keeping black people in their place. Share-cropping, a system of bondage labor with a plantation store to reap further profits, efficiently kept black citizens from rising out of poverty. But, you will argue, they could vote and change things for themselves; could they not organize for political purposes? Well, ignorance and the Klan put quietus to such organization, but they could still vote . . . except for the poll tax and literacy tests which essentially eliminated the black American from the polls. Poor people could not afford the poll tax and with education for blacks essentially non-existent passing a literacy test became a hurdle over which they could not leap. Ugly stuff but it surely is done with, eliminated by an enlightened society. Alas not. The reality of what is now called “voter suppression,” is very much a part of our political environment. The whole point is to eliminate particular classes of voters; sometimes it is done legally and sometimes not so with concern for ethicality totally defenestrated. (See, you failed the test.)

Still, it seems reasonable to require a picture ID in order to vote. Is that not that requirement within the pale? Should we not be sure of whom it is who casts a vote? After all, who doesn't have such a document? Who? The poor. It costs money to own a car and costs money to have a license; the poor and disabled are less likely to have such financial encumbrances and whom do they vote for? Well, usually Democrats, as if that's a crime. Of course, such demands are not a poll tax, surely not, we no longer tolerate such things, do we?

Is that it? Sorry, there is more. In the recent recall election in Wisconsin, the Republicans knew they would lose so they put up a bogus slate of Democrats to lure unwary voters into voting for them, thus splitting the Democratic vote, ensuring a loss. It didn't work, most Democrats figured it out. Another trick was to call those likely to vote for recall and give them bogus deadlines to get their votes in. The idea was that the victims would think they had more time to cast their ballot until, horrors, they were too late. To some degree, such tricks worked but three state legislators were recalled in a partial Democratic victory.

How about getting people off the list of eligible voters? Here, I mean in Colorado, the Secretary of State has moved to get rid of “inactive” voters. Even though the word inactive is not defined by law, he asserted that missing one vote proved your inactivity so off you went. And, who are those who are more likely to miss a vote? You'd have to be a poor guesser not to have chosen the poor and the disabled. Never mind that they poor have a harder time taking off from work and that if they do they lose money, or that the disabled, well, they are disabled and voting is more problematic for them. Fortunately, saner heads have taken this matter to court and we might anticipate that such obvious voter suppression would be rejected. But, what if the judge is not of the saner sort?

Keep in mind that all of this is in service of keeping the multitude of the non-citizens from voting as if they are poised to do so. Are there examples of such? Of course, the system is not perfect, but aside from the few who sneak a ballot, our system works. In order for there to be a real, not fanciful problem, the non-citizens would have to organize, develop leaders and a cadre around which such a massive effort would gain coherence. Alas for the vote-suppressors, there is no such effort; if there were it would be legally flattened, turned into inconsequential mush. No, there is no voting disaster heading our way unless . . . unless it is that proposed by the suppressors. A pox on them.

ALTE PISHER

ALTE PISHER

12-5-11

One of the great Jewish sneers is to call an aging gentleman an Alte Kocker. In strict translation, it means a man of distinguished years who shits all the time. Well, obviously, unless diarrhea is involved that doesn't happen very much. The subtle meaning of the phrase is to denigrate the person, to imply that he is not to be taken seriously. As I write this I realize that women, at least in my experience are never called AKs, short hand for the term; no point in wasting energy saying the entire line. No, I don't know why women are not included but a reasonable guess is that no one in the good old days expected women to do anything except marry and have children so there is nothing much to denigrate.

But, much more prevalent among men who reaching their glory years is the reality that they pee more than is seemly. In other words, the aging process turns us into Alte Pishers. The problem in medical terms or among the too snooty to speak of bodily functions is BPH, benign prostate hypertrophy; whatever you call it, it means that we poor souls become considerably more familiar with pissoirs, French for bathrooms. The prostate becomes big and squeezes the tube (What the hell do you call it?) running from bladder to exit device hence the problem. Suffering from AP syndrome means a) that you pee a lot and b) not much comes out. It also means interrupted sleep, getting up three or four times a night to reduce the pressure. Parenthetically, in the old days your doc would stick his properly protected finger up your behind to check its size, but of late that seems no longer medical vogue. Well, I don't mind.

Calling someone an AP in my vast experience is reasonably rare. When I was young I'd refer to some elderly folk as AKs, but the aging process reduces the number of those who deserve the term. Only an exceptionally clever person would call a younger man an AK; the older one becomes, the smaller the population of older folks thus reducing the opportunity. Still, as I write this I think the term fits for Newt Gingrich whose outrageous, mindless pronouncements , I.E. get rid of child labor laws, tell me his gravitas is simply non-existent.

Back to AP. What compounds my problem is that in a miserly way I tend to retain fluids so I am given a medicine that, you guessed it makes me pish. So, wherever I go, my pishdar locates the nearest restrooms so that when the urge appears, as is now common I know exactly where to hasten for bladder relief.So, reaching AP status is another marker along the road to being old. White hair, a bit of macular degeneration, difficulty in getting off the floor after repairing the sink, a low level of persistent arthritic pain, creaky muscles, and a brain that doesn't quite function as in the past are other markers promising that if I survive I'll truly be an old man. I know that some aged people past ninety never seem to age; I fondly hope, with little expectation of fulfilled hope that I well be in that group.

Byron wrote, in Rabbi Ben Ezra (not sure of the title) “grow old with me, the best is yet to be. Bullshit.

If you think about life I'm an ingrate

Consider my crappy old prostate

It demands that I pee

Often two times or three

If there is god that's who I'll berate.

FATE

FATE

7-13-09

There is no such thing. Things happen without our control and we invent things about them. Asians call fate Kismet, meaning when bad things happen the only thing to do is shrug and live your life. Fate implies that there is some mysterious force that operates in the universe that controls our destiny. It was Charlie's fate never to meet a decent woman is what people say about Charlie, meaning that it was somehow ordained by the universe..

Humans have huge egos. We easily develop the notion that the universe takes an interest in us or ignores us when it should not. So many things happen of which we do not approve and we bizarrely become upset, either bemoaning our fate (there's that word again) or becoming angry when things go wrong. We miss the obvious: there is no rational reason that the universe should pay attention to our desires. We do not as separate entities exist in the universe, we are part of the universe as much as the earth we walk on or the stars in the sky.

How did we get here? Religionists insist that there is a determining part of existence that created the universe, i.e. god, that created us. The thought seems to make some people happy, but at the same time left many people uncertain. Instead of accepting received wisdom, they raised questions. That God created us did and does not satisfy. Human beings just a few hundred years ago began to understand the process of how we became . . . us: Evolution. Paying attention to that process makes it evident our transformations over time were natural events, a function of the state of the universe's interaction with protoplasm. No one knows how protoplasm got started. Some thing it was in primordial oceans hit by lightening that made things that lived. Others think that spores of life, floating through space, landed on earth and survived. Some think that aliens seeded earth with life for whatever purpose they had. Did God do it? The trouble with God explanations is that they stop inquiry and godly institutions, jelouse of their perquisites, sometimes killed people who wanted more knowledge.

Some religionists argue that everything in the universe is exquisitely balanced so as to make life possible. If the earth were too hot, or too cold, we could not survive. Too much or too little radiation, if Planck's constant were was a fraction different it would have forestalled our existence. Thus, they argue, that the universe must have been created so we would have a place to live. Idiotic! They miss the point that however life started it would have gone no further had it not fit in. There is no knowing how many times some form of life appeared but could not live in the environment as it was. All sorts of changes happened to the protoplasm and most died out; only our strain survived. When the environment changed we adapted. But, sometimes adaption was not possible and huge species died. The dinosaurs could not make it after the giant meteor hit the earth. Our forebears did. Of course they changed to meet the new conditions and over eons we changed and changed and changed to meet new environments. Nothing about the universe was designed for us; adapt or disappear. The fossil record attests to that.

We all face the problem of how to live an acceptable life in the face of an intractable universe. By far, the great bulk of humanity react with emotions that have no relation to the problem. A patient described how, once, he shook a fist at the sky in outrage for something or other that had gone wrong. What's the point? Yes, he said he felt better after doing so, but it had never occurred to him that he could feel better by accepting loss as part of life and to continue to strive to enjoy his life. “I can't be happy unless the universe does such and so,” is the lament. Humbug, sheer, unadulterated humbug. But prayers are made urging God to change the rules and most prefer not to notice when he, she or it doesn't pull it off. After all, at least there is somebody there listening and making decisions on a master plan which we cannot comprehend.

Yeah. To quote that great song, “It ain’t necessarily so.

WHY READ?

WHAT DOES A GOOD BOOK GIVE ME?  BLOG

Browsing in the Tattered Cover is a situation in which books leap into my arms. It is a strange phenomenon because I'm not aware of how that process works. What happens at the check-out counter is that I am startled at what I am purchasing. “How the hell did I choose that one?” Of course, I never not buy a book that has intruded itself into my life and, the books, all filled with promise, never fail to disappoint.

Example: I went home with a book entitled “1858,” about precursors to the civil war. I had no clue as to why I purchased it; it sat on the floor next to my chair for about 3 months when somewhat bored I started to read it. Wow! It entranced me, I dove into it and learned and learned about the state of the country leading up to the civil war.

Another: “A History of the Reformation,” by Diarmaid McCullough decided to leave the shop with me. A thick thing, ungainly and weighing, it seemed ten pounds, it somehow forced itself upon me. I rationalized that I ought to know something about that major part of history, but the truth is that I wouldn't give a centavo for the topic, but there it was. The book is so convoluted and so requires knowledge of Christianity that I read the damned thing three times, each accompanied by gees, wows and can that be real? I was so impressed by the scholarship and wisdom of the author that I now am going through his History of Christianity. And again, there are gasps of pleasure, excitements, and murmurs of “I never knew that” that accompany the page turnings. Parenthetically, I suspect that I now know more about Christianity than most Christians and many priests, reverends, ministers.

I like war books but when I finish one about the WWII Italian campaign I will start Mark Twain's autobiography. Why? Why do I care about him? It’s the pleasure of knowing him, his life and times.

OK, what do I get from all this reading? Except for the Civil War I have no specific focus; almost anything is grist for my intellectual mill. I even read a history of salt. Obviously, learning outside of socially defined knowledge gives me great pleasure. It thrilled me to learn how Oberlin College students lead a revolt against the fugitive slave law, defying slave catchers who were operating legally with the support of local law enforcement. When I learned about Luther's demands and how the church sold indulgences so dead people could get out of purgatory and into heaven faster than expected I could hardly believe that people killed each other over such disputes. The Reformation lead to sermons and strict rules about sexual behavior and how to manage forgiveness almost split the burgeoning Catholic church. Wow, gee whiz!

I failed, and had to repeat, high school history. None of it, not a bit of it interested me. But, in manhood I became hooked on military history in the army, not because of any army influence but because the Red Cross had a book called “Makers of Modern Strategy,” and I was bored. It taught about the WWI Schliefen plan and Von Moltke's failure to carry it out. I learned how the Japanese naval philosophy lead to Pearl Harbor. I learned why the line of battle in shield war always shifted to the right, and so many other things. It's as if I live in a shadow world in which the reality is obscured by social mythology; but reading lets me know something about the reality which is so different from so called knowledge.

What do I give books? Nothing, but I give the authors my brain not only while the reading goes on but afterwards in thinking about things; ultimately the consequence is a transformation into a different person.

What does a book do for me?

Why it helps me to become quite free

Of the myths and the lies

I have learned to despise

Anything better? Hmph! You tell me.

How Evolution Screwed Us

HOW EVOLUTION HAS SCREWED US

For those of you isolated from the main stream, Tim Tebow, last week was extraordinary. He took a team of no great distinction and made it win, and with heroic style. The game was exciting and worth the time spent watching it. Swell. It is important to know that he is an extremely devout young man who does marvelous works of charity. Swell.

But, the city went somewhat bonkers about the event. Of course, not all people, but a significant number cheered, carried on and remained in the stadium well after the game ended. And, you can bet the vast bulk of Denverites eagerly looked forward to this morning’s paper to read all the details about the victory. After six futile years, winning a playoff game is a triumph that has already become part of Broncos lore. Decades from now, old men will boast to their grandchildren that they had seen the pass that won the game. (I cribbed this from Shakespeare, but it surely is apt.)

Since writing the above, the Broncos collapsed, with Tebow showing little distinction. I mean, it was a BIG loss with nothing to redeem it. What have the fan(atics) done? Why, they persist in extolling the Broncos and the future success of Tebow. I mean, you really have to be a believer to accuse the coach and Elway of the loss.

All this over a game that is fun, exciting, and violent just this side of brutality? No, not at all, no way, impossible. A truth about us is that we are an extremely territorial animal that bonds with our group all of whom extol our common virtues. Denver is better than Pittsburgh not only in football; winning is only the marker that exemplifies our superiority. Why are we so? Evolution.

In the good old caveman/woman days, well before football, banding together to own a particular hunting ground or a particular piece of land meant personal survival. Of course, there were independent souls who preferred isolation but few of them survived. Alone, they became the prey of other humans and animals. They could not hunt as successfully nor could they farm well; human existence depended on intense bonding with the group to ensure that all would protect one and one would protect all. Outliers did not reproduce because they died. Thus, we became herd animals defending our turf against all comers.

My late wife, at a Broncos game for the fun of provocation began to cheer for the NY Giants. Pretty quickly, Broncos fans began to insult her and there appeared a sense of potential violence; I had to shut her down lest I get beaten up for her idiocy. What crime? She had evoked the ancient rule that the group which, attacked, had to respond in kind because she threatened its survival. Well, not really, but evolution has not caught up with civilized reality.

During the Civil war, when everyone knew the South had not a chance they boasted that one southerner could lick five Yankees. What fun for them, but what blindness it exemplified and they could hardly believe they had lost. So, they established the KKK, a kind of guerrilla army to continue to fight for their values. There are still Southerners who espouse the old slogan: “Save your Confederate money boys, the South will rise again.”

Around the world, territoriality rules the day. Many Muslims recall fondly hundreds of years ago when their armies swept away all opposition and anticipate the day when the whole world will bow to their faith. Until recently, Europe had a series of wars over who owned which parcel of land. Only now, with the European Union is there peace but you can bet that many long for the good old days of total sovereignty. In spite of the union, Great Britain remains somewhat aloof in maintaining its own currency. Consider that when Communist Russia, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, failed, those so called republics reverted to their original status of individual countries, reestablishing their territory. Perhaps Europe faces the same fate.

I'm not sure, but I think the United States is alone in successfully unifying disparate states. When the Articles of Confederation failed, the genius of our forefathers created the Constitution; all the states were part of the whole and the issue was decided when the South wanted to split and started a bloody war. That war bound us all together though reminiscences of the old days still flutter with arguments about states’ rights.

But, no more wars between us, never, and that is the hope for humanity. If we can give up territoriality (except for football fluff), we have a chance.

Whether summer or winter snow

Our hero is now Tim Tebow.

He makes us feel proud

We shout it out loud

But, remember its only for show.

When to fight.

When to fight.

If it means physical battle, fight only in desperate circumstances. To get a black eye or a bloody nose over differences of opinion or a word seems absurd so, run like hell even when you think you can win. I'll discuss the issue in terms of refusing to accept the indignities of life that are thrust upon us by the variety of functionaries we encounter.

Consider this. I was waiting to be approached by a sales person in a local Sears. I stood examining stoves while perhaps 10 feet away four employees were engaged in some sort of discussion. Perhaps they were deciding foreign policy, or the president's plans for health care, but they surely were indifferent to me, insignificant me. In the good old days, I would hate them, fume in silence and passively stand in service of their greater need to solve the problems of the world, but some years ago, I decided against. I walked up to the group and said in authoritative tones, “Have any of you seen a sales person on the floor?” Of course, they wore Sears’s shirts and wore nametags; my sarcastic question was designed to shock them and it did. They stared at me, then one of them stammered, “How can I, how can I help you, sir?” All went well after that.

Or the time I told a waiter what food I wanted. His attention was immediately distracted by another waiter who wanted to know if he had heard the score of a football game. After a brief discussion, my waiter turned to me and said, “Ready to order, sir?” I asked him if his memory problem interfered with the rest of his life. Of course, I smiled disarmingly to take the sting out and to demonstrate I had no hard feelings but he also suddenly remembered what I wanted.

Why do I act this way? I know that when people receive assertiveness training, some of their friends dislike their new behavior and fade away and that has been called a problem. Is it? I knew a man whose friend was often irritable with him and sometimes never contacted him (or responded to calls) for weeks. The man never challenged his friend except to tepidly mention the behavior. His friend responded about how busy he was and that ended the discussion

The man, at my suggestion, entered an assertiveness training program and finally confronted his friend who became very distressed and wanted to know why they weren't friends anymore. The friendship ended and the man understood that such a relationship was not a friendship at all and he was well rid of it. He felt some loss, but he also felt proud of himself.

Perhaps some of you might think the above examples are harsh but if so I disagree. People's disregard (often rudeness) can exist only because we are willing to put up with it. If never challenged they continue their indifference to you and me. Sometimes, albeit it, rarely, the friends truly apologize and work on changing their behavior. Don’t hold your breath.

Lest you think that I am an unregenerate curmudgeon, let me assure you that I always start out with charm. Long ago, “How to Win Friends and Influence People” taught me to find something to praise about people and it gives me great pleasure to do so . . . and I am quite sincere about it. While I read about it far in the past it was only about ten years ago that I began to challenge rudeness and knew it was best to lead with friendship.

Of course, there are occasions when nothing will work. Government officials are tough. Police doing their job are tough unless you can figure a way to get past their professionalism. My cousin was stopped for speeding. The officer said, “Do you know you were ten miles above the limit?” My cousin smiled and said “Yes. I thought in this deserted part of town it might not get me stopped. Obviously I was wrong.” The officer laughed and said he was the first person whoever admitted speeding and accepted the responsibility, and sent my cousin on his way. I look forward to getting stopped so I can use my cousin's tactic.

I almost forgot about when to fight. When you or loved ones, friends, passers bye are in physical danger. But, run if you can.

Winter Solstice.

WINTER SOLSTICE – Bah! Humbug!

In a message to some readers, I stated that the Christmas season made me somewhat gloomy. OK, gloomy is a bit strong, but as a card-carrying cynic, I do not buy the Christmas message. Not a Christian, I can only glean my understanding from carols, messages, a multitude of newspaper articles and most people who babble (yes, I mean that word) without thinking at all about what it is they celebrate. While the message is “peace,” simple observation suggests otherwise.

I don’t remember how old I was when I realized that I was not a member of the club. A little girl reminded me of that when she came home one day and said she wanted to be “regular,” no longer Jewish. You get the picture; it’s the same reaction most kids get when they realize they are not full-fledged, rootin tootin members of the dominant society. No doubt, Christian kids have the same reaction if born into a Hindu society or a Muslim society. But, not being a member of the club meant that Santa would not come down my chimney. (I didn’t have a chimney, but you get the idea.) Of course, I received Chanukah presents, i.e. underwear and socks with a few handkerchiefs thrown in and once, I think, even a piece of Chanukah gelt. That’s gold foil wrapped a piece of chocolate impersonating money. My sister, four years older than me violated the family custom of dull gifts by buying me books.

Once I figured out things, I did not mind my non-eligibility for the club. Well, of course, I was but I would have to give up everything important in my life; my parents would have tossed me out on my head for such a transformation. Besides, what did I have to say to non-Jews? Did they know about gefilte fish or schmaltz herring or bialies or whitefish and I didn’t know they ate cream cheese until I became somewhat older.

But, the above is mere persiflage (fancy word to justify my expensive education) and now forward to more serious stuff. I never thought much about Christmas (or Chanukah, for that matter) until during the season I listened to a religious ceremony, which concluded in “peace on earth and good will to men.” In those days, women’s personhood was a nice figment of a few really radical ladies. And, then I heard another ceremony, which concluded, “peace on earth to men of good will.”

They were different in a significant way even though both emanated from Christian speakers. Whassup? I wondered which way God wanted it.

So, I looked into Christmas and discovered that scholars think that Jesus was born I think sometime in April, not December 25. That date was originally chosen for the Zoroastrian god Mithra; it was asserted that was when he was born, clearly precedent to Jesus. The Druids provided the Yule log and Christmas tree until Christian expansionists co-opted such add-ons to their story. Roman soldiers liked Mithra and celebrated the Saturnalia. The Greeks had their own holiday, Brumialia. Including Chanukah, they all fell on the winter solstice.

Winter is a gloomy time during which days become shorter. That surely distressed our ancients who noticed that at a certain time the days became longer; and that awareness provided a vast sense of relief, relief so great that the occasion had to be marked down. People, growing gloomy in the lengthy dark could look forward to what the Romans called the “unconquered sun.” Don’t give up hope, the light will return. Even now, many people suffer from winter slump, sometimes so distressing they need treatment and surprise, the treatment consists of sitting in front of a bank of very bright lights. Like the ancients, the shortening days get me feeling uncomfortable, but I know December 21 is on the way and I keep myself relaxed with that knowledge. Hell, we are ancient man and woman.

So, we really celebrate the lengthening of days but gussy it up with religious fol-de-rol and cheering ourselves up with gifting. Longing for peace became attached to the celebration and that’s why, like a card-carrying cynic I’m sort of gloomy. Even though some red-hot thinkers, i.e. Pinker, say that violence around the world is dissipating and offers some evidence to make his point, I don’t buy it. We evolved in an environment which required fight or flight, either we do battle or run like hell. We haven’t changed, we are still the same animal and evolution moves too damned slowly to make a difference.

Still, with the love of a good woman I don’t retain the gloom for too long.