The Confession of an Erstwhile Sheep

First they came for the sodas
But I only drink diet so I remained silent
Then they came for the movie theater popcorn
But I don't go to the movies so I remained silent
Then they came for the milkshakes
But I'm lactose intolerant so I remained silent
Then they came for the bacon
And...for the love of all that's holy, NOT THE BACON! 

--A terribly bastardized version of a clever comment I read in response to a newspaper article I read a bit ago and can't be bothered to look up now.


So yesterday I got the news that the Supreme Court upheld the Affordable Care Act.  To be honest, I wasn't expecting that.  I was sure the individual mandate at least would get thrown out as a laughable bit of federal overreaching.  Alas, my faith was misplaced.  It was a sad day, as I realized anew just how much power the government has accrued to itself.  I was furious.  I was frightened.  I was ready to revolt.

I was told the strange sensations I was experiencing were something called "emotions."

 But then I realized that this is nothing new.  The government has been pulling shit like this all along.  They tell us what we should eat, what we should drive, what medications we should be allowed to take.  Their hegemony grows ever larger and always at our expense.  What freedom do we really have if The Powers That Be can "encourage" us to buy something for our own good and then tax us when we don't obey their "suggestions"?  What limits exist on federal power when the Executive Branch can unilaterally make a de facto declaration of war, order drone strikes on suspected terrorists with no due process, wire tap the phones of American citizens with no warrant, and detain suspected criminals indefinitely?

Yeah, this individual mandate has got me bent out of shape.  I don't believe the government, or anyone, should be able to coerce me into buying something I don't want to buy.  But really, this has been a long time coming.  We the people have been the doormats of our elected officials for a long time.  When we went into Iraq illegally and under tenuous pretenses, I defended it.  When the Patriot Act was signed, I thought only those with something to hide needed to be afraid.  When I heard the stories about torture and drone strikes, I winced slightly but figured that our wise leaders were only doing what was necessary.  I was a sheep. 

Now to my rage I join a new and uncomfortable emotion--shame.  I should have known better.  I should have spoken up sooner.  Talk of "collateral damage" should have engendered at least as much passion as the idea of mandated health care.  I lacked judgment, and I lacked compassion.  I can't say this isn't the government I deserve, but I want to do better.  I want to be better.

I want to be the sort of person who can be counted on to fight for liberty and against oppression.  Always.  I want cherish the rights of all people, whether they live in my neighborhood, speak my language and share my religion or are across the world from me, whatever customs they follow or whatever god they pray to.  I want to live my life in such a way that no one will have to wonder how the marginalized will be cared for in a truly free society.  I want to care for them now. 

I have been a sheep, and I repent of my sheepish ways.  I think it's time to evolve.

The kind ministrations of the nanny state

This

Health panel talks about wider food ban - New York News | New York Breaking News | NYC Headlines

cracks me up.  Buncha comedians in New York, I'll tell you.

The Tyranny of the Telephone

Something there is, in me at least, that doesn’t love a despot.  Sometimes I feel as though I’m in a constant state of revolt--against government overreaching, against church traditions, against societal expectations, and authority of all kinds.  Technology is normally my stalwart ally in my quest to understand life on my own terms.  I shudder to think back on those dark ages before the internet did come forth to share the glory of Wikipedia and Lolcats with an ignorant and barbaric people.  But as The Twilight Zone, Frankenstein, and numerous other works of science fiction have pointed out, technology is not always benevolent or even benign.  While it doesn’t make much sense to say that anything lacking a soul can be evil, inanimate objects can be burdensome or even--dare I say--downright importunate.  Case in point: the telephone.

The Poot doing her part to make the world safe from telephonic terrorism.  She's a hero and a patriot.

Now I realize that my antipathy for Mr. Edison’s invention probably puts me in a class of crazy all my own.  I am unbothered, for my grievance is righteous.  I don’t deny that telephones can be useful and, at times, very necessary tools for communication.  However, is there not something a bit presumptuous about a telephone call?  Perhaps for some people the ringing of the phone represents the affection of a far-off loved one or the tidings of eagerly awaited news.  But for me, an introvert with the soul of a true curmudgeon, that dastardly ring hails the demands of a person who would have me pause the very special episode of Boy Meets World that I happen to be watching so that I can be enthralled by his/her dulcet tones.  You see, implicit in the use of the telephone as a means of conversing is the assumption on the caller’s part that what s(he) has to say is more important than whatever it is I am presently doing.  Sometimes this is true, but those times are rare.  Few people trump the magic of Corey and Topanga.

Voicemail really does little to address the injustice.  For one, I’ve probably already missed crucial bits of dialogue between Eric and Mr. Feeney while being first distracted by the ringing of the phone and then further distracted by my intense annoyance at being distracted by the ringing of the phone.  While yes, I can rewind (I have a dvr; I don’t live in a cave), it totally breaks the flow of the narrative.  For two, voicemail puts me in the uncomfortable position of having to become that most imperious of creatures--a telephone-call-initiator.  It seems when people call you and leave a message they often expect you to call them back.  But I’m a Christian, and I rarely repay evil for evil unless the evil people super deserve it, so often the calls go unanswered--for the sake of principle, doncha know.  Surprisingly, my status as a conscientious objector to telephone calling does not shield me from charges of rudeness and psychosis.  It’s almost too much to be borne.  This must be what people mean when they talk about oppression.

What can you do about this?  You can do as all civilized people should--use email.  It’s elegant and egalitarian.  The sender writes at a time that is convenient for him and the receiver reads the message and answers when it is convenient for her.  (Do you see the excellence of this invention?--Gimli, the Indiana Jones ride)  Email is the great equalizer.  In addition, the written word could also prove quite helpful for people who get terribly bored listening to others talk (if only there were a way to aurally skim in real time...) or for those who tend to shout, “F*** the wankers!” rather inappropriately at random intervals in conversation which can cause great consternation among grandmothers and republicans alike.  To the doubters: foot-in-mouth disease is a real thing, and it is very sad.  So for the attention span-deprived, the inarticulate, the lazy, the verbally spastic, the misanthropic, for the outcasts that God loves even if you do not, please remember that email is your friend.  And that the telephone should be used solely for life-and-death emergencies and also sometimes for Fruit Ninja.

Thank you.