not here to help, only to observe and pass judgment

At my part-time job we are well are of the possibility that someday, someone is could be assaulted by one of the customers. Someone is going to say the wrong person on a bad day and it is going to be all over.

Yesterday was my day. My friend brought in her six-year-old and he was showing me his karate moves that his cousin showed him. It took me one minute to realize that he was not playing and around and two minutes for me to be on the floor being kicked to death. It was horrific. How he did it was he kicked me in the shins and then punched me in the stomach, when I doubled over he pushed me on the ground and started kicking.

When I got up he started again, this time I thought I was wise to him so when he came at me I got both of his little hands in my left hand and flipped him up over me head using the right. I have him under control, right? Wrong, he kicked me in the face. I had to let him down, but the next I got both arms in one hand and the other hand had his feet.

This whole time, he is giggling as if this is a game, a joke! This is mortal combat. Someone is going to die and more than likely I would be the one crossing over. My boss told me to go back to work before I put him in the ice cream machine.

This underlined for me why I would be an excellent uncle and why I can be a good teacher, but I can never be the parent. Kids are fun to teach, they are fun to rough house with but I do not want to be the person – nor could I be the person – who says “brush your teeth” or “do your homework.”

When he was leaving the store with his mother, I wished her good luck in getting him to bed. She said she was going to call me if she needed a babysitter. I would do that, but we’d need a referee.

My boss said, “that was nice of you to play with him and act like he was beating you up.” I said, “I wasn’t acting.”

I thought I had grown tired of the quote, by Franklin, that, “Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.” I feel that it is oft misapplied in today’s world. In Franklin’s time, the enemies of the state, even of civil society, could not attack that which they opposed in the devastating ways that they could in today’s world. In 1760, when Franklin wrote that, a person could not walk into the middle of Manhattan with a backpack and destroy the entire island and everything for hundreds of miles. The world is profoundly more dangerous than it was a quarter millennia ago. In his time people had to be far more clever and inventive about how they gathered and communicated to avoid detection – today it is far easier to gather and disseminate information that it would have been in his time. When Franklin wrote that he had no idea what the world, the republic he founded, would come to – indeed when he wrote that he was a loyal son of the British Empire, bent on preserving it.

However, over the past year I have lost my stomach for the way we are fighting the war on terror. Sure, they destroyed a large section of Manhattan and the Pentagon. We were all terrified at the brazen assault on our real estate – but the attack was meant to undermine our way of life. In our reaction to that attack, we initially mortgaged our liberties in hopes of securing ourselves against another attack. Certainly, in four years, there has not been a serious attack on our soil – although our allies have been attacked as well.

However, the worst thing that has happened since September 2001 has been the erosions of liberties and debased behavior by our government – in what I honestly believe is a genuine desire to preserve the republic and its citizenry. Unfortunately, by undermining what our republic stands for it and what makes our way life so envied, our government has changed our society into something that is probably not worth preserving.

I do not just blame President and his cohorts, I also lay a great deal of blame – probably more – on the opposition senators who failed to oppose him, either out of fear of terror or political cowardice. Even if I were to merely blame the President, past presidents, Senators from both parties, whomever, blame would not fix our problems.

Essentially, this is why I think Senator Russ Feingold’s idea that we censure the President to be a bad idea. We need to look into the wiretapping, and everything else. Torture, the treatment of detainees, the legal status of Americans being held without charges, and everything else that has gone on and gone wrong.

I feel that if we censure the President he will be publicly humiliated, or punished and the republic will turn to the next problem without resolving it. I am not sure what should happen to the President or anyone responsible. Should they be impeached, censured, or put on trail? I really have no idea but in censuring the President, we are putting the issue to rest. I feel that is wholly inappropriate – he deserves his day in court and so do we.

I also feel that in the same sense that the President’s actions deserve great scrutiny that his opposition not receive a pass. The behavior of the Democrats can be likened to one of those accounts of absurd robberies wherein the homeowner’s negligence aided the thieves – they gave him the keys to the house, pointed out where all the valuables were kept, and helped him carry out what he wanted.

I share Senator Feingold’s feeling that something should be done, this should not be allowed to continue or happen again but before we make the mistake of fighting this war like ones before we need to look at everyone in our government critically and judge their actions.

In looking at the areas where the Senate should have been checking Executive power we see not only sins of omission but sins of commission. Senators Feingold and Rodham-Clinton are two of the five members of Congress (out of 535) – the only Democrats – that signed into the vault to read prewar intelligence. How many voted for the so-called Patriot Act? How many filibustered it?

No matter the President nor the situation, they will try to overstep their authority. Allegedly, the President has – because everyone deserves their day in court – and the same allegations have been made against every President. Clinton has admitted to it himself, the hallowed of the liberals, Jimmy “put on a sweater” Carter, begrudgingly admitted it himself.

It is the constitutional responsibility of the President to defend the republic – but within the bounds of the constitution. It is the responsibility of the Congress to make sure he stays within those bounds.

Let us bring President Bush to heel and prevent his successors from behaving as he has. First, we should get all the facts and all the culprits. Maybe in the end censure is all that is appropriate – certainly it would have been more appropriate for President Clinton – or maybe like Nixon, he needs to be swept from office.

The only thing we know for sure is that something should be done but we do not fully know about what. Until we know we should reserve punishment.

I have applied to teach in Bahrain, as well as several other places overseas. I grew up an expatriate – perhaps being one as an adult would not be so bad. The only kink in my plan so far has been my mother and Godmother getting behind this plan to teach overseas. Except Bahrain, which was not attractive until they said, “no one would visit you in Bahrain.” The Bahrain job pays handsomely, but it is in Bahrain, and while money is not everything in life, distance counts for a great deal all on its own.

My cousin, my Godmother’s daughter, is a teenager who travels the globe (a hard-knocked life) and she could not travel to Bahrain unaccompanied – or really at all – forming the basis for my Godmother’s opposition. My mother’s major concern is that I will give into my sister’s request for a burqua – because my sister would think nothing of slipping on a burqua and running errands. It would be the logical conclusion to slipping a hooded sweatshirt over pajamas. Some people see the repression of women in the garment; my sister sees liberation.

I am not sure I will get any of these jobs – but as always, we at Spritopias are Caustically Optimistic, Voltaire may have had the best of all possible worlds I strive for the most absurd of all possible worlds. I am hopeful that I will not only land on my feet, but land in a very strange and foreign place.

Expatriatism – a word I just dubya’d up on my own - seems attractive in light of my new goal of becoming more Hemmingway. Right now, all I have going for me is being outfitted with clothing from Abercrombie & Fitch as well as Brook’s Brothers, and the habit of carrying around notebook and pen in my pocket to record ideas and observations. One of the jobs I applied for is teaching at an American school in Cuba – which I have set my heart on because it would be very Hemmingway. What I really need is someone to break my heart so that I can write that pain into my work making it New York Times Best Seller. Well, I need that, and a drinking problem.

Question: Which is more pathetic: I was (a) searching for Rainbow Connection on iTunes (b) or that I was angry that they did not have it sung by Kermit the Frog?

What I learned: not a whole lot



Yesterday was not a good day. My overhead projector screen fell, nay, jumped off the wall and nearly cracked me in the head. I put my arm up to protect my head, blocking the heavy screen casing from concussing my head – which was stupid because I could have broken my arm. I use my arms, it is not as if I am using or need my head. Then, at my part time job, Aurora dropped greasy hamburger meat on the floor – which I slipped in, falling in one of those spectacular up then down falls where you land flat on your back. My head was spared the bounce on the floor - which would have garnered me a perfect ten for the feat – but the rest of me was filthy and sore.

The rest of the night I had to hear from the “handicapped” adult who cleans the store how I made a huge mess. I had not made the mess; I had only brought it to everyone’s attention by falling on and in it. As a special education teacher, I know that his problem does not prevent him for working, being productive and can be completely controlled by medication. He relies on people thinking he is incapable of operating at high levels and then them allowing him to be an ass.

This guy is a ticket: he talks to himself all night and interrupts that only to sing to himself. Unfortunately, since most of the people we work with do not speak English, much time is spent trying to explain to them that what he was saying was neither intelligible nor directed at them or conversely that ignoring him at the juncture was wrong because he was actually addressing them. This is usually only when an employee is new because when I say that he ‘talks to himself,’ I really mean that he, ‘spews obscenities and vulgarity all night’ and this understandably leads to misunderstandings and threats of violence.

His singing is what kills me – and what gets me in trouble – because I make requests for songs or sing with him. When we sing together, it is like a Gilbert Gottfried/William Hung duet. It is horrible. Last night he was singing, “Tiny Dancer” and “Piano Man” after singing with him on the Billy Joel cover, I asked him if he could sing, “Rainbow Connection” for me. He said he did not sing ‘lame’ songs sung by frogs, but apparently has no problem covering Elton John.

When I got home from work, I decided it was important to find this song on iTunes and teach it to my class because I felt they were missing out if they did not know the words then they were going to be unprepared for the adult world of singing in a cover band/doing janitorial work in a fast food restaurant.

I also instructed my sister that I wanted Rainbow Connection sung at my funeral by the people at the service. This is because of my many super powers is getting people to do ridiculous and embarrassing things. This comes in handy when you are a teacher and it has made many a road trip in college tolerable. Essentially, I would like her to lead everyone in singing that – with Alex Vance on the banjo – and if she has to, stop the singing to demand, “MORE MUPPET” or “MORE KERMIT, LESS PIGGY!” Then, after the singing is over, tell everyone during her eulogy that it was my last stint at getting them all to make asses of themselves for my amusement.

I will also admit to liking the song, sure, it is geeky – but so is reading and writing blogs, so I don’t know who you are looking at like that.

I have been working my butt off, literally, on this diet. On this weekend, of all weekends, I have decided to cheat on Dr. Atkins with my old lover, Oreo Cookies. I went to Super Stop and Shop to round up the delicious chocolate and crème sandwich cookies along with the other carbohydrates I have steadfastly ignored to the tune of forty-plus pounds lost. Super Stop and Shop should cross out the “Super” in their name because of all the products they carry, they do not carry Double Stuff Oreos.

Sure, they have the ones with yellow fillings for Spring and pink filling for Easter, chocolate covered Oreos, and even inverse Oreos with chocolate middles and Mint Oreos. When I asked the person from Nabisco who was stocking the shelves if they had any that they were hiding some place else in the store he offered me reduced fat Oreos. I consider those to be blasphemous, unnatural, and offensive. Reduced fat Oreos are like cartoons of the prophet Mohammed – completely out of line – but unlike my peers across the Muslim world, I do not wait several months to react to my offense. I told the person from Nabisco that reduced fat Oreos were offensive to me, and to Jesus.

I wanted Double Stuff Oreos. Nothing else would do. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was homicidal. I had to walk around the store for a while to calm down before I could consider operating the car. I have been accused of being homicidal before, and I have even claimed that I had been before, but today I was truly unhinged.

I had half a mind to call Melissa Potter because it reminded me of our college experience. Me from the East Coast and her from the West Coast: both missing not only our homes and families, but also product availability that people in the Midwest not only live with but gladly accept. Do you realize that when I was in college you had to drive to Omaha, an hour and a half, to get Reece’s Pieces? How many times did she have to shut me up in Pac-N-Save of Seward, when I would be incredulous at the idea that they did not have staple products like Breyer’s Natural Vanilla or Aunt Jemima pancakes? I will only admit to being ridiculous when I was hunting down Matzos in the Midwest. Eh, the more the Manshevitz, the closer to God.

You have no idea how many people I have conned into driving to Omaha for or with me. My mother would say, “Maybe God is trying to tell you that you don’t need the Reece’s Pieces” and alternately Double Stuff Oreos, my friend Amy replied, “God is just telling us to work harder.” The greatest length I ever went to for junk food involved driving the car down a bike path (I wore a helmet, making it legal). Of course, only Amy had God’s good sense to buy more than on bag of the Reece’s Pieces because my father was on the record for thinking us out of our damned minds to drive around like that with gas at eighty-seven cents a gallon. It leaves no illusions in my mind as to why most of the Pioneers pressed on through Missouri, Nebraska, into Wyoming and Idaho over the Rockies to Oregon. They were looking for a decent Albertson’s with fresh produce and all the junk food your heart could dream of.

I did not move to Connecticut, leaving my family and people only pretending to be my friend, to work at a job I do not like for too little money and not even have pretend friendships not to have Double Stuff Oreos on my birthday. I work too hard, am too miserable, to be denied this one, small, happiness. I did eventually find them in Target, an adventure for another day, and they were even on sale.

I realize that other people have lives harder than mine and would find happiness in much more substantial and simpler pleasures than a Double Stuff Oreo, but there is no accounting for taste and I will not tolerate being compared to ignorant people who suffer from acute culinary illiteracy. Certainly not, if I am ignoring my own mother reminding me that I am lactose intolerant and allergic to refined sugar – food does not make me happy, it usually makes me pretty sick.

And, lucky for Melissa - I was distracted by a shiny object and forgot to call her.