Government Health Care

Socialism is a system based on government ownership of the means of production and distribution of goods. The question is not does it matter but does it matter to you?

America is changing and we must ask ourselves to what, why and how?

One method is through the government's insistence on the complete restructuring of the American health care system. On the surface this is appealing as the costs to our system are astronomical, it's not available to everyone and seems to have a mystical format by which services are granted. It is a prime arena for an advantageous politician bang a fist and cry for change.

And bang their fists they have. Claiming the system is broken beyond repair our elected officials triumphantly deposited their intricate solution to an issue which has lain dormant for several administrations. On October 29, 2009 on the Capitol steps in Washington DC house democrats under the leadership of Nancy Pelosi unveiled a 1,990 page bill which they feel will bring about the change Americans so willingly embraced during the recent presidential campaign.

It heralds change, that is unmistaken. But is this the change we asked for? If this bill is examined with a critical eye the answer is, at best, a highly suspicious one. The one thousand, nine hundred ninety pages are misleading to begin with; there are only 25 lines of script per page so even on its face the government is guilty of a significant waste of paper. And it is written in the legalese format of "...provisions of paragraph (2), (5) and (7) of subsection (a) of section 702 of the Social Security act of..."

Language used to confuse the layman and distance responsibility of the author.

But I read it. Most of it anyway. Enough to make an educated, intelligent, informed and reasonable judgement of it. It's not what we asked for, that much is apparent. And it's not going to solve our health care debate, that much is certain. What it will do is change this country to one which our founding fathers would be unable to recognize.

And again the question is not does it matter but does it matter to you?

Political rhetoric is a dangerous beast and one which must be carefully screened for content. And the easiest way to form a political view is to follow the money. Where does it come from and whose money is it? Anytime the government speaks of money they are speaking of your money. Without taxation there is no money so alarm should be raised when on page 33 a confusing sleight of hand is revealed by the obscure statement of:

"...Part 7 of subtitle B of title 1 of the Employee Retirement Act of 1974 is amended by inserting after section 703 the following new section..."

This illuminates how Social Security money will be reassigned to pay for a portion of the bill. 'One who robs Peter to pay Paul will always have the support of Paul' said George Orwell.

Peter just got mugged.

Remember, this is a government which alters political language to achieve their goals. For generations Americans have paid into Social Security in the belief that once they reach retirement they will receive their purchased 'benefits'. That term has been replaced by the word 'entitlements'. Is it more readily swallowed to eliminate entitlements than benefits?

Medicare is also targeted for assault in this bill. Anyone who wishes for government control of health care need look no further than this example of precision and iron tight regulation. The bill outlines a new approach to ensure prompt payment of services for those eligible under this program by establishing "...a code to to represent such services..." and to "...establish procedures to provide Medicare beneficiaries..." There's some very murky financing within those lines.

Continuing along the money trail we are informed on page 651 that financing will be raised through the existing Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance Trust Fund within the Social Security account. This landfall of additional resources is acquired by harvesting "...such funds as are necessary for the costs of carrying out the program..." Apparently it is not enough to empty Peter's pockets we must also take his shoes.

But the reaping of finances from the over 55 population will not begin to cover the costs of this landmark proposal. Rest assured there are contingencies for this. The Public Health Investment Fund will be established in the Treasury as a separate account receiving deposits from mysteriously labeled "general revenues." Thankfully this section is fiscally conservative in that it has been allocated a meager 4.6 billion dollars for the year 2011 but the The Fund, as it known within the bill, grows over the years to 9 billion dollars in fiscal year 2014.

I was under the impression the bill was designed to lower costs not raise them.

Deeper examination of The Fund unveils on page 1,250 that it is to be used for the creation of the Public Health Workforce Corps which "...ensures an adequate supply of Public Health Professionals throughout the nation..." The Workforce is to consist of recent medical and dental school graduates who will "...enter upon an agreement with the Secretary (of Health and Human Resources) to serve a period of not less than 2 years..." to pay off their student loans.

At least now we know who will be providing our health care.

But beyond the costs what does the health care bill provide? Who gets government health care? Page 19 states an eligible individual is one who "...is a resident of one of the 50 states..." No mention of citizenship, simply residency, the legality of which remains unmentioned.

Health Care is right guaranteed to all under this government. That alone is debatable but will be left alone for the time being. The government wants health care to be provided for everyone and they use language to claim a Public Option is only there to create an even field of play among health insurance providers. A small business will be required to to provide health insurance but for that health insurance to be a government certified wellness program it must provide a "...health literacy component to provide special assistance to employees with low literacy skills, limited English and from under served populations..."

Your America changes right there on page 66.

What else will we pay for? How about 50 million dollars a year to reduce teen pregnancy? Want to kill yourself yet? Too bad, the bill will not promote suicide, assisted or otherwise.

It's happening. The promised change is occurring before our very eyes. But again the question is not does it matter but does it matter to you? Should you care about a government run health care system? Should you be confident in a government run health provider? Does it matter now?

Or does it matter when your child doesn't qualify for a Swine Flu vaccine?

Decision of Indecision- Obama and the Afghan War

The challenge of leadership is to make the tough decision. To step off the fence and cast your stone one way or the other. To assume the burden of authority is to bear the weight of those resolutions. Leadership has it perks, peaks and pride but it comes with a cost; it is the price one pays when the role is accepted.

The decision which may well mark the future of our president has been laid and it will not lie dormant, waiting for facts to be weighed and outcomes polled. Air Force One may not require frequent flier miles or Visa Gold to board its plush interior but it does, most assuredly, have a high priced ticket. It is the price of Presidency and the bill has come due.

Afghanistan. It is time to make your stand, Mr. Obama. Win or lose, sink or swim, in or out. It is now upon your desk and it not only deserves, but requires, your voice.

Your hand picked military man, General McChrystal, has given you the expertly informed opinion. Up the troop levels significantly or the war is lost. It is akin to claiming the boys in desert tan are outnumbered and almost overrun. Blood is flying and the war has entered a crucial stage. Will we stay or will we go?

Granted, it is a murky call, Mr. President and one which will demonize you regardless of which way you lean. There are those for whom any less than full withdrawal is tantamount to war crime and there are those for whom departure now is to leave our dead buried in vain.

It is not a simple choice.

But that is why you stand behind the Presidential Seal. We did not elect an orator or handsome man with a million dollar smile. We elected a President. And a president needs to stand when others don't and to lead when others won't.

I'm unconvinced the war deserves our effort; the mission changed from seeking out Al-Quaeda to reducing Afghani on Afghani violence. I see merits on both sides of the argument and could be swayed to endorse an invasion of Pakistan to destroy the seeds of terror or to leave now and let the ancient tribal animosities run their course until nothing remains but stone age caves and prehistoric infrastructure.

But I am not the one with the voice that counts. That voice is yours, Mr. President. And your silence of indecision has cast your vote and illuminated your ability to lead a nation in war.

Americans are dying at the hands of foreign threats. The blood spilled staining your name. It is time to stand and time to lead. If the war is lost and unworthy of further effort then make your feelings known and begin the unenviable task of retreat. If you feel the war must be continued and is as vital as your campaign promises claimed then grant our military the resources needed to win. Time and debate are not comforts your presidency can afford and the cloudy rhetoric of health care, Taliban negotiations, contested elections or the pardoning of the Thanksgiving Turkey are items which will remain regardless of what you decide.

The Presidency of the United States is an unenviable job for many reasons; you are judged from your choice of tie to the breed of dog which lies upon your couch. But you accepted the role and took the title gladly. The campaign is over, the time of speeches past. Now arrives the difficult duty of leadership.

One must be cautioned as a decision of indecision is still a decision.

Street Justice- City Style (With A Little Country)

Tyler liked order. It was evident in the way he lived; his spartan apartment tidy, the kitchen clean and his clothes neatly folded and placed in their respective corners. Tyler wasn't fanatical but he was rigid in its enforcement and visitors often commented on his ability to domesticate, rare for a member of his gender and age.

Tyler flicked a towel at the ring Erik's glass made as it rested on the old but stylish coffee table, looking quietly at him as he did so. Erik, while neat enough in his own way, was oblivious to the deeper levels of Tyler's fastidiousness and took no notice replacing the sweating glass on the freshly wiped corner the moment Tyler's towel finished its sweeping harvest.

It was hot. The sun baked the pavement outside Tyler's window and the city beneath slowly swayed to the late summer rhythms. Tyler lived downtown, or very near downtown, and his window often proved more entertaining than the small the television with the bent wire antenna. It wasn't ghetto but it was close enough to peer across its border and both Tyler and Erik were familiar with the scenes constantly replaying themselves on the sidewalks and empty lots anchoring the adjacent corners of Tyler's residence.

"Here we go again." Tyler sighed wearily as a loud conversation rose from the street and entered the window of the living room.

It wasn't truly a conversation as only one voice could be heard, that of a withered young man strung long on the affects of street crack and lost paths. Erik slowly rose from the small couch and walked to the window, looking down to the scene below.

"See anything?" Tyler asked, knowing the answer.

"No, he's just talking to himself tonight." Erik answered.

Tyler grunted and was about to say something but then didn't. He knew there would be more to say later.

The sun slowly faded and the pale glow of the streetlight bathed the apartment in a soft but intrusive light. Tyler pulled the shade but left the small board of wood under the window to hold the glass open in the hope of attracting a breeze. The street below awoke at night in concert with the disappearance of the sun. When it did the activity in the vacant lot increased and the small liquor store across the intersection earned the bulk of its income. The corner light attracted nightlife like a neon bug lamp on a small town porch and Tyler was faced with the choice of either shutting the window and enduring the summer heat or leaving it open to hear the orchestra of the Big City night.

Tyler knew closing the window would offer no respite and wouldn't have closed it if it did. He felt a right to the evening and was not about to allow that entitlement to be forsaken. He kept the window open.

But Tyler was not a man who gave concessions without cost. The night breeze entered his small apartment with a price and the price was the constant soundtrack which accompanied the street. The marketplace of illegality conducted below his space was undisturbed by law, weather or clock and at times ran so wild as to intrude upon the very privacy Tyler valued so much. Tyler heard drugs traded, whores sold and debts collected, often by the blade of knife or point of a gun. It was a lawless place and those governed the corner did so without uniform, authority or conscience.

The lion ruled the jungle and the lion held the sword.

But Tyler never felt himself as prey and was not content to play its role. His salary purchased his apartment and his residence staked his claim to the turf and when his line was violated it was often repaid with the currency of the corner.

One does not negotiate with lions; reason is an alien language to such creatures.

And Tyler, while fluent in the language of sophistication, was bilingual in the land of chaos.

Erik went back to the window and confirmed the developing activity; the crack dealers conducting their steady trade, the cars slowly cruising and the verbal challenges of rivals escalating to violence.

"I think it's time." Erik suggested.

They slipped out of Tyler's apartment and slithered through the access panel of the vacated residence next door. Moving with the shadows Tyler clung to the wall and away from the glow of the street lamp. Reaching the window he accepted the small BB gun from Erik and listened as Erik counted time to the target.

"We got one, crackhead by the pay phone. They're about to do it. He's pulling out the money. Go."

At that moment Tyler quietly rose to his knees and smoothly poked the slender barrel of the BB gun through the open slot, sighting quickly he placed the target between the small notched sites and squeezed the trigger just as the urban trade was performed. The small projectile flew from the window in a downward arc, fleecing across the parking lot of the liquor store and pinching the skin of the grungy addict.

He jumped as if stung by a bee, hopping on both feet and clutching his lower back. From the open window both Tyler and Erik could hear the shout of surprise and pain as the addict grabbed his dope, squeezed his bruise and ran awkwardly from the scene.

The dope peddler, thinking his customer crazy, only laughed as he pocketed the filthy paper bills.

Tyler knew his actions held no affect on the corner's business. The police themselves told him as much when they responded to his first complaints with boredom, stoicism and finally exasperation.

"But they're out here all day and night! I can see 'em! These are the guys selling the drugs!" Tyler tried in vain to explain while the cops answered with equal passion.

"Sir, that's the way it is!" They said.

So Tyler declared his own Drug War and his victims bore the marks of his accuracy. It was an insurmountable effort though, and he knew it. His car window was smashed, his stereo stolen and mirrors unceremoniously removed. He knew it was not an act of revenge for his victims never knew what struck them, it was merely collateral damage for an address in that neighborhood.

Tyler was content to ping and ding the lower scurges who greased their disease across the corner's sidewalks and his guilt was always slaked by the actions which preceded his well placed marks. Once, a neighbor was attacked in the afternoon as her fiance ran up the steps with the groceries. She had stayed on the sidewalk to hold the door and was punched in the face for her generosity, a broken nose hers to keep while her purse ran down the street with her attacker.

Tyler hit the corner kingpin with three relentless shots later that evening, pumping the handle high and releasing powerful stings upon the large man's slabby muscular flesh. Each strike bringing rage and pain from the man's vile mouth. He, in fact, had the courage to call the police and lodge a complaint. Mystified when the landlord refused their entry the police were forced to listen as the landlord shook a steady finger at the drug dealer's face and asked them why he was not being questioned.

The purse was never found but the dealer wasn't sanctified either. It was as close to justice as the corner could expect.

Late that summer Tyler and Erik were relaxing on the back balcony, firing the grill and sharing cold drinks with the neighbor. Tyler used the balcony for these informal gatherings and he used it too as a small attempt to garden. The sun wasn't right though and the task was more ritual than function, the tiny tomato plant offering a small return on the time invested. But Tyler didn't mind.

Tyler saved what he grew and Erik wanted to ask why he kept the soft, unripe circles of pulp but Erik never remembered his query when Tyler was around, only later when driving home would he think to wonder again why it was Tyler kept a small basket of stale vegetables next to the plant.

It was late afternoon, the corner was quiet but each knew it was temporary and soon the sound of aggression could be heard marching up the block. There were five of them, each dressed in spectacular white. Their gym clothes of the finest and smoothest cuts, silky in their sheen and perfect in their press. The shoes they wore were meticulously polished, each lace stretched flat and dialed in a precise lattice. Their hats, stiff on the brim and pushed to the side, shone bright in the late afternoon sun. The five walked the sidewalk with a swagger leaving no room for the small woman to pass, she being forced to the street while they marched and swore in their youthful arrogance.

"Keep talking to each other and wait here. Don't look at them." Tyler said quickly with seriousness in his voice. He grabbed the small bag of rotten vegetables and dashed into the apartment.

"What's going on?" The neighbor asked nervously.

"Just keep looking at me and pretend like we're talking." Erik commanded.

"WHAT THE?" A voice choked with violent fury spat from the street. "SOME MUTHA'S 'BOUT TA GIT KILLED 'ROUND HEAH!"

At this outburst Aaron and the neighbor felt justified, even obligated, to look. What they saw was the end of a fine day for the five young thugs. Walking proudly under a decaying tree they had received the full impact of a sack of rotten tomatoes cascading from the sky and shredded by the brittle branches. Pulpy, red flecked shards of wet vegetable splintered and stuck to the once fine garments of the street toughs. The hats, moments ago being a sound source of pride and lust, were now stained with the assault's residue. The shoes were smeared, the brilliant white shirts and silky pants splattered with the flung decay.

Their fury was uncontrolled and needing a target they locked onto Erik and the neighbor. Violence of the purest and most undignified kind was invoked and threats, gestures and rage filled the corner. Erik looked and knowing the barrage would not be satiated with pleasantries shot cannons of fury back. Screaming innocence and righteousness he matched their anger with a deflection of their accusations that blushed the harshness of the corner.

Reluctantly they unlocked the steel penetration of their eyes and with a final threat turned and retreated. Erik was sweating, both from the heat and from his outburst, but the neighbor said nothing. Shortly the door to the living room opened and Tyler eased through.

"What happened?" He asked with deadpan seriousness.

A Hole In Hallowed Ground- 9/11 Eight Years On

"Somebody just crashed a plane into the Pentagon!" The toothbrush froze, leaving my mouth flecked with foamy paste as I looked at the man who had just barged into the bathroom of the Indiana rest stop where I had spent the night.

"On purpose?" I asked seeking further clarification.

"Yeah, on purpose." He replied with a look allowing his follow up question of 'where the hell have you been?' to remain unasked.

I finished brushing my teeth and went out to my car, tuning the radio past the static to hear special bulletins break in with stunning reports of a nation at war.

The Twin Towers struck. State Department bombed. Planes hijacked and the Pentagon in flames. It came so fast in those first hours. Second tower hit, second tower falls, the first not far behind. Tendons tried to hold my jaw in place but failed and I propelled my little Nissan down the road at sixty nine miles per with a mouth that could not close.

September 11, 2001. I came to the news late. I didn't' have a TV to watch. I was moving. To Virginia. Covered about seven hundred miles of America that day. Passed a lot of small towns and family diners. I pulled late afternoon special editions off the news racks. Full color photos of spectacular fireballs and dark shaped planes flying into the New York skyline. Eerie.

I stopped more frequently than I would have normally. I needed to share my day; it was too much to process alone and I needed human reaction and interaction. At the diners small crowds would huddle around the grainy television straining for a glimpse of the chaos unfolding. Nothing made sense, nobody had a grasp on what was happening. Only that the central target of the Cold War had been struck and the two iconic pillars of our civilization were no more.

"They were jumping!" A lady next to me said under her breath to no one in particular.

And they were. Like human raindrops. Death by gravity or death by fire. Many made the choice that day. 'They were jumping!' was how all my conversations started over the next few days. I kept hearing about the couple who jumped together. She was wearing a red dress. They held hands all the way down.

I went through a lot of emotions that morning and in the days that followed. Shock and surprise gave way to anger and sadness. Deep sadness. But I also felt pride. Pride in my country, pride in my fellow Americans.

Everybody locked eyes that day from the crusty farmer who blinked a tear as he pulled his eye from the little TV in the diner to the gas station attendant who sold me the paper with my $1.03 unleaded and the receptionist at the hotel where I pulled in to catch Dan Rather on the lobby big screen. Everyone was an American then and it was the first time I'd seen it so blatant and so unashamed. There were differing opinions, some wanted to 'Nuke 'em All!' while others held out for a more thoughtful approach but everyone was on the same bus and everyone felt the sting of the Terror Punch.

September 11, 2001. They said it would change the world, that things would be different from here on out. And they are, can't argue that. It's changed and we changed with it. But how did we change and did we change for the better?

The first alteration I saw was instant. The unity. The American Spirit. The defiance of all and the strength of everyone. Together we could do anything. That felt great. Remember? Going into a store and just feeling that? Hey, we're in this thing together. Black, Mexican, Brother or Other I didn't see a hyphenated nationality for weeks. Just Americans. Flag sales went through the roof. The flag means different things to different people but in the days after September 11 that flag meant WE were in it together.

That felt good.

But it didn't last and I ask now, eight years on, what have we done and where have we gone? The flag again means different things to different people, it's no longer an outrage to drag it on the ground and it's once more acceptable to stay seated while it's raised. Our freedom is back and we can push it for our own agenda regardless of how it affects the rest. We're safe from Terror now, the TSA makes sure of that and by God, nobody's ever going to sneak something onto an airplane in their shoes anymore.

Please.

When the Towers collapsed I would have bet paychecks that we'd have something in their place by Christmas. Knock us down? We'll build it back bigger and badder than ever. We'll touch the sky.

But it's eight years on. September 11, 2000 and effin' nine. And what do we have? A hole in the hallowed ground. No monument, no testament to our unified greatness, no landmark that gives New York it's place as the World City.

Instead we've got a bunch of selfish, bickering tweets who elbowed their way to the front of the line and claim they alone have the right and duty to consecrate the land in the way they deem fit. I don't even know exactly who they are anymore there's so many of them. Widows? Fire fighters, cops, bus drivers, Morgan Stanley employees, flight attendants? The list goes on.

And in the New America, same as the Old America, we're going to push, pull and tear to ensure I get mine and my interests are satisfied first.

Eight years later we got a fuckin' hole in the ground instead of a thousand foot finger to the sky that we can all look upon to remind us this war was brought to all of us and each of us has a stake in its outcome. Like it or not and all politics aside We are all in this thing together.

Freedom comes when we withdraw the demand to appease the individual and accept the will of the broad mass. The 9/11 monument will be built when we accept that reality and it will be something we will all be able to gaze upon with pride.

I look towards the day when we will commemorate the land at Ground Zero with a tribute that rises from the ashes and stands tall against the American sky. A legacy that incorporates the emotion that coursed through this country on that day and in the days that followed. September 11 is a day I remember for what it really was, a day in which this country dropped its superficial labels and barriers and became united. That's my 9/11 and that's the fitting tribute the memorial needs to be.

But for now we are forced to consume the monument that stands in its place. A memorial to missed opportunity, greed and self interest. A monument that has taken eight years to construct and one that can only be seen for what it is.

A hole in Hallowed Ground.

Kicked In the Balls- A True Story

Manhattan, Kansas, 1992- I've heard the story so many times and in so many versions from so many people that despite my not being present I do fashion myself as somewhat of a witness. This is a story about some guys. Guys from a fading generation. Guys that were not opposed to knocking your teeth out for an infraction of the unwritten rules. The gravity of that infraction could range from a wrong look to a slight against brethren of the female persuasion but to know you are in the presence of those who reward penalties with the loss of dental features warrants not only respect but attention as well.

They were all out at Tuttle Lake one day. One group of dudes and some chicks. Add one spurned ex-boyfriend, alcohol, testosterone and LSD and you got an afternoon of free fireworks. And yeah, they had Dave's 1964 Buick Skylark convertible too. The same powder blue sled of royalty that had chauffeured him home from the hospital just after his birth some 23 years before.

It was a story that happened in the sunlight but could be told at any time during day or night. And for a long time afterward it seemed to be told in an almost constant ramble. Passed from person to person it flowed seamlessly from conversation to conversation. There was no beginning. No middle. But the ending. The ending was always good. It was just that most times you were never around for the ending. Most people in fact thought the ending was somewhere in the middle but like I said, I've heard the thing told so many times in so many versions that the ending, in what I've deduced as the truth, was Just. Deserved. Warranted. Necessary.

And when all the participants were there to share their versions it was also pretty fuckin' funny.

It started out as something between one of the chicks, the ex-boyfriend and George but really, it was always about Dave. They'd gone up to the lake that day with a couple cars. Dave's in the lead. They had the booze and there was probably some other stuff but that ain't what the story was about. It was summer, it was hot. The lake may or may not have provided some relief. Most likely they just didn't have anything better to do and when Dave offered to drive the Buick anyone close by agreed to go.

They were parked, it was lazy and the sun was out. At first nobody noticed the guy at the other picnic table. But he noticed them. Or more precisely he noticed his ex girlfriend. And he sure as hell noticed the way she was enjoying the company of those guys. So he had to make something out of it. Started out with the verbal sparring which was deflected and ignored. It was August. In Kansas. Not really a good time to get riled up about anything.

But he kept at it. Came over eventually and tried to lay some hands on George. Why he chose George I never understood, maybe he was getting 'too frisky' as he liked to say. Whatever the cause once the hands were laid the situation was attended to. George didn't seek fights but he didn't run from them when they knocked on his door. This one was over pretty quick, George tossed a meat hook at the guy's face. He was already staggered from the booze he'd consumed and he went down. Limped back to his picnic table and nursed his nose while the guys kept going.

But he wasn't done and so he came back. And this time George didn't let him get first hands in. He popped him and dropped him. And here is where the versions get diluted. What George said and how he said it varied depending on the level of inebriation of the one telling it. Jace Face usually had the most dramatic quotes but Tommy could be counted on for his reasoned approach and I use his testament here.

"Get the fuck outta here and don't come back!" is how Tommy recalled George's reaction.

The dude left. He now had a swollen lip to accompany his nose. The guys went back to doing whatever it was they were doing. Impressing the chicks most likely but how they did so is also up for debate. Dave never really offered his anecdotal evidence until much later in the story. He was probably far more concerned with the chicks at this stage than with the showdown and most likely he wasn't even aware of the thing until later. It had been pretty one sided so far and that wasn't likely to rile his fire.

But the dude kept coming. Three times over, four times, then five. Each time he got beaten, each time progressively worse. The nose had a lip, an eye, a cheek and an ear added to it, each arrival being accompanied by more serious threats and invocations to 'Get the FUCK outta here!' Once, after he'd been pummeled to the ground, it was said that Jace Face had to be held back from leaping upon the dented body.

"Let me get him!" Jace Face reportedly screamed. But Jace face wasn't fooling anyone, he didn't like 'gettin' anyone.

The rest of 'em though. They did like gettin' at someone. And as the afternoon faded they each got a piece. The dude kept letting them. He'd heal up for a few minutes then stumble back over and get punched, pushed, tripped and pole axed by whomever it was whose number was called. The face met the pavement many times that afternoon.

But Dave hadn't yet gotten involved. George was finished, bored with it all. Tommy's hands were hurtin' and Mike no longer feigned interest. But the dude wasn't done and he now set eyes on Dave. And as he did, he wrongly decided that since Dave had not yet introduced his fist to the dude's face that Dave must not have been much of a challenge.

History is full of such situations. A vastly misunderstood opponent. The dude set his eyes, they were roundly considered to be chemically enhanced by all who told the story, and he staggered towards Dave. Ignoring the cries to 'Get the FUCK outta here!' by Jace Face, George and Mike he kept coming. Tommy by this point had accepted that there was but one conclusion to this ordeal and he at least was curious to see its climax. Dave said nothing.

The dude stepped into the circle, violating again the territorial boundary. Dave met him with an instant fist. A good one, one that dropped the dude. Dave then reached down and grabbed the shirt, ripping it as he did. Pop! Fleck! Bish! Three quick short hammers to the nose and he let him drop, rising with the torn t-shirt in his hand. The dude groaned and stayed prone for several minutes. But the chemically enhanced surge that raced through his bloodlines once more took him to his feet and he grappled Dave from his knees. Dave evaded the attack returning the advance with a kick that actually knocked a shoe off, not Dave's but the dude's.

He crawled away, one shoe missing, no longer able to wipe the blood with his shirt and his shorts ripped from the abrasive pavement which he now knew so well. It wasn't long before his fires were rekindled though, the rage of forsaken love and violent defeat not allowing him to recognize reality. He charged, feet hitting an uneven rhythm as they pounded across the lot one foot bare, the other covered. Dave exited the circle, met him half way and dropped him strong once more, this time reaching down and prying off the other shoe and tossing it into the woods.

"Now get the FUCK outta here!" Dave seethed to the dude, clad now in only a torn pair of shorts.

At this point the story usually got sidetracked, nobody who told it ever told a condensed version and by this point the assembled were weary from the descriptions. Most thought it ended here.

But it didn't. It couldn't. There had to be another chapter.

And there was. The one where the dude came back, fought Dave again and in this melee lost his shorts, ripped clean from his body. He now had nothing but the white cotton briefs stretched taught over his scraped frame. I know they were briefs because it was the one fact that everyone agreed on. No boxers for this guy. Briefs.

And he came back, marching across the lot to challenge once more. Our guys by now wondering just what it would take to stop him, fists did not seem to be enough. He attacked again and the outcome was predictable. What was not foreseen was the fury of his assault and how in the process of his totally focused energies he somehow managed to break free from his last remaining clothing. Naked.

He yelled from across the lot, appearing to take pride and strength from his new uniform. He threatened, swore and raged. Sweat mixing with the blood oozing from his dozen wounds and obscuring his eyes. Hair matted in tangled fury he raised both arms to the crowd surrounding the Buick. They stiffened and rose as one, united to the threat. The dude crossed the lot, a stumble, a stagger but never losing the target. He came from out of the falling sun, the shadows stretching long before him his vocal chords raw with vile oaths.

And as he stepped to the group Dave stepped from his, anger being replaced by duty. His guys were targeted and their ladies were threatened. He would not allow the farce to continue. It would end here. Now.

And this was the part of the story where you had to pay dues. You couldn't just hear the end and you couldn't just hear it from one person, you needed the stereo version and when it was told right. In sequence with the timing and rhythms it required it had a mythological element to it. And at the terminus it would be turned over to Dave, the scene having been set.

And like I said, I wasn't there but I've heard it told so many times and in so many ways...I knew the end but I waited with baited breath each time I heard it. And when Dave had been allowed to fully immerse himself in the retelling it carried the weight of history. Drama.

The dude lurched to the circle, naked and bleeding but intent on vengeance. And when he crossed the perimeter his end was swift and merciless. I once heard Dave tell this story to his father. I was behind him with his older brother, we were at Arrowhead Stadium watching the Chiefs on a Monday night and refilling our beers when Dave lassoed his father into the the fable. Dave would sometimes get so caught up in his own exploits that he no longer cared about the audience and at these times the story really gained strength, as though he was still standing on the edge of that circle, defending his friends.

And you could see Dave go back there. Back to that lot standing tall to the golden sun as the threat heaved towards him. And here Dave quelled the advance. Quelled it with the only weapon he had left at his disposal. And when he used that weapon he used it with all the considerable force he could summon. He planted his left foot firm, a full stride in front of him and he swung his other foot in a wide, strong arc the full power of physics behind it. It had one singular target and one singular purpose and it achieved it with the full concussion of the universe.

In history there have been three kicks which are considered perfections of science, the full culmination of all the forces of nature colliding in one terrific explosion. Chuck Norris is responsible for two of them. Dave owns the third. And when Dave was telling the story he could tell it with a vividness that was beyond mere words, he would paint it in a picture that caused his audience to wince. And since I knew what was coming, I nudged his brother and we both looked at his father to see how he would react. Dave was sweating, he always did when he told it right, and he no longer knew there was a football game going on. He locked his father's eyes in his and delivered the climax with the same force that he delivered his kick.

"And then Dad, I- (**Editor's Note, The following quote has been deleted due to the excessive squeamishness it has apparently caused to some of audience members...art sometimes it ain't pretty and when The General blushes it's time to rephrase...Editor's Note**) and as he told it a vision of the scene would cross the eyes of those who heard it and the involuntary wince would appear.

And his target dropped with a thud, naked on the pavement. And down for the count.

True story.

Faded Glory Snaps The Streak

Chelsea, MA- The bitter taste of defeat is an acidic bile and frothy grit that sticks to the teeth and festers like an unwelcome growth. It is the taste of Anger. Of loss. And of broken promises, wasted opportunities and youth gone to pasture. It is not a drink consumed with either relish or celebration and to those who have been forced to suffer its affects it leaves a stain that can be cleansed by only one remedy. Victory.

The Southern New Hampshire Faded Glory finally found the elixir to a three year, 31 game losing streak late Thursday night as they visited the Metro Red Stale Donuts and survived a bruising, fist flying, shot hurling, electricfied contest to post a 6-3 victory over their league rivals. It marked the end of what had been a futile and often cursed history for one of the Olde New England Lacrosse League's most troubled franchises.

"That streak is OVER! 0-31? Call it 1-0 now!" an exuberant player/coach Dan Tamberello said as he marched off the field to cheers and bursting champagne corks "I don't even remember the losing streak now!'

Refreshing the coach's memory, a local member of the Boston press corps reminded Tamberello that the streak was epic in many ways and not only held the title of being the longest in this league's history but, at 31 games, was the longest such streak in not only this sport but in five others as well. In fact when the President's 'Beer Summit' was interrupted to bring him the stunning news, Mr. Obama coughed his Bud Light through his nose and choked out an astonished comment.

"Damn! Those boys just didn't want to quit!" the Commander in Chief said.

The game was an electric event from the opening whistle and from the attitude of the Faded Glory's pre game drills it was apparent that that the tide was about to turn. Forsaking their ritualistic pre game stretch and opting for a simple warm up through the line drills the Glory took the field with the presence that this game was to be fought from the other side of the bar where the gloves were removed and the cry of 'Uncle!' was to go unheeded.

Controlling the opening face off with a unique display of animalistic brutishness Tamborello bull dozed the Stale Donut and left the ball exposed for Tony Silvestro to swoop in and claim possession. After a fast lap around the offensive horn the ball found its way into the stick of attackman Kyle Hintlian who made a quick deposit into the opposing cage.

"Nice way to celebrate a birthday." Hintlian was quoted as he left the post game celebration.

Quickly pouncing on the opportunity the Glory took the face off and maneuvered the offensive set to produce what midfielder Joey Barbagallo called "a perfect storm of relentless pressure." Whirling through the crease with a recklessness not seen in a generation Barbagallo was instrumental in creating enough havoc to allow attackman Mike Kaskiewitz a small seem in the defensive alignment. He plucked a pass from the swift midfielder and rifled a bullet through the hole to punch the back of the net and send the home team crowd into a stunned silence.

The onslaught was not over however and the Glory continued to bully their way through the next several face offs to control the possession and pace of the game. Recent additions to the Faded Glory have allowed the team to utilize speed and size to its considerable advantage and although the Donuts were able to gain some moments of offense the tenacity of Eric Kaskiewitz ensured those moments were brief and uneventful. The younger Kaskiewitz performed multiple, text book removals of the ball from opponent's sticks. Timing the checks with precise fury he lulled the Donut attackman into vulnerable positions before releasing wicked assaults upon his victim. The exposed ball would then be corralled by the Glory, turned up field and more often than not left in the back of the cage.

Towards the end of the second quarter the Donuts made a small run taking advantage of a confusing series of whistles which left the Glory up in the 'Punches Thrown' department but down in the 'Number of Players on the Field' department. Attackman Josh Hoffman and his stout defender unwittingly revealed several areas of mutual disagreement and unable to find more diplomatic abilities to reason them out resorted to a small but violent scuffle to achieve resolution. The referees, having been distracted by activity elsewhere on the field were thus forced to make a verdict with less than all the facts. It was a fragile peace that would not hold.

Halftime saw the Glory up by a deuce and as the boys slapped each other on the back and the whispers of post game celebratory debauchery could be heard one veteran member of the streak reminded the troops that a two goal lead was by no means safe with this bunch.

"The foot is on the throat, now it's time to twist that foot so they won't even want to get up." Midfielder Jed Dunham said to the fringe of the huddle.

The Glory came out hard in the third but this was a quarter where both teams could only toe the line and neither was able to deliver the required knock out. Glory did the necessary things to keep the game controlled with a strong defensive effort by Chris Gould and Jim Taylor. Taylor at one point cracked a stick over the arm of a Donut, grabbed the loose ball and hurtled upfield with visions of heroics playing on his face. Defying a team order that clearly mandates all such long stick clears are to be finished with a shot on the cage Taylor passed the ball off to a waiting attackman who turned and whipped it passed a diving goalie for a back breaking goal.

As the third quarter came to a close Dunham once again caused the Glory bench to wonder as to the whereabouts of his head. A hard charge to the Glory cage was repelled by stellar goalie, Keith Piatt and the resulting loose ball was plucked from the crease area by Dunham. With only seconds remaining in the quarter and not wishing for an untimely turnover Dunham heaved the ball from goal line to goal line and directly into the opposing goalie's stick. An irate Barbagallo demanded to know the justification for such an undisciplined clear until the quarter's end was announced by the referee's whistle.

"Oh, right. The quarter's over. Got it. Nice play." Barbagallo said.

The fourth quarter has been a quarter of high consequence for the Faded Glory. It is here where leads were lost, comebacks thwarted and dreams denied. One can't lose thirty one games in a row without some heartbreak and a quick scan of the seasons' passed unearthed a tragic history of last second demises and fourth quarter collapses. But this is team of endurance. A team of ignorance in that those tendencies are quickly forgotten and buried deep in the subconscious. This fourth quarter began with a slim 5-3 lead. But this was a lead that was cemented in concrete and one that would not be relinquished with ease.

The Glory kept up its mastery of the face off and was able to wind seconds off the clock with its aerial display of passing proficiency. Rookie James Gilbert created enough of a disturbance in the crease to free up Dan 'The Croatian Sensation' Butkovich to wheel off multiple shots that either ended up in the cage or past the end line where a waiting attackman snared repeated possessions. Defensively the Glory was able to defy an increasingly desperate attempt by the donuts to close the gap. With their 5-1 record on the line the Donuts steadily became less disciplined and on one late game possession this glitch produced explosive results.

Hoffman had the ball behind the crease and he artfully dodged his way towards the cage in search of open passing lanes. What he found was a stiff resistance to his efforts and as the ball was pried from his stick a tumult of bodies collapsed around the goal. What looked to be a simple undignified end to a bold play quickly escalated into a cacophony of insults, F* Bombs and fisticuffs. Struggling to his knees to deliver an uninvited slurry of thrown hands Hoffman was in no mood for apologies or explanations. He was only subdued after two large bodies intervened between him and his defensive nemisis to quell the disturbance but while involved in the peace making efforts attackman Kyle Hintlian was beefcaked from the back by a low flying forearm which only succeeded in igniting the aggressions further. It took some time before the referees were able to sort the mess out and by the time they did Hoffman was resting comfortably in his end of the penalty box.

The game's conclusion was not long after and the Glory held the lead for he final minutes even dropping a final goal into the net to close the contest as a 6-3 victory for the team's first win. The win solidified a team that had been tested to the limits of mental endurance and despite the unfamiliarity with the winner's podium the Glory quickly made themselves right at home as Mike Kaskiewitz removed a dented, faded and long past its prime can of America's truth serum, Pabst Blue Ribbon, which he shook and then exploded upon the tight circle of patient victors. As Kaskiewitz licked the froth from his sweat soaked chin one of the young admirers viewing the scene from the stands asked the attackman how it tasted.

"Tastes like *#$%!" Kaskiewitz answered as he frantically looked for something to wipe the ancient fermentation from his skin "Somebody get me a fresh one!"

As he slugged the more recently produced beverage the memory of that stale stenched liquid was replaced by the sweet taste of icy victory. Send in the Fat Lady, boys and plug in her microphone, the Southern New Hampshire Faded Glory finally won a game.

Don't Get Sick- The Health Care Plan For Everyone

Dinner at The White must be served on some pretty big plates because right now the man behind the Presidential Seal is working his way through a buffet that includes two foreign wars, an Asian nuclear threat, illegitimacy in the Iranian government, a Honduran coup, projected 10% unemployment, a backfiring auto industry bailout and a historical federal budget. Coming on the heels of Michael Jackson's death it is fair to say that President Obama has a full slate of tasks that require his attention. And we are now going to solve a riddle that has stumped America for a generation by completely revamping our current state of health care?

One can only hope he has left room for desert.

This is not a forum to bash our Commander in Chief or to pick our way through the politics of divisive thought. I wish only to lay out the facts so that a true measure of the challenge facing us can be weighed. And when it comes to health care reform in the United states the facts often get lost in the argument. Health care as we practice it in America is a broken machine with costs that far outweigh the returns. It's enormous, confusing and long overdue for a full body check up. And like many things in life it can best be explained by the money it costs to feed it.

Health Care. It means different things to different people but the dictionary definition sums it up nicely. Health is the soundness of body and mind and in this context care means 'to protect.' So health care can be translated as the protection of the soundness of body and mind. How do we accomplish this protection? Let's start with the government.

The government has two methods of providing health care. One is Medicare which is health care for those over the age of 65 and the other is Medicaid which cares for those from low income households. Together the government spends roughly 602 billion dollars annually to provide health care for the 87 million people protected by these systems. Neither is on the leading edge of exceptional service and they have spawned one of the better bumper sticker campaigns of the new administration, "If you think Health Care is expensive now just wait till it's free!"

Health care is not free, in fact it accounts for a thick 16% of the United States Gross Domestic Product. When combined with the private sector American health care cost us 2.4 Trillion dollars in 2008. That number is projected to grow to 3.1 Trillion by 2012 and to 4.3 Trillion by 2016 according to the National Coalition of Health Care (NCHC).

But where does the money go? How are we able to ring up a tab of that magnitude? In 2008 when we spent $2,400,000,000,000 on health care the NCHC claims that 480 billion of those dollars were spent on excess costs primarily due to administrative fees. Health care administrative costs is a loose brand that applies to the finances required operate the system we've built. There were 373,000 health care administrators in the U.S. in 2004 with a projected industry growth of 21-35% over the next decade. These are the office positions that file the insurance forms, schedule the patient visits and order the medical supplies. When 373,000 people have jobs which are said to cost 480 billion excess dollars per year one begins to realize that while health care reform sounds nice on the campaign platform it might pose a bit of a challenge if we are to accomplish it before the mid term elections.

But excess costs are not limited to office personnel. Ever had a stitch? Ever wonder what one of those little scissors used to snip the thread costs? Try a retail price of $453.00 according to an online medical supply site. Granted they are carbon bladed micro scissors but still, $453 to snip a thread?

So it is a big order if we are to fix health care in the United States. It's going to be a battle that will infiltrate every corner of the debate floor. Is it politically sustainable to tell 373,000 people that their jobs are part of the problem? Can we really tell manufacturers of medical supplies that they charge too much for their products? And remember we haven't even touched the topics of malpractice law or pharmaceutical profits.

So let's look at the plan. Obama came in with the promise that health care reform will happen in the first term and it will not raise taxes or be paid for with deficit spending. Sounded pretty good in August but last week White House Advisor, David Axelrod subtly mentioned the likelihood that taxes will be raised to cover this fight. Seems the tides of political rhetoric are being tested as the scope of this monster begins to reveal itself. If health care reform is to happen the very nature of its foundation ensures it will not come cheap.

The White House has a plan though and their website reveals it under the eight bullet points which they feel will best provide a solution. They vow to reduce costs for government and business, protect families from bankruptcy due to large medical bills, ensure choice of doctors, increase patient safety, maintain coverage for those currently insured, provide coverage for existing conditions, assure health care for everyone and then tucked quietly there in the back is a little heading for prevention.

Prevention. Now that's an idea. What would happen if we took a large chunk of this money and fed it into educating America on the risks of poor health? More physical education in the schools to stop obesity before it's too late? Educate the kids on how to read the labels on a box of food so they can teach their parents that while a Twinkie may be less expensive than an apple it actually costs far more in the long run. What could we save on treatments if we had a system that screened for cancer before we were faced with a full blown eruption of it? Perhaps then we wouldn't be faced with the task of plugging a crack in a bleeding levee.

There is a great discussion of how we could learn from the other industrialized countries who provide national health care for their citizens. In the United Kingdom everyone gets government provided health care. Great. The lines may be longer and you might not get the doctor you want but it does have an overwhelmingly high approval rating from those it serves. But there is a catch. There is no money provided for experimental drugs for the terminally ill. They will not spend money to extend life like we do here. If there isn't a cure involved there is no public funding. Is that something we could handle in America?

Because in America health care is a very large business and this business recognized long ago that there is no profit in the cure...

Iran and The Reality of Illegitimate Power

An illegitimate government rules Iran and they do so at the expense of their people. The events of the last week have shown the power of the people's voice and the power of the government's fist. This time it appears the fist has struck a powerful blow but the voice of the people cannot be silenced.

This Genie is out of the bottle and it cannot be put back in.

The recent presidential election in Iran has eclipsed an initial protest of election fraud and grown to a citizen denouncement of the Iranian government bringing untold thousands into the streets to show their distrust in that government and to display the anger which that distrust has caused.

The election of June 12 saw an unprecedented turnout of voters. 85 percent of eligible voters came to the polls to place a voice in their country's future. 39.1 million votes were cast. And when the Iranian government released the results of these hand cast votes a few scant hours after the polls closed they claimed the unpopular incumbent, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, had won in a staggering landslide giving rise to the street demonstrations that have streamed across television screens in a 24/7 cycle since.

The government of Iran admits there are discrepancies in the vote, in over fifty Iranian cities there were more votes cast than there were eligible voters. They also claim the 39.1 million votes were hand counted accurately within hours of the polls being closed, a statement that is difficult to accept on the surface and impossible to believe after deeper reflection. This was the spark that ignited the protests, a highly suspicious election.

The Iranian government took a definitive path at this historical fork in the road when faced with the electric response of its citizens. The Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khomenei, stood by the announced results and sneered at his people, thus elevating the demonstrations from a protest of election fraud to an open denouncement of the Islamic leadership which governs Iran. The demonstrations on Tehran streets now voiced opposition to the very power of a government so disrespectful of its citizens that it threatens violence and death to those who question its dictates.

And on this decree the history of modern Islam was written. The significance of the Iranian election is of the utmost importance to the world in which we live. The collision of radical Islam and western philosophy has plagued recent history with bloodshed, distrust and fear. Our generation may not witness a peaceful resolution to this strife but if a peace is to be achieved it must come from the Muslim world itself. And thus the voice of the Iranian people was received by the world with a very eager ear.

Saturday June 20, 2009 is a date that marks a very real step forward in world history. The street protests that were planned were explicitly and forcefully outlawed by the Iranian government in an attempt to reclaim the power it had begun to abuse. The word of the government, the word of Islam as they interpret it, was no longer a powerful enough threat to silence a population.

The People took the streets in the face of violent threats and in doing so they rose as one and showed the world that the voice of Iran is the voice of Islam and the voice of the Iranian government is the voice of an illegitimate, distorted and abused power. The Iranian government can no longer be accepted by the world as a voice of the Iranian people. The Iranian government has killed the voice of its people, most poignantly illustrated in the sad death of Neda, a young Iranian woman who was shot dead in her country's streets by her own government as cell phone cameras broadcast her last bloody breaths to a watching world.

Iran cannot go back. The government has been revealed for what it is, an outdated, illegitimate ruling power that has lost the support of its people. They will retain their power for now as the power of the gun still holds court over the power of peaceful assembly but they no longer are viewed as the true voice of the Iranian people. They are impostors, holding their own citizens hostage. The Revolution has begun and it will not end until the ruling party is removed. This will take time but there is a Free Iran in the world's future and that freedom will be earned by the Iranians themselves.

The question to the world is how do we respond? It is a fragile arena for political commentary as the inherent distrust of the west can play a negative role if it is thought the United States is meddling in a region where it does not belong but we cannot stand silent. The Iranian people stood up for themselves and out of political necessity they stood up alone. It is now time for the world to stand next to them and and display the allegiance that is needed to move forward. The world must ally itself with the righteous and denounce the oppression. The government of thugs now ruling Iran must be exposed for who they truly are.

The future is a murky place at best but the world made a historical leap in the last seven days. Iran has displayed the courage and the passion that is vital to cause real change and their freedom will come. They showed the world what true bravery is as they stood to the threats of death with unity and solidarity. They stood for a Free Iran and a true Islam. The first battle in this new war has been fought and while the streets of Tehran may be temporarily silenced by the steel toed boots of a dictatorial regime the people have spoken.

The Iranian people are a true voice of Islam and the the Iranian government has shown it does not abide by the voice of its people.

The pages of history are written in the streets and they are authored by the people. The people of Iran are to be saluted for the bravery it takes to write that history.

Iran and The Power of The People

History happens. Sometimes it occurs long before our birth and sometimes long after our death but on some occasions history throws its weight right in front of our eyes. And it's happening absolutely now in the streets of Iran as Friday's presidential election is being called by the people for what it is, a sham of epic proportions.

For many Iran is a place of simple mystery where the United States Embassy was once attacked and its staff taken hostage. A place where a president in casual dress denies the Holocaust and enjoys provoking western governments with a nuclear desire. It's a place that we in the western world often overlook and discount.

Iran cannot be discounted. It is a place that in many ways, defines modern history. Certainly a place where modern Islamic history is being sown and a true barometer of how the Middle East will fit into the new modern world.

It is a place where it would be of great benefit for us to pay keen attention.

The last few days in Iran have raised the eye of interest and the images streaking across the satellites are reminiscent of the Beijing news blots from Tiananmen Square. There is a revolution brewing and it will illustrate how Iran and the Middle East will play on the world stage in the 21st century.

In the briefest of nutshells, Iran had a presidential election on Friday that pitted the incumbent, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad against popular reform candidate, Mir Housein Moussavi. Emotions leading up to the ballot box put the polls on a razor thin, even line for the most extreme predictions and a sweeping victory for Moussavi on the side of the more conventional ones. The 'official' results released late Friday night showed Ahmadinejad claiming a 2/3 majority and with it, the office of the presidency.

To say these results are disputed is a titanic understatement and the protests that have clogged the streets of Tehran are the tip of a social iceberg that could threaten the status quo of Islamic rule and the Middle East power structure.

These are important times and as such they require some basic background to understand. Iran is the world's first, and the Middle East's only, Islamic state. The country is ruled by Islamic clerics, not aristocratic royalty. The Islamic Revolution of 1979 resulted in the overthrow of the Shah of Iran, a westernized ruler who had lost the respect and loyalty of his people. The Islamic theocracy that replaced the Shah is overseen by the Supreme Leader, formally the Ayatollah Khomeini who graced the American news cycles of the 1980's and currently the Ayatollah Ali Khamenei who resides in the background of the Iranian political scene but who is never far from the leash that controls the political machine.

The Iranian Constitution grants the Supreme Leader the power that his title implies. No political decision in Iran is lawful until approved by the Supreme Leader, including the decision of who is allowed to run for president and most importantly who is allowed to serve as president.

The current president of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has a dubious reputation as a world leader. Sometimes comical and other times frightening his image is scrolled across western news wires for his outlandish denials of the Nazi Holocaust or his repeated threats to arm Iran with nuclear weapons. I am not certain to what degree his rhetoric is scripted by the Islamic theocracy but it is fair to say no political action from Iran would be performed without the explicit consent of the Islamic leadership.

Ahmadinejad's term has been marked not only by the foreign policy debacles he is famous for but also for tight government controls of speech and the distressing condition of the Iranian economy. The people of Iran began to lose faith and confidence in the government and the slow seeds of change began to sprout, opening the door for opposition. Proof once again that restrictions on basic human freedoms had better come with a healthy dose of material substance if the powers that be intend to remain in those positions.

The apathy of the 2005 Iranian elections which allowed Ahmadinejad to take office was replaced by an almost fanatical turnout in 2009. Announcing his campaign in March (we Americans could certainly learn something from this) Mir Houssein Moussavi ran on a platform of reform focusing on the economy and increasing freedoms of speech and promoting equality for women. The younger generation, born after the 1979 Revolution received this call with rabid passion and the 2009 election witnessed massive voter turnout and Iran seemed poised to once more lead the Middle East in cultural and political ideology.

And then the opposition websites were shut down, text messaging eliminated and the and the blockage of news from outside Iranian borders enacted. And late Friday night the results were announced. Ahmadinejad wins in a landslide grabbing 62% of the popular vote. When voter fraud is released on the population it is important to at least make that fraud sound plausible. The Iranian people are not an ignorant people and this 'official' result mocked their intelligence and was not accepted. And thus, we are now witness to scenes of citizen protests that have eclipsed even those of the 1979 Revolution. The very existence of the current government is threatened.

The importance of the events occurring in Iran right at this moment are far beyond symbolic. This is history at its ignition point. By week's end this story could be over and the government crackdown could turn deadly violent thus snuffing any chance for Iran emerge at its rightful place on the world stage. Or this could be the beginning of the modernization of the Middle East, a true democracy incorporating both the cultural and spiritual necessities of Islam with the world community.

Islam must find a way to bridge the gulf between its theology and its politics. The western world cannot do this. The avenue must be paved from the Middle East outward. This is the chance for Iran to show that its people are the voice of Islam and for the Iranian government to show that it is the voice of the people.

Tiananmen Plus Twenty

Twenty years have passed since that lone man stood in front of a column of tanks and gave the world an image that has come to represent the power of peace over might. Twenty years since the protests in China's Tiananmen Square gathered the world's attention and raised the question of who is China and what is her place on the new world stage?

It has been twenty years and yet many of the questions raised then are still largely unanswered. The goal of this week's topic is to shed a brief glow of light on what happened twenty years ago and why that event remains relevant in today's world.

Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China was the scene of one of the more remarkable events in human history for a period of seven weeks in the spring of 1989. Responding to the death of a beloved, forward thinking Chinese official named Hu Yaobang, Chinese university students gathered in the square to mourn his passing in April, 1989. This initial assembly quickly evolved into a protest of the authoritarian rule of the Chinese government and the public square was soon populated by students from across Beijing, then from across China and then by people representing all walks of Chinese culture. The protest was not well organized but the general calling was for for an end to the repressive regime and a new direction for China which would embrace the benefits of democracy and transparent government.

As April turned to May the protest began to generate momentum. Coming on the heels of falling communist governments in eastern Europe the Chinese student uprising seemed like the next domino scheduled to fall but it was not until the world media arrived in Beijing to cover the state visit of Mikhail Gorbachev in mid May that the movement attracted the attention of the rest of the world. It quickly became apparent that the real story in Beijing was happening in Tiananmen Square.

By mid May the students had submitted a list of seven demands that they wished the government to respond to and to further their cause they entered into a hunger strike which aligned them completely with the general population. This hunger strike, performed by as many as one thousand students ignited a Chinese population and what had begun as a mourning tribute to a reform minded official was now gaining momentum as a national revolution touching all levels of Chinese society. This growth and and the unplanned spontaneity of the assembly caused the leadership to fragment. There was no formal hierarchy or consolidated organization as the protest grew to include not only students but members of every social and economic class as well. The world media, in China to cover the soviet visit, were soon reporting the amazing scene inside Tiananmen Square. A scene that was rapidly growing and one which gave all the appearances as the birth of an earth shattering democratic revolution. People came from across China choking the rail and bus stations to be a part of the tremendous social wave.

The Chinese government now recognized the protests were a legitimate threat to their existence and moved to stop it. Sending vast numbers of military troops into the city with the intention of forcefully removing the protesters they were alarmed when the population of Beijing flooded the streets and like human concrete swarmed around the military vehicles and blocked the advance in its tracks. Entire columns were stuck in the streets for days as the people united to halt the government troops. The scales were tipping away from the government and the situation was growing desperate.

The Chinese government withdrew the troops and the people applauded, believing a peaceful change was imminent. The government had other ideas and on the evening of June 3, 1989 they reentered the city under the cloak of darkness and surprise. The mission was the same. Remove the protesters from the square and end the uprising. The details of this night are murky at best but it seems the troops met resistance at nearly every street corner as they advanced on the square. Civilians tried in vain to slow the assault as they blockaded the intersections leading to the square with buses, cars and fires. Small sporadic fire fights erupted at these blockades and the Chinese troops fired on the civilians. This is where the majority of the casualties occurred, in the streets leading to the square. It is not known how many casualties the government troops did inflict but what is known is that in the early morning hours of June 4, 1989 the troops entered the square and with the use of tanks and guns cleared the square. Estimates of the casualties range from the official Chinese tally of 241 dead to international estimates in the thousands.

It is probably fair to say that on this evening the Chinese government killed 2600 of its own people to suppress the protest and reestablish its power. As the sun rose on June 4, 1989 two things were certain; the protest was over and the communists were still in power.

That was twenty years ago. A small blip on the history of humanity. Largely forgotten and mostly unnoticed but the events of those seven weeks have had a resounding effect on not only China but on the world as well. The most telling of these effects has been China's rise on the global stage and the weight it is able to throw in the world economy. In the resulting aftermath of the Tiananmen Square Uprising China no longer funds public education past the primary level unless the student has aced the entrance exams. I suppose the government felt that by reducing the number of students they would effectively eliminate the number of student protests. This has meant the rural populations have been forced to move to the urban centers to find work in order to pay for the continuing education of their children. When they arrived in the urban areas they were met by the newly empowered heads of Chinese industry who put them to work in the manufacturing facilities that are the corner stone of the new Chinese economy.

China knew it had to change but the government wanted to change on its terms. The communists have maintained control of the political stage while granting new freedoms to the industrialists. Both rely on each other and both exist at the expense of the conquered public. Made in China is stamped on the packaging of nearly everything we buy these days. It may as well say Made in China at the expense of the Casualties of Tiananmen Square.

Race- The Permanent Hurdle

"Until the color of a man's skin is of no more importance than the color of his eyes there will be war." so said Haile Selossie, Emperor of Ethiopia, to the League of Nations in the 1930's and subsequently quoted by Bob Marley in the song 'War'.

Sadly, the color of the skin is still of importance to the world today and for many it will continue to be. The Human Race has had its share of battered history and brutal holocaust. That is not the argument. The question today is why are we still locked in this quagmire and when, if ever, will we emerge?

There's a big change occurring in Washington DC at this moment. A decision has been made that often helps to define a presidency and outline a new future for the American Nation. That is the nomination and confirmation of a new United States Supreme Court Justice. It's a big deal. The Supreme Court is comprised of nine justices who truly hold the most powerful positions in government as they are the only positions that come with a life term. The Supreme Court has the power to take your guns, restrict your speech and govern your body. It is in our best interest to know who they are and for what they stand. Today, President Obama will have his first nominee enter the process of confirmation to become the new justice, replacing Justice David Souter.

The choice is named Sonia Sotomayor and it is difficult to find her judicial views in the broad headlines of the mass media. It is apparent that she is indeed female and in a political coup it is also revealed that she is Hispanic. These facts make her qualified in the America of today. A land of quota over qualification.

I do not argue the facts of our racial past. It's an ugly truth and one which we must accept and study. But the truth in America today is that race is no longer an issue. It is over. We are no longer held back by the color of our skin, the gender of our sex or our physical limitations. The Race War is finished and peace has been declared. We won. The proof is on the presidential seal. Barak Hussein Obama is the President of The United States of America and in case you missed the news flash, he's black!

The point of this is we can no longer use the crutch of race to prevent us from achieving our goals. If a black man can be elected President of the United States then anybody can do anything in this country. Surely there are, and always will be, those who cannot get past the color of the skin and there will always be those who cannot refrain from a slur or derogatory comment. Welcome to life in the real world. But we've reached an era where race has played itself out and in truth, no longer matters. I can agree that there is still a very real economic discrimination in America today which holds down a populace and prevents many from competing on an equal surface but I don't accept that people are locked out of the American Dream by race alone.

But race still matters. Matters more now than it did in 1860. It matters now because despite all the battles fought and won there are those who will not allow the flag of peace to fly. And these are the ones among us who are the most vocal about ensuring our racial equality. The ones who rally and chant for racial equality are the very ones who prevent it from happening. Because every time a person's race, gender, sexual orientation or creed is brought to the argument that person is rendered inconsequential. It's sad that the greatest accomplishments of this Supreme Court nominee occurred at the moment of her birth and that she had absolutely nothing to do with them. By celebrating Sotmayor's Hispanic identity we have eliminated her identity. She will get confirmed and she will be seated on the court for its next session but we'll know less about her views than we will about her youth in a Bronx housing project because the guilt of our past keeps us mired there and prevents us from exploring our future.

It would do our country and our culture justice to examine who Sonia Sotomayor really is and what she really thinks but her race and gender won't allow for that to occur. The Supreme Court is a powerful place and this is a very important appointment, as are all Supreme Court appointments.

It would serve us better to focus our attentions on what makes the person who they are and not so much on what they are.

North Korean Earthquakes and Global Warnings

A seismic rumble was recorded deep inside North Korea early Monday morning and it was enough to register a 4.5 on the United States Geological Survey Richter Scale. This earthquake would barely cause a Californian to blink but it did succeed in sending dramatic shock waves throughout the political world. Why? Because it was man made. A Nuclear Quake triggered by a globally condemned test conducted by the North Koreans to deliberately rattle the cages of the world community.

North Korean nukes. Not a comfortable political topic and when it was followed by two more missile tests which the United Nations had specifically warned the North Koreans not to execute it succeeded in propelling one of the world's more mysterious regions back into the forefront of a political nightmare.

Why is North Korea in the news? Why do they matter? The easy answer is the nuclear potential of a volatile and unpredictable nation led by a delusional dictator. The more complicated answer is the tender political balance which is threatened. All the major players have a stake. Russia has a voice, China is right in the mix and both South Korea and Japan are unwilling to sit idle while the United States attempts to play referee with a clearly impotent United Nations as the authority. Add this to a physically weakened North Korean leader, an uncertain political successor and a North Korean military that enjoys provoking their neighbors and we have all the makings for a dangerous game of 'Who Blinks First?'

So how will this play out? Why now? And what's it mean to you? A quick history of the Koreas is in order. We've been there before. Fought a war with them and have maintained one of the world's most heavily armored borders since peace was declared back in 1953. North Korea does not like South Korea and the feeling is brutally mutual. North Korea is also one of only four remaining hard line communist countries left on the planet, the others being China, Cuba and Vietnam. Communism is not generally known for its 'open book' philosophy when it comes to government and foreign policy nor does it boast an exemplary record of human rights. The North Koreans have boldly upheld that reputation for over fifty years but with the ascension to power of their current dictator, the 'Dear Leader Kim Jong Il' that standard has been stretched.

Kim Jong Il is the second son of North Korea's first dictator and he has a reputation which depending on who you believe is just a little bit on the other side of normal. The North Korean media outlet, KCNA, claims he was born on a sacred mountain under a double rainbow and among his many gifts he is apparently quite the golfer, routinely nailing three to four holes in one per round. Why he limits himself to the dictatorship of an increasingly isolated country when he could be rolling a Nike sponsorship to Master's fame is past me but then I'm not one to claim enlightenment.

The western accounts of Kim Jong Il reveal him to be a quirky sort who travels by armored train, loves Hollywood movies, imports $700,000 of cognac a year and maintains an appetite that favors lobster, sushi and caviar which he eats with silver chopsticks. Jay Leno said Jong Il's lifestyle of drunkenness, dishonesty and sexual excess make him qualified candidate for US Congress but that's for another day. Obviously, it's good to be the king.

Not so good to be a North Korean citizen though because despite the nation celebrating his birthday as if it were Christmas, New Year's and the 4th of July all in one, Kim Jong Il's political decisions have left his country in a very hard state. By isolating his country on the international stage and refusing foreign industrial assistance his country experienced devastating floods in the mid 1990's which was followed by an epic famine that has claimed the lives of at least 200,000 North Koreans and possibly as many as 3.5 million.

Starvation makes a tough campaign platform but then dictators don't need to worry about reelection. What they do need to worry about is staying in power and after Kim Jong Il suffered a severe stroke in 2006 that question has had a very vague answer.

So North Korea is in a state of international isolation, internal uncertainty and civilian panic. North Korea is a self described 'Military First' state. Their economy and infrastructure are based on it. They rely on international aid to feed their population and as they flex their nuclear muscles and rattle their sabres that international aid gets reduced. Nobody wants a military action on the Korean peninsula. By all accounts it just wouldn't be worth it and it is not necessary. But North Korea wants to be recognized as a global player and wants the respect that goes with it. Hey, if our leaders could consistently knock down 3-4 holes in one per round I'd want that respect too.

But when North Korean media releases state sponsored decrees, like their response to the 2006 United Nations Security Council Resolution condemning the first nuclear test, that say "When a nuclear war will break out due to the war chariot of South Korean-US military alliance is only a matter of time." Well, it's going to make some people nervous when the North Koreans continue to develop and test a nuclear program.

The North Koreans are running short on friends right now and their enemies are not going to sit quietly by while they thumb their noses at international threats. An announced missile test in April was met by strong opposition from the United Nations. The UN formally told the North Koreans not to go through with that test. The North Koreans did and the United Nations drafted a letter of condemnation. A letter of condemnation? That must have really got the North Koreans scared when they opened their mailbox that day.

And that was a test for a missile which was to launch a research satellite into orbit to grow the North Korean space program. I'm not sure how they are rationalizing a nuclear bomb being detonated underground but count me cynical if I'm not 100% on board with it being part of their nuclear energy 'research' program.

It's the politics of politics though. I don't believe the North Koreans want to ignite a nuclear war. I do think they have some ulterior motives for launching this test at this time. They have a population that is starving and a dictator that is in failing physical health who would like to choose his own successor. A nuclear test in the face of global condemnation serves two purposes. One, it shows the military within North Korea that Kim Jong Il still possesses the strength the lead and should thus be allowed to make the choice for his son to succeed him and two, it gives the world another threat to deal with. This threat can be bargained for concessions to the strict sanctions that have been imposed upon North Korea and as a result feed a population which the government itself has shown neither the ability nor desire to feed themselves.

The next play is on the world leaders. It's a political test and President Obama's reaction will be interesting. The North Koreans have shown they don't have an interest in responding to either warnings or letters. The question now is how will we respond to threats?