Wednesday, December 12, 2012

12:12:12 PM on 12-12-12




Just before I took a break for lunch today, it was 12:12:12 PM on 12-12-12.  Somehow I missed it.

My son had reminded me to watch the clock this afternoon for the rare and historical date and time stutter.  I thought about it around 11:45 AM and had every intention of stopping to admire the moment.  I still missed it.  I looked up at my clock on the telephone screen at 12:13 PM.  Just in case that clock wasn’t not properly synchronized with the atomic clock, I checked the time stamp on my computer.

12:14 PM.

I had fair warning.  There is no excuse for missing it.  But now it’s gone.  I’ll never again have the chance to experience the thrill of 12:12:12 PM on 12-12-12, unless I exceed my life expectancy odds by a considerable margin.  I am not optimistic.

I was busy.  I had work to do.  I was focused on the task at hand.  None of it was more important than noticing the clock tip over to 12:12:12 on 12-12-12, but on this day that busy work took precedent.  I am filled with the regret of what could have been a meaningful second to appreciate, ponder and enjoy.  

This isn’t my first regret and it won’t be my last.  I missed my car’s odometer flip to 100,000 miles.  I forgot to wake up for Haley’s Comet’s last visit.  I had fair warning.  I missed it anyway. 

Many times we look up and realize that we just missed something, but somehow we convince ourselves that the moment will return.  It may, but it will never be exactly the same.  It may be the only time in your lifetime that all the numbers line up in your favor.  You can’t let these opportunities slip by. 

Most historic opportunities in our lives are not announced as far in advance as the coming of 12:12 PM on 12-12-12.  Most opportunities happen when we least expect them, when we are not looking.  So the lesson is to always be looking. 

This holiday season, may we all look up from our distractions at the exact right moment to experience that once-in-a-lifetime historic opportunity, whatever yours might be.  Hopefully, the next one will come before January 2, 2034 at 5:43:21 PM (1-2-34, 5:43:21). 

Your opportunity could be soon, perhaps on 12-13-12 at 1:21:31 AM and PM, too.  Stay vigilant!

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Driving a Hard Bargain



Ah, the joys of watching your children grow up and spread their wings.  There is nothing as fulfilling or as aggravating as they reach for independence and push against the limits of common sense and respect for their parents.  Now that my oldest is driving a car legally, she is reaching for that independence with a vengeance. 
 
Since my daughter has no right of privacy as my dependent child, I will proudly share with my loyal readers a recent email exchange between my soon-to-be-17 year old and me surrounding her freedom fight.  The punctuation and grammar has been preserved throughout to give you the full flavor of the electronic negotiations.

It begins with a request from my daughter.  Based on the early use of formal language and the expressions of love and respect in the message, I knew the final answer would be ‘no’, but I read it as a courtesy:

Dearest parents, let me start by saying the only thing important in life is following Your rules and keeping me safe. However, I do have a slight objection that I would like the be rethought.

On Sunday, December 9th I have gathered permission to go to the mall with (name withheld). Alas, her parents cannot pick us up or drop us off, making it very inconvenient. I know that in the past you have said no passengers until at least 2013. However this is a different circumstance. Ms. (name withheld) would not only be a distraction free passenger, but a helpful one. She pledges to remain silent and quietly scan the road ahead, helping me to make judgements only if needed and therefore making it a safer ride. She has even offered to sit in the backseat.

If you are worried about the trip, I would be happy to drive one of you to the mall on Saturday to display my excellent skills and also show that I know how to get there. 

I know that this would be an exception to the rule, and that it will NEVER be brought up again until January or whenever you feel I am ready to take a passenger. 

Please consider this offer, and consider trusting my judgements of my own driving skills and ability to say no do distractions. If Ms. (name withheld) is a distraction in any way, I will have no problem asking her to stop as we are best friends.

Again, if you accept my request, I will understand that it is a one time deal. 

Thank you for your time.

I was impressed by the effort, particularly since she typed this into her iPhone using the teeny little touch keypad.  My fingers were never that skinny.

Here is my response.  Hey Moms and Dads out there – any of this sound familiar?

Dearest Daughter, let me start by saying the only thing important in life is following OUR rules and keeping you safe. Therefore, we do have a slight objection to your request that will not be rethought.

While I have no doubt that Ms. (name withheld) would do her best to be a distraction-free passenger, the prohibition against riders in the car with you remains in full force.  We are not worried that you do not know where the mall is.  We are not worried that you would do your utmost to be responsible and cautious.  We are admittedly worried about the mall traffic on one of the last Saturdays before Christmas; it can be crazy driving at or near the mall even for experienced drivers such as ourselves.  Regardless, no passengers is the law of the land at this time.

We trust your judgment; we would be foolish on our part, however, to believe that your good judgment skills translate into adequate driving experience.  One does not equal the other. 

As a reasonable compromise, I would be happy to deliver you both to the mall on the 9th and then withdraw, allowing you and Ms. (name withheld) unsupervised shopping for a period of time of your choosing.  At the conclusion of your shopping, I will offer my services to return and transport you both safely home.  During such driving time, I will happily ignore you both and do my best not to even make eye contact.  It will be just like I am not there.

Please go back to focusing on your studies for the remainder of the school day and we will see you this afternoon.

All our love and trust,

Mr. and Mrs. Sherrier

Did I mention that she emailed me from school during the school day?  That is frowned upon, at least by me.  I never used my cell phone during my entire high school career and I survived.  Suffered through some long uphill walks both ways as I recall.

My beautiful offspring did not appreciate my email denial and responded with a little less literary effort and a little more edge:

that is in no way a compromise

To which I responded as the calm, rational adult that I pretend to be:

I must respectfully disagree.  The goal of your request was to 1. Get to the mall, and 2. Get there without someone else driving.  Our goal was to 1. Keep you safe, and 2. Keep you at home to do chores that benefit the entire family.  We have compromised by accepting your goal #1 but denying goal #2.  We get to keep you safe, but sacrifice having you home to help with chores.  You are getting one-half of what you wanted and we are getting one half of what we wanted; therefore, this is a compromise - the Compromise of 2012.

The Compromise of 2012 was a veiled reference to the Compromise of 1790, a topic that she studied in AP U.S. History, and a compromise that I found fascinating to read about as a history buff.  (yeah, that’s right – I’m a buff).  OK, I was tweaking her with the AP history mention, but I got some fatherly masochistic pleasure out of it.  I earned some reward for my participation in her futile growth experience, didn’t I? 

When the smoke cleared, I drove Marra and her friend to the mall on Saturday without so much as a complaint or an eye roll – at least not from her.  She had unconditionally surrendered to the terms of my compromise and we both learned something in the process.  I learned that when we discuss things in a calm and rational manner, we both enjoy a better outcome.  She learned that it is probably easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

With that in mind, my victory feels less absolute. It's going to be a long year.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Never Too Soon

As has been well documented, in October 2007, my daughter and I visited New Hampshire to follow Republican and Democratic candidates around the state as they pursued their respective party’s nomination.  It was a good year to be on the ground since both parties were fielding dozens of possibilities.  We knew that on any given day of our visit, we were bound to run into someone and that someone could be a future President.  We were hoping for quality but settled for quantity.  We enjoyed a full buffet of Giuliani, McCain, Edwards, Huck, Hillary and Kucinich, which is quite a lot to swallow in such a short period of time. Overeating can make you sick and we were stuffed with platitudes for 4 long days.

2016 is shaping up to be the same kind of year with a wide-open smorgasbord of choices from both sides of the aisle.  It may be too early to bite into the presidential race at this point, but we can set the table at least, can’t we?

The 2016 presidential field deserves a few seconds of consideration so I will grant the various names that have been floated their just desserts –a few seconds each:

On the Republican side (in no particular order):

Rick Perry – Seriously, whoever keeps whispering in Perry’s ear that he’s got a chance at the nomination, have a heart and stop torturing the guy.  He’s a cartoon.  He’s Yosemite Sam without the beard. 

Paul Ryan – This is assuming that he can completely rid himself of The Stench, and that no one takes the time to delve into the details of his Plan to revive a new and improved Dark Ages.  That said, he’s even odds.

Marco Rubio – He’s the GOP’s personification of “Hey, some of my best friends are Hispanic.”  He is the national frontrunner as of a news report today, which means he won’t survive the Iowa straw poll.

Chris Christie – Now that he’s been outted as a RINO, his prospects have dimmed.  He’ll need to apologize to Iowa caucus goers for once complimenting Obama and he’ll have to have a Huckabee weight loss conversion story to tell by 2014…and write a book about his acceptance of personal weight responsibility as a model for the nation.

Jeb Bush – Because someone has to repair the family legacy, and he can win Florida.

Michelle Bachmann – She’ll have a new book to promote by then and Newt Gingrich proved that the best way to sell books and schedule paid public appearances is to add “former Presidential candidate” to your CV.

Rick Santorum – If the idea of a theocracy is ever going to catch on in America, he’s your sweater-vested poster child for the cause.

John Thune – The vanilla candidate from South Dakota.  His name keeps coming up, mostly because the mere mention doesn’t make anyone cringe.  No one knows if it should.  No one outside the 20001 zip code knows who he is.

Bob McDonnell – The perfect GOP choice for 2016 if women lose the right to vote for the 2016 presidential election.  Let the disenfranchisement campaign begin!  His candidacy will surely revive the 2012 pithy catch phrase “transvaginal probe”.

Kelly Ayotte – Now that McCain and Lindsay Graham are too old to run, Sen. Ayotte from the electoral vote-rich New Hampshire could be their heir apparent.  She likes getting her picture taken with them.  As a woman, GOP primary voters may assume that all women will vote for her, regardless of her positions on the issues.

Rob Portman – Because they can’t win without Ohio and he is from Ohio.  Of course, that didn’t work for Romney who lost both of his home states, Massachusetts and Michigan, but one can dream.

Nikki Haley – The odds of her saying something stupid and disqualifying before 2016 are 3 to 1.  The odds of her saying something stupid and disqualifying before 2016 and winning the Iowa caucus are even money.

Bobby Jindal – He made the heroic move of being the first to cast stones at Mitt Romney’s ridiculous campaign positions after the election was lost.  Clearly he has the character to make tough decisions.

Jon Huntsman – Regardless of his popularity or stand on the issues, his face would look good on money someday.  Don’t discount that fact.

Tim Pawlenty – I mean, what else can this guy do at this point?  Might as well run.

Herman Cain – Herman is the proverbial moth to the flame.  He will not be able to resist the clarion call from within his own ego.  I fear that we have not heard the last of 9-9-9.

Scott Walker – Is there something weird about his eyes, or is it just me?

Jon Kasich – His popularity in his state may be polling below the United Nations by 2015, but he’s still a longshot to form an exploratory committee.

Rand Paul – Because dad is too old to go again, and those pesky Libertarians need one of their own.

Condoleezza Rice – Republican? – check; woman? – check; minority? – check; international experience? – check.  She’d have it all if only she hadn’t championed wildly destructive and unpopular Bush administration foreign policies for 8 years.  When I think of her chances at the nomination, I think of a giant mushroom cloud.

Susana Martinez – She spoke at the GOP convention before the Empty Chair fiasco.  Republican? – check; woman? – check; minority? – check; international experience? – check (if New Mexico counts as a foreign country).  Some smart Democrat will nominate her for a Cabinet post as a demonstration of bipartisanship and thereby destroy her credibility with the radical Right base.  “If they want her, she must not be one of us!”  

Mike Pence – He’s the 2016 version of what Tom Tancredo and Duncan Hunter were in 2008.  Never heard of them?  Exactly.  

On the Democratic side (in no particular order):

Hillary – Any questions?

If Hillary chooses to run, it’s over.  She would swamp the competition before they got out of the harbor in a flood of money.  While she paraded through town hall meetings wearing her crown of inevitability, she could bask in the warmth of the Republican field of 20 burning down each other’s houses, one debate at a time.

Since you never know, I’ll mention a few other options:

Joe Biden – Hard to win when your nickname is Crazy Uncle Joe.

Martin O’Malley – He possesses one of the key ingredients to a successful run – he really wants it.  National ambition is not a policy position, however, so he’ll play the role of Howard Dean in 2016, excite the Far Left and get caught on YouTube screaming like a madman.

Mark Warner – He’s the early favorite to be the Adult in the Room.  He has kept his head down and worked hard to establish across the aisle relationships.  His business career makes him feel like a Republican.  He’ll suffer from the pundit class constantly asking, “Does he have the fire in the belly?” before settling for a Cabinet role.

Andrew Cuomo – His last name is familiar because his dad gave a really well-received speech once.  In the end, he will do whatever Bill Clinton tells him to do.

That’s it for the Dems.  The Obama Wave has not created a deep bench of future stars in his party, and since the battle for the White House is a battle of personalities above all, that should give the GOP some hope for 2016.  

2008 was a good year to be on the ground in New Hampshire since both parties were fielding dozens of possibilities.  2016 should be more of the same.  

“Hello, Manchester Radisson?  I’d like to make a reservation for October 2015 please.”

Friday, December 7, 2012

The Island of Misfit Pols



Last night, I had a horrible nightmare.  It is a lesson to me that I should never watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before getting into bed, and then read the latest political news before turning out the lights.  That combination is a recipe for horror.  It could have been the chips and salsa after 11 PM.  I think that late night dietary choice digitally enhanced the dream, and not in a good way. 

As my dream began, I found myself in a winter wonderland.  In my mind, I had just escaped from the angry rhetoric of the Abominable Snow Job that had blown in from the Right, and I was looking for a way back to Reality.  I was wearing pajamas and I could fly, but that’s standard operating procedure for my dreams.

Through the white conditions, I was able to spy several older white men in suits wandering aimlessly across the barren landscape.  I stopped one of the men.

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

The white man looked up at me with sad eyes and said, “We are all here because no one will be played by us anymore.  We have been cast out of Reality by an Electorate that no longer has use for us.  We are trapped here.”

“But where is here?” I asked.

“Why, you are on the Island of Misfit Pols.  This is where political operatives, pundits and candidates come to wait for someone to love us again.”  He gestured towards the other wandering white men.  “Our view of Reality is defective but if the Electorate would give us a second chance…”  His voice trailed off.

“That’s so sad,” I replied.  “You don’t look defective, at least on the outside.  What’s your name?”

The first one spoke.  “I’m Karl Rove.  I’m a paid political consultant…whose clients always lose.”  I knew he looked familiar. 

“That IS a defect,” I thought to myself.  The others chimed in with their own introductions.

“I’m Dick Morris.  I’m a political commentator on TV…who can’t understand polling data.”

“I’m George W. Bush.  I’m a former President…whose name cannot be mentioned at his party’s national convention!”

“I’m Rep. Tom Cole.  I’m a Republican…who advocated cutting a tax deal with the White House.”

“I’m Rep. Tim Huelskamp and this is and Rep. Justin Amash.  We’re Republicans in Congress…but without committee assignments anymore!”

“I’m Tommy Muller.  Remember?  We were in elementary school together.”  He is a featured character in many of my dreams.  I can’t explain it.

Then they spoke in one voice.  “We’re prisoners on the Island of Misfit Pols.”

This was getting weird, even for a dream.

“Well, good luck, older white guys.  I don’t belong here.  I may be white, but I’m not older and my view of Reality is not defective.  In fact, I’m heading back home to Reality as soon as I can,” I told the group.  Being around Dick Morris was making me uncomfortable.  And there was a weird looking Jack-in-the-Box and a train with square wheels that kept staring at me.  I had to get out of there.

“Take us with you!” they begged.  “We need to be loved again!  If they could do a Fox News special on us, it might validate our delusional thinking.  We’re sure the Electorate would come around to our points of view and overlook our defects!”

I must be dreaming, I thought, because I felt some momentary pity for these outcasts.

“I’ll tell the Electorate your story and maybe they’ll stop by before the next election cycle to get you out of here.  After all, some parts of the Electorate might love to have a defective pol of their own.”  Then I stepped on to a piece of floating ice that had broken away from the polar cap due to the rising global temperatures of my dreamscape and began my journey back to Reality, a place where these misfits didn’t belong.

As I drifted away from the misfits, I was filled with dread.  Reality was just beyond the horizon.  It’s where I live, but it can be a scary place, even if your views are not defective.

I woke up in a cold sweat clutching my dog-eared copy of Bill Maher’s More New Rules tightly to my chest.  I turned on the TV and saw a featured story that Karl Rove and Dick Morris had been given an involuntary vacation from Fox programming, and that 4 Republican representatives had lost their committee assignments in what was being called the Great Conservative Purge.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all.  Maybe the Island of Misfit Pols exists.  One can only hope.



Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Fiscal Cliff for Dummies

Sometimes the only way to explain how Washington works is to rely on my Explainer-in-Chief, Bugs Bunny.  He presents the simplest analogy for the ongoing fiscal cliff discussions.  Enjoy.


Bugs aficionados will remember the closing few seconds, unfortunately omitted from the clip.  As Sam falls, Bugs races to the bottom of the valley and throws a mattress on the ground, supposedly to break the fall for poor Sam.  Bugs then says, "You know, sometimes my conscience kinda bothers me...but not this time!" as he pulls the mattress out of the way and allows Sam to crash into the ground. 

Pretty sure that's how Obama feels right about now.

The War on Kwanzaa



Lost in all the annual noise surrounding the godless assault on the Christian celebration of Christmas is the silent war being waged against minority faiths across this self-proclaimed exceptional land.  Slowly but surely, the B-List holidays are being purged from December lesson plans in our government sponsored elementary schools.  This year, we might have gone too far.  This year, the magic of Kwanzaa season will go unrecognized in our local classrooms.

I learned this week that Fairfax County Virginia public schools have quietly dropped the recognition of Kwanzaa as a holiday this year.  Apparently a legacy of 2 U.S. Postal Service stamps in its honor was not enough to save it.  Kwanzaa instruction has been cancelled due to lack of interest.  

Now thousands of local Kwanzaan children will cry themselves to sleep wondering if they will receive any presents on January 1st at the end of the 7 day observance.  These Kwanzaa believers will come to school filled with shame that the decade’s long heritage of their feast will no longer be taught to their Christian and Muslim friends.  The holiday is being left to whither on the vine without government support.  Its preservation as a holiday has been outsourced to families already struggling to teach their kids proper hygiene and respectful manners.  How will the Kwanzaa tradition survive?

Kwanzaa is not the first holiday to be dropped by the centralized planners in county government.  Kwanzaa joins the celebrations of St. Lucia Day (December 13th) and the Feast of St. Nicholas (December 6th) on the dustbin of religious history, having been unceremoniously eliminated as recognized celebrations in Fairfax County schools.  Religious freedom truly is under assault!  If immigrants from St. Lucia can be treated this way, if their holiday can be stricken from the books by government fiat, how long will it be before green trees with twinkling winter solstice decorations are banned from the public square? 
 
When one faith is marginalized, we are all marginalized.  Who will fight for Kwanzaa?

There is good news for those of the Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Hindu faiths.  Your holidays are still on the public school menu in 2012.  Yes, the kids can learn traditional Muslim Eid songs and Hindi Diwali dances and Jewish Hanukkah games instead of math and science for a few weeks in December.  Christians can enjoy a passing reference to a baby being born in a stable.  For proper Kwanzaa training, you’ll have to pick that up on the streets.  

So farewell Kwanzaa lesson plans.  Good bye indoctrination classes on the seven core principles (known as Nguzo Saba) of unity, self-determination, collective work and responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity, and faith (sounds like a Democratic fundraiser seminar agenda).  How will the children come to know and appreciate the divine vision of Maulana Karenga, the inventor of Kwanzaa?  How will we spread a reverent appreciation of the decorative Kwanzaa mat?  We must hope for private enterprise to pick up the slack. 

Kwanzaa-ians (or Kwanzaa-ites) – I feel your pain.  My preferred holiday has never been included in the annual public school list of acceptable celebrations.  I’ll have to homeschool my kids about Festivus and the Feats of Strength without the structure and the tactic approval of my government-run educational system.  As long as I have breath, there’ll be a Festivus for the rest of us.  

Goodnight, Kwanzaa.  We hardly knew ya.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Middle Earth



We arrived at church right on time, which is to say the congregation was already up and singing but we hadn’t missed any required sacred rituals or mandatory opening prayers.  Granted, we were cutting it close but that’s part of the thrill of going to church.  How late can you leave the house and still have derriere in the chair-iere without missing the Good News?  I ignored the disapproving look of the usher as we brushed by.  In the eyes of the Lord, we made it on time.

Arriving without time to spare also means there are only two seating options remaining.  One option is the front row, purgatory on Earth, and an untenable position for someone like me who has been known to make a furrowed face during parts of the sermon with which I respectfully disagree.   That leaves only the second option – the middle of a pew.   To reach the middle, we must push past the faithful who cannot be inconvenienced by sliding over.  After all, as their eyes make clear to us, they were here first and to the victor go the spoils – an end seat. 

Just like on an airplane, the aisle seats are gone first, then the window.  The middle seats are the last resort.  Once on the end of a row in church, that real estate must be protected at all costs.  Pushing to the middle to accommodate the latecomers (we WERE on time) means sacrificing one of the key benefits to arriving early – a quick escape at the end of mass.  You’ve got to beat the traffic.  Getting stuck in a post-services traffic jam can lead to the occasion of sinful thoughts against thy neighbor and must be avoided at all costs.  This rationale justifies the aisle sitter’s decision to act in an unChrist-like manner and not slide over for fellow worshippers.

Grabbing the end seat is more than the dream of a quick exit after church.  People don’t like being in the middle of anything really.  How many times have we said, “Hey, I’m not getting in the middle of THAT!”?  The middle is for losers and as Americans, we’re not losers.  We’re exceptional. 

The middle is an uncomfortable place.  It’s a fight for the arm rest.  It’s a chance to breath in germs from either side of us.  It’s the mental anguish of knowing that a trip to the bathroom means surviving the trip over the legs of our neighbors all the way across the row.  It’s called a ‘trip’ for a reason.

Being in the middle is claustrophobic.  This is why I don’t want to live in the middle of the United States.  I have always contended that I will remain on the East Coast because I need to be near an exit, just in case.  The East Coast is North America’s aisle seat and I like the extra leg room the Atlantic Ocean affords me.

The older we get, the more we worry about our middle.  We want less middle, not more, and preferably in 8 minutes or less.  No one wants to look like the meaty part of the bell shaped curve when standing in profile. 
    
Being in the middle is the most dangerous for small animals.  For the hyperactive squirrel, nothing is worse than being stuck in the middle of the road.  At that frozen moment in time when he stares into your soul from his pavement perch, there is nowhere he’d rather be than on one extreme side of the street or the other.  The middle is a death sentence for the squirrel.

The middle of the road no longer exists in politics, at least not for successful politicians, defined as those who win elections these days.  Spending too much time in the middle can be a death sentence for a political career unfortunately.  It’s the fast track to being ‘primaried’ and run out of town.

The middle is also where compromise lives.  The middle is where decisions are made.  Yes, action gets driven from the left or the right but to survive, we need the middle.

As we approach the fiscal cliff, remember that there is national salvation in the middle, just as there is salvation available to those in the middle of the pew.  So next time I show up at the top of your aisle with my family, slide over.  The view from the middle isn’t so bad and we can live together in harmony.   It’s the Christian thing to do.
  
As a compromise, I’ll try to leave the house a little bit sooner.