Liberty Drip

No, not the lockdown. In some ways, that will never end without a serious uprising, and when I say serious, I'm talking about the real people in the world, not the basement-dwelling Ivy League commies pooping in the streets of Portland. But I digress. I mean, when are we going to cancel the cancel culture? Every day we hear more stories about a celebrity or a CEO or even some poor schmuck being cancelled because of something he said or did a lifetime ago. A museum curator was fired for saying he would collect the works of white painters. He didn't say he would exclusively collect white painters, he mentioned that he would buy Caucasian canvases in addition to the works of oppressed minorities. That's it. His crime was to say he would do what the Cancel Commandos claim to want to do: include all people regardless of race or whatever other labels these no-labels hypocrites stick on people. I have to wonder if anyone has really looked into who the cancelers are. I wonder if th...

There is more than one way to burn a book. - Ray Bradbury I recently listened to a conversation between authors Michael Chabon and Neil Gaiman. The talk eventually turned to the issue of banned books. Chabon asked Gaiman if he'd ever had a book banned. Gaiman said he nearly did. Where did this happen? In America.  Of course. The land of the free. Sad how we take that freedom and waste it on ignorance. Gaiman explained that the uproar was over a book he'd contributed a short story to. He had written a story based upon a gruesome Old Testament passage. The religious wrong right wanted the book banned. He, of course fought it. Eventually, the wrong right relented and the book was not banned. What changed their mind? Someone actually took the time to read the bible passage. Gaiman's story was faithful to the source material. I have always been amazed that there is such a thing as a banned book anywhere in the world but particularly that such a thing would exist in the United St...

July 18, 2020 Last night, during the July Executive Committee meeting, I lost my temper. Twice. I’m not writing this letter to try to justify my behavior. I’m old enough to know better. I should not have yelled. I should not have cursed. I should not have left the meeting. Well, maybe I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I want to apologize for losing my temper.  There, now that that’s out of the way, I want to address the issues that set me off. But first, a little history... I became involved in national and local politics seventeen years ago. I volunteered for the Bush campaign. I worked for local republican campaigns. I worked for several republican organizations. I learned a lot during those years. I learned that my beliefs are not in line with he republican philosophy, particularly with how it is now interpreted. I also learned how an effective political organization is run. I witnessed this operational efficiency, par excellence, at the county level, and at the ci...

We all want to be heroes. I can remember being a kid and imagining I was Batman or Spiderman. Even at this age, I dream of being brave and strong and indestructible. The thing is, even if I was those things, that wouldn't make me a hero. There was a time when being a hero meant something. It wasn't too long ago. But the title means little now. Everyone is a hero. All you have to do is donate blood or wear a mask or rat out a neighbor who is barbecuing without a permit or not wearing a mask. A few months ago, I was ratted out at my local grocery store for not wearing a mask. Did the person who ran to the manager to snitch on me earn the title of Hero? Of course not. There was no risk and no good deed was performed. All there was, was an individual who wants to feel good about himself pointing a finger at someone who wasn't marching along with the parade. Years ago, it was recycling that made you a hero. Commercials make heroes out of moms who make a sandwich for their kids. ...

I arrived at the airport in Bozeman, Montana. I check in. I go through security and the surgical metal in my right knee gets picked up by the machine. A man touches me. I’m part of a group of eighteen travelers, thirteen of which are teenagers, two of which are my daughters. I am not wearing shoes. I turn and a female TSA agent is about to touch my daughter. I rush up to make my presence known. My daughter is fourteen years old. We move on to the next indignity. I am called aside. They ask questions about my wife’s carry-on. There are a lot of things in there. Are they all mine? No, they are for five of the people in the party.  The guard is particularly focused on a small jar of huckleberry jam. (Yes, huckleberry is a real thing and it is delicious.) It’s wrapped tight in bubble wrap and she can’t get it open. I tell her to use the scissors if she has to. She does. Sure enough, huckleberry. I videoed the violation of my privacy. I repack my bags. I am in a bad mood and I still hav...

I had to walk into my bank today to have a document notarized. Good thing I made an appointment. The other customer who was there, like me, at one minute before opening time was not so lucky. She was sent away. She would have been the second customer in the branch. I’m not sure if the bank would have gotten in trouble for letting her in, but I did hear the banker tell her she was not allowed into the branch without an appointment. She had the mask. It matched her outfit. Bless her heart. I asked if I would need an appointment to access my safe deposit box. The banker said no, just walk right in. I don’t have a safe deposit box there but I’m glad exceptions to the rules of stupid can be made.   We are still being told by the guessers in charge that we should maintain social distancing, not shake hands and not go inside some places or outside anywhere. Unless you want to protest your local police, in which case, get out there! I wonder why many states and the federal government, who ...

I was in the third grade the first time someone called me a Cuban and meant it as an insult. One of my classmates showed up to class with two broken arms and no front teeth. He’d been in an ATC accident. In case you don’t know, ATC stands for All-Terrain Cycle. They were similar to the big four-wheeled ATVs that are popular today but had only three wheels. They were tricycles on steroids. They became illegal at some point because people were getting hurt. Thank you, Big Brother, for always keeping us safe. I asked the kid if he fell and he said, “I ain’t no Cuban. I flipped!”  To which I replied, “At least I have all my teeth and both my arms.” This kid was a jerk. He and I would continue to have run-ins throughout the rest of the elementary years. I don’t think I ever saw him again after that. I sure hope his teeth grew back. My junior high (middle school to you youngsters) was a private school in a predominately black section of Dade County known as Carol City. Most of the kids i...