Turn The Volume On Anyway

I've been learning to live without you now
but I miss you sometimes
the more I know, the less I understand
all the things I thought I knew
I'm learning them again

I've gotten a few emails about my lack of posts.
I'm in a bad mood. I hate missing...him.
I've got too much crap in my brain and its all clogged up.
Nothing happens fingers to keys.
Wont last forever, but could be longer than I'd like.
Peace- I'm taking a break.

The Holiday Call

Erin and I call each other on holidays. Every holiday- big or small. It began when I got perturbed with her one year, pre-holiday, when I wanted to talk about some "Amazing Grace" topic and she was being an atheist downer bootie-head.

Well, I'll show her.

Fast forward to Easter. Easter isn't a big one for her. The whole "The third day he rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven..." Apostle's Creed thing just doesn't jive in her mind. Who can blame her? She's Catholic. But even still, I called her an announced in my best mad scientist impersonation,

"He's aaaaaliiiive!"

With my usual celebratory "Risen Christ" Easter attitude, I assured her that she could breathe a little easier because I had officially prayed her way into Heaven. She was most gracious and, of course, thanked me profusely.

I also find it terribly fun to try to interrupt her in the middle of a holiday family event. Particularly those that involve extended family. My fantasy is to call Erin right when she sits down at the Christmas dinner table and butt in with a loud, obnoxious cell phone ring. I would bust into the most operatic version of "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" I could muster. And she'd have to sit through the whole thing with me on speaker phone! Delicious! The very thought makes me giddy.

One year she answered on Christmas Eve (she gets two phone calls around then- Christmas Eve and Christmas Day) and she said in a hushed voice "We're about to eat- cant chat- call you back." I said a quick "Ok, bye." in a similar whisper and set the phone down with an evil gleam of twisted satisfaction in my eye.

Sooooooo close.

The beauty of Erin and I is two fold: we often disagree and we like it that way. I'm a Jesus Freak and she's atheist. She's a vegetarian and I crave rare cow butt. I like Tupac and Madonna, Erin heads for the indie labels. She assures me that some men really are good in bed. I lament having to waste the 15 minutes it takes the men I've pulled out from under the rocks. And there is little to no chance of changing either one of our minds about most topics. Even if we act like we might in conversation with you...nooo...we're just hoping if we give you a few head nods you'll shut the fuck up.

Ok, so neither of us are really that extreme. No, really, we're very open minded. I happily cook vegetarian dishes regularly, will conceded that the Virgin Birth aint all the probable, and In still have hope for the brother's, if you know what I mean. Erin would agree that humans may never fully understand the concept of existence in all its glory- while happily listening to my rendering of Man in the Mirror, by Michael Jackson. Stoned, I'm a rockstar.

This Thanksgiving, as with all holidays, I am thankful for my Erin, in whatever extreme she can bring. In fact...I might even try the tofurkey.

Frickin' Google

It seems if you google Duncan Hunter and/or California 52 Congressional District my last post will eventually pop up. More than a few of these surfers are Dumb Duncan Fans and have taken me up on my offer in the November 19th post:

Dear California's 52 Congressional District,

I know you've voted Duncan Hunter into Congress since 1981. And I know he's retiring now and that his son Duncan D. Hunter is hot on his father's coattails. And yes, Duncan D. is a Marine. And yes, you've got a lot of drug crime and maybe you think that he's the man for the job.

He isn't. He's wrong. Scary wrong. He's so wrong that I can't even begin to touch on it here. But I promise- if you write me, I will answer. And not in my typical wild curse-word laden manner. I'll send you the emails and blog pages of really smart people- I mean super smart people. Much smarter than me. Obviously, I have an agenda. But if you believe nothing else- believe that so does Duncan D. Hunter.
Get both sides. At the very least, you'll know your opposition even better.

Dont Be Doop'd,
DEE DEE YEE

Well, I came through. And after 47 emails, forwarding them on and having them thoroughly anwsered (like 10 page Law Review anwsered), I have decided to suspend my offer. My super smart politico friends are tired (and really busy as most super smart people are). I am too embarressed to ask for any more anwsers because, afterall, they get paid to think. I'm begging for freebies over here, know what I'm sayin'?

Thanks to Ben. Thanks King. Thanks JennyBenny.
Drinks on me.

The Brookings Institute in Washington D.C. is one of the oldest and most prominent private research institutions in the United States. The scholars of Brookings devote thier lives to the art of thought and logic. They're some of the smartest think-tank motherfuckers I have ever had the pleasure of calling friends. They give us all hope. http://www.brookings.edu/

Duncan Hunter

Could Obama bring down the militarys dumb-dumb Dont Ask/Dont Tell policy? Could The Man liberate our gay and lesbian troops?

(Dude- did you catch that? I just referred to a black man as "The Man". There are so many firsts in this administration is down-right silly!!)

So if Obama is our Great Black Hope...then who's the Evil Do'er, you ask? I'll tell you:

Duncan Hunter

Ranking Member of the House Armed Services Committee

This is what DumbDumb Duncan had to say on 60Minutes on Sunday:

We aren't the Brits. We're not the Europeans. We're not the Swedes. The Fallujahs of the world, the Ramadis of the world that require heavy combat and lots of fire-fighting capability- those are the places Americans go. The other countries tend to go to the so-called peacekeeper zones, where they have fewer fire fights and less contact with the enemy. And the European nations show little will to send large contingents of their military people into dangerous places.

With the Pentagon now making its recruiting goals, would we risk with doing
away with this system that works, where American families sit around the dinner
table and they make a decision that their young man or their young woman is
going to go into this military because they share the values of that military.
Or should we experiment at a time when our military is totally volunteer, when
it's extremely capable and perhaps lose that capability and perhaps lose those
number Perhaps lose those re-enlistments and perhaps lose that
effectiveness.

Duncan Hunter. Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. *tsk* *tsk* Duncan. Finger-wag, finger-wag! Your in time out. Go to the naughty chair! Your grounded! INDEFINITELY.
Richard Simmons will be upstairs momentarily to give you a spanking.

Dear Dumb Fucking Duncan,

I'll work backwards.

A) The Pentagon's making their recruitment goals?

In 2006 the Army had to start issuing waivers to convicted felons, lower their mental and physical standards, double their enlistment bonus and triple their reenlistment bonus. Congratulations! The Pentagon made the cut!

Too bad none of their new recruits could.

B) American families sitting around the dinner table to discuss whether or not their children should serve in the Armed Forces?

Uhmmm...Someones been watching a few too many Leave It To Beaver re-runs. That quintessential 1950's family is legend. A cultural myth. It never existed. It was someones idea of ideal and people tried to achieve it....

Think "supermodel thin" and teenage eating disorders. Like that.

C) You think Peacekeeping Zones are for pussies, eh?

I got idea!! Ship your fat fucking ass to Darfur. No? Dont want to go? How about the Congo? I hear the Tche Refugee Camp's got a great feeding program. Still not good? You like Lebanon? The Hezbollah guerrillas are sure to say "Hi". Afghanistan's got a good NATO Peacekeeping force. I'm sure you could get in there.

Oh, please pick Darfur! Pretty, pretty please!?

D) We're not the Brits? Not Europeans? Swiss?

Did you just say that? DID YOU seriously just insult an ENTIRE FUCKING CONTINENT AND THEIR MILITARYS?

Dear California's 52 Congressional District,

I know you've voted Duncan Hunter into Congress since 1981. And I know he's retiring now and that his son Duncan D. Hunter is hot on his father's coattails. And yes, Duncan D. is a Marine. I know you've got a lot of drug crime and maybe you think that he's the man for the job.

He isn't. He's wrong. Scary wrong. He's so wrong that I can't even begin to touch on it here. But I promise- if you write me, I will answer. And not in my typical wild curse-word laden manner. I'll send you the emails and blog pages of really smart people- I mean super smart people. Much smarter than me.

Obviously, I have an agenda. But if you believe nothing else- believe that so does Duncan D. Hunter.

Get both sides. At the very least, you'll know your opposition even better.

Check out Family Day: A National Day To Eat Dinner With Your Children. http://casafamilyday.org/familyday/

Miss Lilian

Lilian is a mighty three. If you ask her how old she is she will violently shove three little fingers in the air, lock eyes with you and give a millitant "and thats the way it is" nod of her head.




Lilian attends a small, private inclusive school for average-abled and deaf children just outside Washington D.C. There are plenty of other deaf children there, but even still, you can spot Lilian immediately in the crowd. Her clothes are hand me downs from her four foster sisters and her hair was recently chopped (quite hapazardly in my opinion) due to a stubborn case of lice. Amoungst the hip little District kiddies, Lilian is a bit...rough around the edges, shall I say?

Her tuition is split between two deaf women, and two deaf men, who live in Washington D.C. As her foster mother puts it- her "fancy pants" school would never be possible on the small government check she recieves for caring for Lilian.

As her foster mother gripes about money, Lilian is reading the big people's lips and is quick to remind her foster mother that she doesn't have any "fancy pants". Lilian's fingers thrust in the air: "No pretty pants on Lilian!" And although her foster mother doesn't know ASL, she has a good idea that Lilian had a "smart-mouth-sign" and returns Lilian's icy stare with your-about-to-get-time-out eyebrows. Its do-or-die body language in Lilian's house.

Your probably wondering how all this happened to Lilian. To be frank, the first 4 months of Lil's life would make any of us want to crawl back to God and ask for a reassignment. Within moments of her first breath, she got ditched. Her hearing loss is most likely the result of exposure. How fucked does that sound, eh? Trust me, the sign for it is even worse.

If you ask her "You deaf? You hearing?"- a common question in "mixed" company- she will give you a small, sly smile. She's not sure what this "hearing" thing is yet, but she suspects its a trick question- or one of those questions growups ask children just to see if they know the awnser. Either way- she's annoyed. I watch her eyes sink deep and her fingers sign rapidly by her side, in no particular word order. She's thinking of how to outsmart me.

I wait patiently until she responds: "What hear do, I don't know? But I know I Lilian, Big Girl!"

I'm happy to say that I know Lilian, Big Girl, too.

We Won.

"For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard." Baldwin, 1965

James Baldwin (1924-1987) was a queer, black American author and civil rights activist who treked the minefield of the human rights race with "an elequence to inspire a nation"*.

His book-length essay, No Name In The Street, is a moving account of his experiences through the assassinations and mourning of his three friends Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

I guarantee he'll make you say "wow" more than once.

*Maya Angelou