Observation from a Letter

Sometimes I wonder if communication between individuals is possible at all; if the thing done or the thing said is ever the same as the thing felt or the thing heard. I usually dismiss this notion as cynical and counterproductive, yet can find little definitive evidence to back up my optimism. I do know one thing, however: the greatest barriers between people are the ones they themselves erect. Attitude does more to separate one mind from another than any other type of estrangement.

Anchor Under Fire

Next on DATELINE NBC

Anchorman Brian Williams reminiscences with Katie Couric about his time in the Marines.

According to Williams, he's on the far right hand side with his back to the camera. . .

Merry Christmas with a Non-Archaic Pronounciation

Merry Xmas, Everybody!

"He knows when you are sleeping.

He knows when you're on the can.

He'll hunt you down and blast your ass

From here to Pakistan.

So. . .

You better not breath.

You batter not move.

You're better off dead,

I'm telling you, dude.

Santa Claus is gunning you down!"

Albert And Bill

Fat Albert confesses to tabloid: "Bill Cosby raped me after spiking my jello pudding and coke with roofies!" Says a distraught Albert: "I went to the police, hey, hey, hey and they told me cartoon characters couldn't press criminal charges against celebrities, hey, hey, hey. I hid my pain with food, food, and more food. Unfortunately, my favorite snack was jello pudding and coke." 

Friends Rudy, Russell, and Dumb Donald later confirmed the former child star's stories of gang violence and sexual exploitation and added some shocking details: "We all h-ha-hated playing n-na-naked b-ba-buckbuck with b-ba-Bill. He cl-cle-clearly had a th-thi-thing for f-fa-fat boys. Albert n-na-naturally took the l-li-lion's share of the a-ab-abuse."

Licence to kill

There is no excuse for shooting and killing an unarmed man, whatever his age, color, physical size, or legal priors. None. Period. The police must be held responsible for their actions. It has nothing to do with race. It is strictly a matter of public policy. Anyone who would argue otherwise is letting their prejudices and paranoia cloud their reasoning. A badge does not give one carte blanc to bully, harass, or control those you've supposedly sworn to protect. Darren Wilson was largely responsible for the situation in which he found himself. According to his own testimony, he was presented with numerous opportunities to calm a developing conflict and time and time again chose instead to throw gasoline on the proverbial fire. Those are the facts, my friend, and they are as straight as a line from point A to point B. No one needed to die in Ferguson. If he's an not-and-out murderer, he's at least a bad cop and should be off the street. His incompetence ultimately cost a life. A trained professional should be held to a higher standard of behavior than a stupid kid with a chip on his shoulder. If former officer Wilson is currently unemployed, it's his own damn fault. I don't hate the man, honestly, but I don't feel sorry for him either.

And, I may add, I have no idea how any of this could possibly be connected to mid-east terrorist groups or legalized abortion except within the disarranged mind of a confirmed conspiracy theorist. Let's get our mental ducks in a row, people, and focus on one subject at a time. The militarizing of local police units is a problem born of both the war on terror and the polarization of economic class and ethnic identity in American politics. Both corporation power and class privilege are effectively guarded by the institutionally accepted right of the police to maim, injure or kill anyone of their choosing without a realistic fear of prosecution, punishment or official public censure. In a perfect world, people behave properly because it's the right thing to do. In the real world, people must be held accountable for their actions; especially those actions performed in the name of the community. Public servants should serve the public and not themselves or their own small group. The job of law enforcement is not to terrorize, rob or control the local population, but to secure property, protect life and assist those in need. In a democracy, public empowerment goes hand in hand with personal responsibility.

Failure to punish the abuse of police power is a license for continued abuse. Law enforcement officials -- being human and fallible -- will inevitably do whatever they are allowed to get away by the the public and their elected representatives. Unless limited by both statute and the desire to enforce statute, the quest for personal power and the desire for group solidarity will almost always trump the public good. In any court room, the most dishonest and dangerous individuals are, more times than not, those representing the state. The more repressive a society, the larger its prison population. Physical control replaces justice as the motivating factor in all interactions between those in power and those in peril. Police states are created out of desperation and maintained out of fear. And the number of petty criminal offenses currently dealt with on a draconian level by federal and state courts is a clear sign of the direction the country is drifting. Darren Wilson isn't the cause of the decline in American jurisprudence, but a symptom of a deeper, more distressing malady now infecting the body politic. His removal -- and the removal of those like him -- is but a first step in the reformation of American democracy.

Wiass

Wisdom is a saxophone solo. . .

Author's Dossier

I write in spurts. When light creeps in through the edges of shroud covered windows. And doors bolted on the inside pop open for a infinitesimally brief instant. I write in spurts.

I write in haste. When a word left unspoken might be lost forever. And a thought left unexpressed will stick in my heart like a rush of clean water in a rusty pipe. I write in haste.

I write in delight. When the muse of occasion engulfs my brain in fragrant fire. And the impulse to move becomes slightly greater than the usual clarion call to inertia. I write in delight.

I write in hope. When the spirit moves me to song, but my voice gets stuck in my throat. And the disparaging parts of me unite to create something beautiful or unique. I write in hope.