I started earning my own money in the first grade. Me and my little buddy David, my best bud back then, decided we could get rich shoveling driveways and sidewalks. By springtime David and I were starting to like having a little money so we expanded our operations to mowing yards. My dad said that as long as we kept oil and gas in the mower we were welcome to use it. It felt like we had been given the keys to the financial kingdom of our dreams. I liked David because he was a quiet kid who laughed like crazy at every one of my stupid jokes and he never stole anything from me. David liked me because I didn’t make fun of him and didn’t let other kids beat him up when I was around.  

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I remember when my first child was born. It was a Sunday evening in October, and because the staff that night was short handed there were only two nurses on the floor, and one doctor on call.  For the sake of brevity I’ll spare you all but one of the details of that night. My repeated requests for somebody to come to our room and help were ignored because the “professionals” knew that it just couldn’t be happening so quickly. Even a childbirth noob like me knew what a head popping out of that magical place meant, time for action!

I ended up catching my own daughter as she launched herself into this new place of being and straight into my heart. The nurses showed up several minutes later with bemused looks, and I remember one said loudly, “Holy Shit! You weren’t kidding!” The usual frenzy of delivery room antics followed, and once completed I spent every minute of the next 24 hours either holding or staring at this amazing new perfect little person as I was so immediately and completely in love. I knew instantly that I would do anything for her. No matter the cost, no matter the risks, I was going to give her a good life. I was going to protect her. I’m sure these are the thoughts of all new Fathers, and those of us blessed to have been born in developed countries have a damn good shot at making those dreams a reality. But suppose your child isn’t born “perfect”, and that “imperfection” will lead to a lifetime of isolation and cultural shame for your child unless corrected. You have no resources, none.

Now what?

Crossposted Sunday May 25 at Big Orange

On  December 12, 2000 the United States Supreme Court ruled that the Florida Supreme Court’s plan for recounting Florida’s ballots was unacceptable, and that no constitutionally valid recount could timely be completed by the December 12 deadline. This decision ended the recounts, and effectively installed the loser of the popular vote as President of the United States of America. The vote was certified according to Florida state election law by Katherine Harris, the Republican Secretary of State who had been the Florida co-chair of Bush’s campaign. Bush’s younger brother, Jeb Bush, was the governor of Florida. Though it was obvious to all that Harris and Jeb Bush had manipulated the election to favor the governor’s brother, it was too little, too late. Gore was eventually found to have won Florida by 543,895 more popular votes than Bush.

Below the fold is a graphic account of the tragedy and legacy of the worst president in history.

Here is the first paragraph from the official  Overview of Homelessness  page from the United States Department of Veteran Affairs.

About one-third of the adult homeless population have served their country in the Armed Services. Current population estimates suggest that about 154,000 veterans (male and female) are homeless on any given night and perhaps twice as many experience homelessness at some point during the course of a year. Many other veterans are considered near homeless or at risk because of their poverty, lack of support from family and friends, and dismal living conditions in cheap hotels or in overcrowded or substandard housing.

Estimates from other sources vary but the general consensus is between 150,000 and  250,000.

I have noticed that in the last year under the Bush administration they have  steadily lowered the official number. Go figure.

Hello fellow Dharmaniacs, just wanted to share a story that happned to me today at work.

Cross posted at the Big Orange Menace                      

I live in a bright red district in a overall blue state. Racism is alive and well in this city. There is a clear line dividing the west side made up of mostly African Americans, the east side made up of whites, and the old down town middle district, which is mostly Latino. You don’t even have to live here to know the divide, just drive across town east to west and see who’s about, it’s that clear. It’s still possible here to go for years without contact with person of color, and many do just that.

I work with a guy who for all the 20 years I’ve know him has been the prototypical Limbaugh, O’Reilly loving wingnut.

I have a short story about this man and how he will vote in this election, and WHY.