Cry Havoc

As a man who is not native to yet still considers Minnesota his home, there are many things about this state that I like.

Obviously, there are the lakes. A body of water's rarely that far away when you live in the Land of 10,000 of 'em. My introvert's dream-come-true would be to buy a nice little hidden-away cabin by a secluded beautiful lake where I could read or write to my soul's content. Just thinking about it relaxes me. And, for a while, I can even believe I could live the rest of my life in such a cabin...that is, until I remember I'm married to an extrovert. So the cabin would probably end up being a summer thing. But that's alright, too.

Then there are the seasons. I like to see variation in mine and Minnesota delivers in this regard. Summers can get hot and winters definitely get cold. Plus, I usually see a lot of snow, although not nearly as much as I did when I lived in Syracuse.

And the list goes on. However, there are some thing I don't like so much about this state. The bugs. Well, one bug specifically. I can tolerate most bugs just fine; I grew up in the South and saw bugs there I haven't seen anywhere else. Fuzzy red and black ants I learned not to get too close to, for example. Then, of course, there were the cockroaches. I've seen teeny, tiny ones, great big ones, black ones, brown ones, flying ones. The common sentiment is that in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse, roaches would be the sole survivors as the fittest of all species.

Now that might be true, but I have my doubts. I've never seen a cockroach in Minnesota, so I question whether they could even survive a winter here, let alone a nuclear holocaust.

But there is one bug I've became well-acquainted with over the years and I think it might just give the cockroach a run for its money. It loves trees and is, in fact named for one, but also likes to branch out and go places it hasn't been invited.

The Box Elder Bug is small, winged, reproduces like a rabbit in heat, and they're everywhere I don't want them to be. They like heat, the sun, clinging to surfaces that are exposed to heat and/or sun and fellowshipping with one another in great, massive, orgiastic clumps.

Box Elder Bugs are relatively harmless as bugs go; they don't bite, sting, eat anything indoors, and only reproduce outside. They're also easy to kill. Yet they are a nuisance because if they can find a way into a house- my house- they will take it. And for every one I successfully subtract from my the world, there's another and another and another itching to fill the void. Every year around this time, I can count on two things: my allergies will vigorously renew my dislike of early Spring and the Box Elder Bugs will renew my dislike of winged, flying bugs.

I used to try to eradicate them both outdoors and in, but it has become exceedingly difficult with two indoor dogs and two indoor cats. Also, no matter how much I might wish it, I simply can't eliminate the world's trees. In recent seasons, though, we've reached a kind of detente: I only take up arms against them when I finally get tired of seeing them in the house and they do their best to keep their home invasion numbers in the single digits for as long as they can so I get to the point where I feel compelled to do something about them later rather than sooner.

It's a futile fight in many respects because we both know that they'll- like the Governator himself- be back, more determined than ever.

But I think it might finally be time to let slip the dogs of...

Sorry. I had to squash one just now.

Yes, I definitely foresee a trip to my friendly neighborhood Target in the very near future.

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Sticking Points

     It's no secret that I have a wonky memory.  Some things- usually nerdy, school or trivia stuff- I remember quite clearly.  But there are also whole swaths of childhood (up to and including portions of my teens) that have been ripped from recollection.  My sister likens my brain functions to a Windows OS.  She is not giving me a compliment.  She believes I have either taken those memories and password protected them, placed them in the Recycle Bin or allowed them to become corrupted.  Unfortunately, I either don’t remember the password, have chosen to 'Empty Trash', or do not know how to defrag my mental hard drive.
 
     There are a few things I do remember, though, some things that are able to rise above the haze of time to become visible again.  Here's one such memory:

     When I was 15, I said the 'N' word.  Out loud.  Here's the backstory.  I'd recently seen the movie, "Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon" for the umpteenth time.  For those of you not in the know, imdb.com describes the plot of the movie in this way: A young man searches for the "master" to obtain the final level of martial arts mastery known as The Glow. Along the way he must fight an evil martial arts expert and rescue a beautiful singer from an obsessed music promoter.

     Yes, it was a cheesy movie.  Yes, it suffered from poor writing and laughable special effects.  But it was about a kid learning the martial arts, so it automatically received cool points with me.  And it had Vanity in it.  Prince's Vanity from Vanity 6 and she was indeed beautiful.  I watched that movie again and again and loved it in a way that makes me cringe today.

     The nemesis, of course, had a catchphrase:  "N-, please".  The "N-" being the "N" word, spoken in a manner consistent with how rappers use it today.  I suppose I should point out- though it really shouldn’t matter- that the nemesis was Black, as was the young man in search of The Glow.  I thought "The Last Dragon" was the coolest movie ever.  One afternoon, while sitting in the backseat with my 11-year old sister during an extremely long and excruciating road trip to visit my grandparents in Texas, I grew frustrated with her.  So frustrated, that I uttered that catchphrase.  I thought I was being funny.

     Epic fail.  My Mom heard me, turned around in her seat and smacked the crap outta me.  My parents are old-school Southerners (yes, with a capital "S"), born and raised in Texas.  They were and remain hearty proponents of the 'Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child' philosophy of childrearing. 

     "I don't ever want to hear you say that word again!  Do you hear me?"

     "Yes, Mom."  My compulsory response was appropriately meek.  I knew I was only getting a fraction of what I would have gotten had we not been cooped up in a car traveling 1100 miles to visit relatives.  I'm sure there were other things my mother said during the exchange, like how what I had said was denigrating to myself, my heritage and ancestry and such, but I no longer remember them; the rest of that particular memory file is irretrievable.

     But the experience reminded me that there are some words that should never be spoken by anyone.  And it is an experience that even my swiss cheese memory has retained.

     Sarah Palin and I don't agree on much, but there have been a few instances when we’ve been simpatico.  Last year, back when she was still a Governor and his scandal was still largely unknown, Palin took David Letterman to task for making a joke about one of her children.  Though the joke had been meant for her oldest child, 18-year old Bristol, Letterman flubbed and said a younger child's name, 14-year old Willow, instead.  The cultural milieu was still so charged and heated that some people went from 0 to pissed in less than a millisecond.  Palin said, "It was a degrading comment about a young woman. I would hope that people really start rising up and deciding it's not acceptable. No wonder young girls especially have such low self-esteem in America when we think it's funny for a so-called comedian to get away with being able to make such a remark as he did and to think that that's acceptable."

     Letterman apologized publicly to the Palin family saying, “These are not jokes made about her 14-year-old daughter.  I would never, never make jokes about raping or having sex of any description with a 14-year-old girl.... Am I guilty of poor taste? Yes. Did I suggest that it was okay for her 14-year-old daughter to be having promiscuous sex? No."

     Letterman's joke did cross a line of taste.  Taking aim at the progeny of politicians can be a hazardous venture; even the most thick-skinned politician will go Mama or Papa Bear when one of their children is made the butt of a joke.  As they should; most children don't ask to be made pawns in their parents' plea for votes, no more than the children in a reality tv show or preacher's kids ask to be subjected to the constant scrutiny of the public eye.  It is done because the public expects it and will slight the candidate or clergy leader who isn't able to offer up a photogenic family. 

     Last week, there was a big flap over Rahm Emanuel's use of the word, 'retard'.  Apparently, the infamously short-tempered Chief of Staff called a liberal group 'f--ing retarded' during a private White House meeting.  When Palin learned of the statement, she fired off a quick retort in the form of…a Facebook status update:

     "Rahm's slur on all God's children with cognitive and developmental disabilities - and the people who love them - is unacceptable, and it's heartbreaking."  I agreed, though I couldn’t help but notice another example of how technology has- once again- forced us to lodge protests in the form of neat little statements that fit within a prescribed number of characters and words.

     She was right.  There are terms that have become a part of the American lexicon, words kids, teenagers, and adults have used for decades.  This is one of them.  That doesn't make it right.  That doesn't make it ok and Emanuel deserved to be taken to task for his words.  Palin also called for Rahm's termination, something the administration ignored.
 
     But Rush Limbaugh did not.  He came forward and took an issue that was already a contentious one and made it a thousand times more so.  How?   "Our political correct society is acting like some giant insult's taken place by calling a bunch of people who are retards, retards...There's going to be a retard summit at the White House."  That was Rush Limbaugh on his radio show referring to Emanuel's comments and a planned White House meeting with- of all people- disability advocates.

     When I heard of Limbaugh's statements, I became curious.  The issues of special needs children are quite important to Sarah Palin.  But Limbaugh's voice holds sway with millions of conservatives, Sarah's core supporters.  Bigger men and women than Palin have ended their careers by taking on the man behind the golden microphone.  What would Sarah do?  Surely she wouldn't chide Emanuel and call for his resignation with one breath and excuse Rush Limbaugh for using the same words (if not identical, then certainly identical in intent) with the next.  Or could she?

     Yes, she could.  "They are kooks," she said on Fox News this past Sunday, "so I agree with Rush Limbaugh. Rush Limbaugh was using satire ... I didn't hear Rush Limbaugh calling a group of people whom he did not agree with 'f-ing retards,' and we did know that Rahm Emanuel, as has been reported, did say that. There is a big difference there."

     From where I sit, there wasn’t that much- if any- difference at all.  I found myself feeling oddly disappointed. Yes, Sarah Palin might have gone down taking a swing at Rush, but she would have gone down honorably and for a just cause.  Or she might have given Goliath pause, maybe even drawn a rare clarification or statement of apology.  We'll never know.  Sarah Palin did the politically expedient thing: give the person you know, like, or need a pass for behavior you would have condemned the other guy (or woman) for engaging in.  That’s why I was disappointed.

     Excusing Limbaugh on the grounds that he was exercising satire is absolutely-to employ a word of the age- redonkulous.  There isn’t a big difference in the use of the word, whether we like or dislike the person or population that uses the word or not.  Can a word be acceptable for some to use and not acceptable for all?  It's a question that's asked often enough.  It's the same question I hear when people- white, black, brown, etc. - debate who can use the 'N" word.  And why.  It's the same question I hear when people debate how the word, 'gay' can and cannot be used.  And why.  The same question I hear when people debate whether the cast of 'Jersey Shore' should refer to one another as- 

     But I don't have answers to these questions, only perspectives.  What I do know is that just because we can say a word, doesn't always mean that we should say that word.  And that's not political correctness.  That's not sugar coating some perceived belief or truth.  It's called acting according to how you were raised.  As my Mom tried to teach me when I was 15.