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Archive for the ‘The USA from the outside in’ Category

I’ve been pounding away on the adoption advocacy front for a very long time, but still raw from the recent flaying I’ve decided to commence a brand new campaign for the betterment of humanity for the time being … today, anyway.

Having left the US in 1993, I’ve missed a lot, and I am nowhere near up to speed on aspects of Americana ranging from breakfast cereals to presidential candidates. The pack, both Democrat and Republican, is a confusion of Who dat?, and You gotta be kiddin’!, but the process does put me to pondering all things democratic and the processes that are said to add up to democracy.

I well recall researching a paper on the Electoral College about 35 years ago and coming away from the project convinced that it had seen its day. Lo and behold, however, it lives, and continues to drag its rotting corpse all over the election process of the new millennium.

With that mummy apparently propped in place and not easily budged, I would like to propose an idea that would make all the difference in turning democracy into something that would really mean what it is suppose to mean. In one swell foop and with simple implementation, the people … THE PEOPLE (in big letters) … could be guaranteed true representation in every government in the world that now has reasonably free and fair elections.

Ready for it?

Every category on every ballot would have one simple addition:

None of the Above

If “none of the above” wins, it’s back to Square One. Yes, it would be an expensive exercise, but only until those in positions of power take a good look at the sack full of nickels that hit them upside the head and stop jerking us around.

The idea orginally came to me in the ’80s when i found myself in New Orleans covering the gubernatorial election in Louisiana that pitted a convicted criminal against the head of the Ku Klux Klan.

Imagine never again having to mark your ballot for a lesser of evils. Think of the process of choosing candidates that would have to consider a total rejection of all party favorites or “best chance to win” creeps no one really wants to see in office. Consider the power that would come with a vote that said in no uncertain terms, “We are tired of this nonsense, and we’re not going to take it any longer!”

And that is my thought for the day. Feel free to discuss this and get back to me with your assessments.

I think it’s a fab idea, and one we should make happen.

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It’s a big dividing point between American expats as far as maintaining a capacity to take in and digest present day events in the country, the 12th of June 1994.

You are forgiven if the date doesn’t set bells clanging, as events of the day easily float to the bottom of the cesspool that started filling then and continues to this day. To put it simply, this was the day Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman were brutally butchered in a Southern California condo.

What followed could now probably be traced as the headwaters of Reality TV, and it ended with OJ Simpson winning the “Got Away With Murder” award.

People living in the States through that process followed along, joined the discussion, watched the glove show-and-dance, knew what Johnnie Cochran drank, how F. Lee Bailey took his coffee and what Marcia Clark was going to do next with her hair. Who didn’t have an opinion on Lance Ito, was more than a bit uncomfortable with Mark Fuhrman or thought Kato Kaelin was a moron? Eating, drinking and sleeping the OJ trail was common behavior as a cult-like fixation drew in more and more media junkies.

The verdict brought whatever emotions it brought, and those who lived through it can still be brought to a froth over specifics.

Those who left the country BOJ (Before OJ) … me, for instance … certainly heard about the case, most likely a lot, but didn’t live and breathe it. We weren’t surrounded by the story, didn’t run into video of white Mustangs and blood-soaked walkways twice a day, and weren’t assailed by details, speculation and conjecture every time we turned on a radio or opened a newspaper. We didn’t live with OJ’s oversized smirk popping up on every corner, live coverage and endless footage of the same scenes and statements over and over and over again.

Because we missed all this, we never moved into the groove that grew accustomed to the frenzy, that began to see the hype as justifiable and the massive media as a citizen’s right to know, and we didn’t for a moment see the verdict coming. In other words, we found ourselves left out of the loop that found getting away with murder a logical consequence of celebrity.

Much that has happened since in America remains puzzling to BOJs like me. The 2000 presidential election is one example; the bullshit blind involvement in Iraq, another.

Today, it’s a CNN piece that has me scratching my head … the one about the University of Pennsylvania professor who beat his wife to death last year as she wrapped Christmas presents. He’s finally fessed up and is likely to do 4.5 to 7 years for his crime.

Excuse me, but WTF kind of sentence is that?

And what kind of sentences are these … ?

“What kept them there [in the marriage] was their undying love for their daughter Olivia,” said Art Gregory, who is now raising the girl. “Both of them put Olivia first, beyond anything else, unfortunately to a very tragic end.”

Rafael Robb apologized to Olivia, who was not in court, and said he was “very remorseful.”

“I know she liked her mother. … And now she doesn’t have a mother,” he said, stifling tears..

This is how cold-blooded murder is covered in the US today? With “stifling tears” and not one single mention of how appalling it is that a creep who bludgeoned his wife to death in the middle of her Christmas prep will probably be out by Christmas 2009 … having to do his own gift wrap, thankyouverymuch … seeing as how he’s unlikely to find a wife to kill while in prison, so should get time off for good behavior, and probably also for time served while hoping to slip the noose without having to admit that he bloody well did it?

Like coming into “Lost” in the second season, having missed the OJ show I just can’t get up to speed with so much in America these days and the point of the plot is lost on me completely.

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I have a political question for today:

Are folks in America as hot over the YouTube “debates” as they look to be from out here where CNN comes only in brief, but enthusiastic spurts?

I heard the hype leading up to the Democrats doing their version of “Who Do You Trust”, and now that it’s Republicans about to step into the limelight, it seems the same attempt at frenzy whipping is happening.

For the first time in presidential debate history, user-generated video will drive two unprecedented debates.

Be still, my pounding heart.

Do people actually perceive this song and dance as some sort of prime example of true democracy in action? Or does everyone know that these are just the latest “reality programming” offerings, but with a longer wait for gratification as there is a bit of a twist on the voting procedures?

Is the process to choose a new leader of the free world now the same as deciding who is in and who is out of the house, off the island, the next pop star du jour?

Voters must realize that there is nothing democratic in the process that decides which videos make the cut, which don’t get a second look, and which are only used as teasers in the ad campaign leading up to the show. Someone with quite the agenda in tow is picking and choosing. The manipulation has to be obvious to one and all, and surely the idea of CNN in charge must give pause for thought. Mustn’t it?

“YouTube enables voters and candidates to communicate in a way that simply was not possible during the last election,” said Chad Hurley, CEO and co-founder of YouTube. “For the first time in the history of presidential debates, voters from around the country will be able to ask the future president of the United States a question in video form and hear the answer.”

“These debates take the bold step of embracing the ever-increasing role of the Internet in politics,” said Jim Walton, CNN Worldwide president. “The inclusion of the massive online community enables these debates to engage more viewers – and potential voters – than ever before.”

Hello?

So putting debate questions in “video form” somehow elevates that material above the living room dialog of the Iowa Caucuses or the coffee stops in New Hampshire? And because this was “simply not possible during the last election” it’s assumed to be a good thing?

Suppose next time around it’s possible to pose YouCube questions to candidates in 3D, will that guarantee a freer, less corrupt America and assure that the person with the most votes wins?

All one must do to get the true point of this for CNN is to substitute good demographic market targets where Jim Walton parenthetically positioned “potential voters”.

Want to embrace the ever-increasing roll of the Internet in politics? Get candidates to start blogs where anyone can ask questions, make comments, demand straight answers, and be able to search archives. Sure, it would be a massive amount of work, but politics ain’t for sissies … plus they could do it in their jammies from anywhere.

If Americans are truly concerned about moving the election process into the 21st Century, they should be demanding an end to the Electoral College instead of letting Anderson Cooper run the show.

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I am thankful. I am SO thankful. I am really, really thankful.

I am thankful for my life, the fact that I have had one and that I still have one. The emergency heart surgery in Singapore in ’99 was a close shave that puts me in mind every day of what a gift each is.

I am thankful for the miracles that are my children and am perpetually astounded at the people they are and how lucky I have been to have them in my life.

I am thankful for my husband, for his kind and loving nature, his generous spirit, his humor, and for the circumstances that allowed us to find each other even though he was on one side of the planet while I was on the other.

I am thankful for all my family, for my friends, for the people sharing the same plane of cyberspace I cruise.

I am thankful for my home, for clean air and clear water, the comforts my life provides, for the timing and circumstances of my birth that have allowed me to live without war in my back yard or the horrors of life as a refugee. I have never been truly hungry, and neither have my children, and that’s enough right there to fall on my knees in appreciation for.

Because my life is as wonderful as it is, I have the time and energy today to wallow in misery, and although that may sound like a mouthful of sour grapes, there is no way I can let this day pass without spending a good bit of it sad as anything and ready to burst into tears at the drop of a pilgrim’s hat. I am miserable in honor of all that I have that I no longer have access to, and as happily content as my life is now my losses still deserve commemorating, so here goes …

Today I miss my mother. I miss my oldest daughter and my granddaughter. I miss my grown son. I miss my brothers, their families, their humor and their appetites. I miss green Jell-O. I miss the country that celebrates thanksgiving so wonderfully and enthusiastically. I miss a chill in the air and the sight of my own breath. I miss the smell of sycamore leaves. I miss pumpkin pies cooling on my mom’s washing machine and the pattern on her good china. I miss the company of those who have known me for all their lives or all of mine. I miss sharing memories of Thanksgivings past with people who where there. I miss a shared comprehension of what it means to eat turkey and how important variations in stuffing can be. I miss hand-print gobblers on fridges. I miss my childhood, or at least the good parts. I miss the drive up I-5 and my mother’s kitchen.

I rue the fact that I could be in California today, that Mark and the kids and I, had we planned well and done what needed to be done, would right now be a couple of hours away from waking up on Thanksgiving morning and preparing to sit down to an early dinner with some portion of my family somewhere, if not the whole fam damily … if the planning had gone really well.

As I say every fourth Thursday in November: Next year, for sure.

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I must be seriously out of my ever-lovin’ mind, but I’m thinking about starting up another blog once this whole NaBloPoMo business is finished for the year. This one is good for a lot of release and stuff of interest (to me), but doesn’t focus, and my pro blogs are all about adoption, a topic that has my passion, but is restricting, nonetheless.

There’s not a day that goes by that something arising from my trawl for blog fodder, my perusal of newsal, doesn’t have me bursting at the seams with too much to say about events in the real world.

From this isolated little perch here in the Indian Ocean, a great deal of the stuff of life beyond these shores looks darned silly, menacing, imprudent, overindulgent or worse, and it seems a glance from a perspective that’s not marinated in the au jus du jour just might be interesting … perhaps, again, to me alone, but personal blogs are, after all, the journalistic equivalent of singing in the shower.

From my old hometown newspaper to the Times times at least three (New York, London, L.A.), to the WaPo and the WSJ, I read what’s fit to print, and it might be nice for me to be able to print what gives me fits.

We’ll see how it goes, but January could see yet another place where my opinionated blather goes public. Another year, another blog?

Speaking of …

On the women-over-50 group at NaBloPoMo it was mentioned that this demographic … women over 50 … is the fastest growing in blogs and web design on the Net. Apparently, we all have something to say. (I’m guessing our husbands already know.)

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Anyone looking for a hot new vacation destination might want to consider at least passing through the Minneapolis-St Paul International airport.

According to the BBC, the bathroom that was the scene of Senator Larry Craig’s bust for soliciting sex from a cop is now attracting tourists.

Yep.

“People are taking pictures,” Karen Evans, an information officer at Minneapolis-St Paul international airport, told Associated Press.

I have to admit, if I found myself in the general vicinity of that particular men’s room, I would be sorely tempted to send my husband in with my digital, although I would demand that he wash his hands before and after.

As it is, the BBC is doing it up. This sort of story is right up their alley … a little racy, a bit of poof, and any story that can be made to stretch to cover both wank and Yank gets it’s own headline for sure.

They’re quoting the shoeshine guy with the stand next to the lav saying, “it’s been crazy. People have been going inside, taking pictures of the stall, taking pictures outside the bathroom door.”

Classic.

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What is it with Americans and boobs?

I just finished posting a blog on the Adoption News page that included a bit from ABC on how some people view breast feeding in public.

Holy Victoriana, Boobman!

Four … count ’em FOUR … US states have laws on their books that make it illegal for a mother to openly provide comfort and nourishment to her child anywhere other than in her own home … and better she’s behind closed doors even there … or in a toilet cubicle should her baby need feeding while she’s out and about in the world.

Yes, to 57% of the American public putting breasts to their intended use is considered as unacceptable a spectacle as taking a dump. Seventy-two percent object to even having to witness the act on television, although I’ll assume they’ll make allowances for National Geographic documentaries on Namibian Bushman Tribes.

Here in Seychelles, boobs are everywhere. Not just the swaddled, strapped, perched, hefted and covered versions, but the bouncy, fleshy, stick-right-out-there … or hang-right-down-there, as the case may be … meet the twins, real things.

Bosoms are bared to feed babies on busses, at bus stops, in shops, along the road, in church, at funerals, while waiting in line at the bank, buying stamps at the post office and paying electric bills … basically anywhere babies get hungry.

It goes pretty much like this: baby fusses, mom opens her blouse, baby nurses, no one pays one bit of attention, except maybe to notice how cute the baby might be.

Tourists can’t wait to step out of their bras, too, as tanned tits are a prized souvenir of a Seychelles holiday. Beaches and hotel swimming pool decks are littered with matching sets of blistering boobs, and although application of sunscreen can get attention from any Americans in the neighborhood, no one else takes much from the process other than a prompt to renew their own film of protection.

Getting all het up over a couple of blobs of flesh-covered fat seems darned silly to most people in the world, especially when there happens to be a baby between the boob and what should be the casual observer.

It’s time to take the “tit” out of titillation, folks. In other words. GROW UP.

Here’s a link to information on breast feeding an adopted child. It includes another link to a bit about breast feeding fathers that some may find interesting.

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A weekend just came and went, and although I spent far too much time in front of the computer, the rest of my family was out and about in big ways.

Mark is clearing the lower bit of our land, so was up and down the hill like so many monkeys jumping on a bed, toting chainsaw and grand kuto … Sam on his heals, then running back up to be well out of the way if and when the call comes, “Timber!”, making the most of our acre-plus and the surrounding jungle. Cj, too small for a Tarzan impression, kept herself busy jogging up and down our road, scolding the dogs as she went along and stopping occasionally to examine whatever pretty rock or fancy bug that happend to cross her meandering path.

A few more hours outside saw buckets being filled and dumped, resulting mud puddles targeted for hops, skips and jumps, sticks tossed for dogs that have no inclination to fetch, flowers picked for mom, and assorted other vigorous activities of the fun kind.

A couple of hours on the beach had both kids running and jumping, chasing crabs and practicing cartwheels while loading their hair and ears up with sand as the days wound down, and some living room dancing had the whole bunch of us movin’ and a groovin’ before settling in for pre-bed quiet time.

A story in this morning’s news had me wondering, though, how parents in the rest of world manage to get kids to pass weekends in any sort of healthy fashion.

This in the Huff Post, reporting that nearly a million American kids have personal trainers, about had me gagging on my guava.

What kind of life is it when children no longer walk to school, play outside or ride their bikes, but instead need parents to fork out $60 an hour for someone to put them through paces in a gym?

it seems the whole concept of being a kid has changed drastically, and I can’t help but worry about this generation. Things do run in cycles, however, and this may just be a phase that will have its own backlash someday.

Maybe by the time today’s pampered kids hit their stride, a rousing game of Ring-around-the-Rosie will serve as an icebreaker at cocktail parties and tag will be an Olympic sport.

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A victim of my own success, I’ve now got the new blog gig over on the pro blog site I work for, Adoption.com, and am a bit busier than I like to be.

Don’t get me wrong; I like the work and enjoy having such a huge platform from which I can point out the idiocy of idiots and add up the moron quotient in spewed drivel. It does this old heart good to know that I’m doing my bit toward keeping the world somewhat livable … or at least managing to cause some irritating rashes to break out on those who attempt the opposite. It’s not a pleasant thing to pull off scabs and get pus oozing, but that’s often what it takes to eradicate dangerous rot.

But the point of this post has bifurcated prematurely; it’s politics I set out to write about today.

Monday was National Day here in Seychelles, a big deal of an event that marks not much of anything but is celebrated with hoopla nonetheless. It’s one of three public holidays in June and falls between Liberation Day … the day of the coups d’etat that toppled the government of the first president … and Independence Day.

The President’s National Day speech is always eagerly anticipated, as it often gives clues to what’s ahead for the Seychellois. This year we learned there are changes in the wind for tourist-related business, which sounds good, and if they figure out how to get the site right, you can read the whole thing in English here in the Seychelles Nation newspaper. (Don’t count on it, though.)

My editor on the Adoption News blog wants me to gather info on presidential candidates in the US race for 2008 … an assignment that has me realizing how far removed I am and how long I’ve been away from the States.

I mean, really! Who are these people?

Of course, I know about Hillary and Rudy, and Edwards, Biden and McCain have familiar faces even to me, but although I know him now Obama did seem to pop up like a genie from a lamp. And Kucinich? Brownback? Mitt Romney?

Have we ever had a candidate called Mitt before?

That reminds me of the repeated process of learning to live with a new name in the White House. Anyone remember how odd the combination of the words ‘President’ and ‘Clinton’ sounded before Bill moved in?

I clearly recall people saying that ‘Reagan’ could never seriously be attached to the title, and ‘Bush’ just sounding silly.

So a G.W. was no leap, as a Hillary wouldn’t be … we’re all accustomed to the rhythm and cadence of their last names tacked on to leader of the free world … but we’ll get used to making easy reference to whoever ends up in the job.

Well, there are a few names that should never be conjoined with the title … I’m thinking Limbaugh, Liddy and Hilton, off the top of my head.

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I am APPALLED!

Really, folks … can some please tell me WHAT IN THE HELL is going on in America these days?

When today’s perusal of the newsal pops up with this … the Huff Post’s report on Paris Hiltons’ failure to pitch a hissy grand enough to keep her out of jail … what can possibly follow but a jaw-drop, a head-scratch and a WTF?

I am suddenly so pleased that the loop in which this spoiled brat of a nothing special is focal only rolled into my world a few weeks ago … not being at all familiar with a Paris Hilton that isn’t a hotel … and can’t begin to comprehend, “… paparazzi sprinting in pursuit and helicopters broadcasting live from above …”.

Let me get this straight …

This pampered young woman, a life-long recipient of special favors and undue positive attention who may very well be accustomed to having staff whose job it is to take whatever punishment has been deserved since she was old enough to shout orders at underlings, gets busted.

She’s given parole. While on parole, she gets busted not once, but twice for the same dangerous and totally illegal behavior. A judge decides she’s just not grasping the whole consequences thing, so ups the ante by putting her in what is likely the first time out of her life.

Being that all this takes place in L.A. where every nobody would give their left leg to be a somebody, even if everybody agrees that nobody is ever all that impressed with anybody because they’re all so busy trying to impress everybody else so nobody is looking at anybody but the somebody everybody already knows, this modern-day ZhaZha (No offense … I could have easily used Charo, but she’s a bit too talented for the comparison.) had the opportunity to talk or blow or grease her way back to Mommy … or at least to Mommy’s big house with all those people there who do what they’re told.

Now, a judge … that’s a guy who’s in charge of laws and stuff, so therefore able to make decisions … sends her back to the pokey, apparently unimpressed by tears and tantrums (Wow! He must be really tough!), and the scene carries more media weight than global warming or the discovery of a new planet?

Huh?

As if it wasn’t disturbing enough to learn that my home country now worships at the feet of the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Simon Cowell … a dawning awareness that had me asking a few weeks ago, “What the hell are you thinking over there making mediocrity so lucrative?” … do I now have to start accepting the fact that my compatriots have completely substituted absolute rubbish for sustenance?

Any idea where that leads?

I’ll tell you where it leads, and it’s not pretty … it leads to mental starvation and brain death. Keep this up for much longer and you’ll soon be putting morons in the White House and getting yourselves involved in un-winnable wars.

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