What he said.
And this: It's not that they're loony since that would imply humorous. These people are dangerous and the people financing them even more so. They are Evil personified. The five Justices of the Supreme Court that voted for the Citizen's United decision should be fired. Our greatest fears as to that decision's deeper and more sinister implications are already being demonstrated.
I don't care who you vote for next Tuesday. I care about who you vote against. Toss your vote to the Green Party or whatever name strikes your fancy. Just please don't vote for any of the extremist right wing candidates. And that includes Meg "Gonna Buy Me A Mansion in Sacramento" Whitman, Carly "Evil Sheep Eye" Fiorini, and the rest of their ilk.
Please.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Polls Are Stupid, People Aren't... I Hope!
Pre-ramble: Apologies to those folks who take polls literally, but really, get a clue.
I'm certain that everyone reading this has a clear understanding of how political polling transpires. However, for the sake of clarity and to put a human element to it, here's my explanation. Paul Schlub and Paulette Schlubette arrive at the phone bank office, a gray windowless cinder block building in the low-rent area of a decaying downtown metropolitan area. They each meander through the open room to their respective desks, strap on their headsets, and commence dialing from a list of registered voters, or just a list of phone numbers. The next eight hours are spent asking questions, receiving too long answers, and generally wishing that college degree meant something. If it weren't for the student loans, they could actually live instead of exist. But, hey, they got jobs!
Paul gets his first hit. Heinous T. Partay and his lovely wife Teena (his second and much younger wife) have just sat down to supper when the phone rings. Heinous loves to be asked his opinions, and when told that a simple yes or no answer is sufficient, he launches into how he hates the government and the high taxes and the gays and the abortionist murderers until he gets all red in the face and has to get his nitro pills from Teena, who is otherwise engaged in painting her toenails hot pink while she watches her dinner grow cold...again. Paul closes his eyes, leans back in his chair, and really really really wants to just go outside, smoke a joint, and bang Paulette.
Paulette, on the other hand, just got her third, "I'm eating dinner, dammit! Stop calling here!" call, which was the topper to three successive ignored rings. She looks at the picture on her desk of her four year old son and two year old daughter and dreams of winning the lotto and moving them all to a country that was less angry and stupid. She never thought of Paul.
Once all of the calls have been made, the data is collected and the extrapolations begin! The computers whirr along, crunching and counting and analyzing until the last byte of information has been processed. There is virtually no human element to this part of the story, so we'll move on. Always hated math, anyway.
The numbers indicate that there are virtual dead heats in many Congressional and Senatorial races that were just recently blow outs. One blowout remains a blowout (I am not a witch), bucking the new conventional wisdom that this country has completely lost it's mind. Only about half of it has, if the polls are to be believed. And, why shouldn't they? A couple thousand patriotic Americans let their dinners grow cold in order for the rest of us to have a snippet of the electorate's mood.
And therein lies the problem. The numbers are based on a relative handful of voters, and it's only those voters who are motivated enough to answer the phone and the questions. The tightening of the races has more to do with the new majority, the Independents, declaring their intentions. See, Independents don't carry signs for either side, so are a tad slower to get involved, preferring to watch the sides go at each other. They also don't answer the phone during dinner. Ever.
The other motivator driving the changing poll numbers is, of course, fear. But it's not the fear on the Right, it's the fear OF the Right that is pushing the reluctant to act. If the Tea Party candidates don't scare you, you're just not paying attention. If the Republicans don't make you want to send them to timeout until they can act more like adults, then you're watching too much reality TV.
I may be proven wrong next Tuesday, and if I am then I will apologize to all I offended and move to Canada. But I just cannot believe that nearly half the voters of Nevada are stupid enough to think that Sharron Angle would make a good Senator. I've lived in Nevada, went to school there, and my in-laws live there. I'm no fan of Harry Reid, either. But, Sharron Angle? What, are you afraid she'll invoke her Second Amendment remedies on you and your family if you don't vote for her? They traded in chickens for the poster child of Guns and Ammo magazine?
But that's what the polls tell us.
Colorado, my home state away from home, where my son and his wife live and a part of me will always reside, where my beloved Denver Broncos look like crap this year, the home of the only man I've ever wanted an autograph from and who could be Emperor of Colorado if he'd just ask. I love the State and it's people, and I cannot believe that two of the scariest and most dangerous men in American politics have almost half the voters ready to elect them in their respective races. Tom Tancredo and Ken Buck are misogynistic racist hypocrites, and that's me being nice. There is no way that half of the good people of the great state of Colorado actually support these two idiots.
But that's what the polls tell us.
Never been to Alaska, don't have any family or friends their. I don't really know that much about it other than what I saw on Ice Road Truckers. Sure looks pretty. Lots of oil. Bridge to Nowhere. Government checks to every citizen. Poor Scott McAdams, the Democratic nominee for Senate, who is a cat at a dog fight. He seems like a really nice guy who really cares about the people around him and his home. And he is said to have zero chance of winning. Are the hearty folks of Alaska really going to send either one of the Spawn of Evil candidates to Washington and leave the sane one at home? Well, it kinda makes sense in a way.
At least, that's what the polls tell us. (Mr. McAdams should probably be grateful. Nice guys get eaten for breakfast in DC).
The Loud White Minority is exactly and only that. Let's make sure they stay the minority.
Go vote next Tuesday.
Hamster Prez
I'm certain that everyone reading this has a clear understanding of how political polling transpires. However, for the sake of clarity and to put a human element to it, here's my explanation. Paul Schlub and Paulette Schlubette arrive at the phone bank office, a gray windowless cinder block building in the low-rent area of a decaying downtown metropolitan area. They each meander through the open room to their respective desks, strap on their headsets, and commence dialing from a list of registered voters, or just a list of phone numbers. The next eight hours are spent asking questions, receiving too long answers, and generally wishing that college degree meant something. If it weren't for the student loans, they could actually live instead of exist. But, hey, they got jobs!
Paul gets his first hit. Heinous T. Partay and his lovely wife Teena (his second and much younger wife) have just sat down to supper when the phone rings. Heinous loves to be asked his opinions, and when told that a simple yes or no answer is sufficient, he launches into how he hates the government and the high taxes and the gays and the abortionist murderers until he gets all red in the face and has to get his nitro pills from Teena, who is otherwise engaged in painting her toenails hot pink while she watches her dinner grow cold...again. Paul closes his eyes, leans back in his chair, and really really really wants to just go outside, smoke a joint, and bang Paulette.
Paulette, on the other hand, just got her third, "I'm eating dinner, dammit! Stop calling here!" call, which was the topper to three successive ignored rings. She looks at the picture on her desk of her four year old son and two year old daughter and dreams of winning the lotto and moving them all to a country that was less angry and stupid. She never thought of Paul.
Once all of the calls have been made, the data is collected and the extrapolations begin! The computers whirr along, crunching and counting and analyzing until the last byte of information has been processed. There is virtually no human element to this part of the story, so we'll move on. Always hated math, anyway.
The numbers indicate that there are virtual dead heats in many Congressional and Senatorial races that were just recently blow outs. One blowout remains a blowout (I am not a witch), bucking the new conventional wisdom that this country has completely lost it's mind. Only about half of it has, if the polls are to be believed. And, why shouldn't they? A couple thousand patriotic Americans let their dinners grow cold in order for the rest of us to have a snippet of the electorate's mood.
And therein lies the problem. The numbers are based on a relative handful of voters, and it's only those voters who are motivated enough to answer the phone and the questions. The tightening of the races has more to do with the new majority, the Independents, declaring their intentions. See, Independents don't carry signs for either side, so are a tad slower to get involved, preferring to watch the sides go at each other. They also don't answer the phone during dinner. Ever.
The other motivator driving the changing poll numbers is, of course, fear. But it's not the fear on the Right, it's the fear OF the Right that is pushing the reluctant to act. If the Tea Party candidates don't scare you, you're just not paying attention. If the Republicans don't make you want to send them to timeout until they can act more like adults, then you're watching too much reality TV.
I may be proven wrong next Tuesday, and if I am then I will apologize to all I offended and move to Canada. But I just cannot believe that nearly half the voters of Nevada are stupid enough to think that Sharron Angle would make a good Senator. I've lived in Nevada, went to school there, and my in-laws live there. I'm no fan of Harry Reid, either. But, Sharron Angle? What, are you afraid she'll invoke her Second Amendment remedies on you and your family if you don't vote for her? They traded in chickens for the poster child of Guns and Ammo magazine?
But that's what the polls tell us.
Colorado, my home state away from home, where my son and his wife live and a part of me will always reside, where my beloved Denver Broncos look like crap this year, the home of the only man I've ever wanted an autograph from and who could be Emperor of Colorado if he'd just ask. I love the State and it's people, and I cannot believe that two of the scariest and most dangerous men in American politics have almost half the voters ready to elect them in their respective races. Tom Tancredo and Ken Buck are misogynistic racist hypocrites, and that's me being nice. There is no way that half of the good people of the great state of Colorado actually support these two idiots.
But that's what the polls tell us.
Never been to Alaska, don't have any family or friends their. I don't really know that much about it other than what I saw on Ice Road Truckers. Sure looks pretty. Lots of oil. Bridge to Nowhere. Government checks to every citizen. Poor Scott McAdams, the Democratic nominee for Senate, who is a cat at a dog fight. He seems like a really nice guy who really cares about the people around him and his home. And he is said to have zero chance of winning. Are the hearty folks of Alaska really going to send either one of the Spawn of Evil candidates to Washington and leave the sane one at home? Well, it kinda makes sense in a way.
At least, that's what the polls tell us. (Mr. McAdams should probably be grateful. Nice guys get eaten for breakfast in DC).
The Loud White Minority is exactly and only that. Let's make sure they stay the minority.
Go vote next Tuesday.
Hamster Prez
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
My New Favorite Saying...
Morality is doing what is right regardless of what you're told.
Religion is doing what you're told regardless of what's right.
Being gay IS a choice.
There's been a lot of talk in the recent weeks leading to the election next Tuesday about how gay people have a choice about being gay. I'm here to set the record, pardon the pun, straight about that. As a gay man, I believe I am qualified to comment on this particular subject. This may sound as if I am giving credence to those who make the "gay is a choice" argument, but rest assured loyal Hamsters, I am not.
Being gay is a choice. Being homosexual is not. The only choice I have is in deciding whether or not to live my life as who I am. To live a free and open life or one that is constrained and closeted. To accept that part of me that is undeniable and intuitive or to continue a life of self-recrimination and loathing. To realize that being a gay homosexual is not who I am, but one of the many parts that comprise my public and personal selves.
In most people's paradigm, that last sentence contains a redundancy. Gay homosexual? You can be one without the other; as in a homosexual who doesn't identify as being gay, or denies his or her sexuality. There is no comparative phrase for heterosexuals that I can come up with. Straight is heterosexual, hetrerosexual is straight. Some in the gay community might call them "Breeders", but that isn't always the case. Not all heterosexuals procreate, and not all prcocreation comes from heterosexuals. And, simple biology here, if it weren't for all that procreating, there wouldn't be any homos, either. Both of my parents were, oddly enough, heterosexual. And science has shown that gay/lesbian parents do not necessarily pop out drag queen babies. It's a matter of random chance. My parents, when first confronted with the news of my impending birth, had no idea what they would end up with. It's not like they went shopping at Sears to pick out the baby of choice. I might be a rocket scientist, a rock musician, a rock breaker, or a rock around their necks.
I could also have been a rocket scientist with a rock band that rocked the world, like Tom Scholz of the band Boston. Sadly, that was not the case. (Scholz was actually a mechanical engineering graduate at MIT, but I think the point is still valid).
In concurrance with the social agenda vendors on the right, there is a cure for being gay. It's called a closet. To their chagrin and angst, however, there is no cure for homosexuality. No amount of prayer, denial, or drug abuse can alter that fact, a fact that I can attest to having tried all of those and more. The (un)-Christians like to refer to their older text when arguing against us, which only proves that we've been around for just as long as they have, and are as much a part of the human race as they.
The Right loves homosexuals. It's gay people they hate.
Being gay is a choice. Being homosexual is not. The only choice I have is in deciding whether or not to live my life as who I am. To live a free and open life or one that is constrained and closeted. To accept that part of me that is undeniable and intuitive or to continue a life of self-recrimination and loathing. To realize that being a gay homosexual is not who I am, but one of the many parts that comprise my public and personal selves.
In most people's paradigm, that last sentence contains a redundancy. Gay homosexual? You can be one without the other; as in a homosexual who doesn't identify as being gay, or denies his or her sexuality. There is no comparative phrase for heterosexuals that I can come up with. Straight is heterosexual, hetrerosexual is straight. Some in the gay community might call them "Breeders", but that isn't always the case. Not all heterosexuals procreate, and not all prcocreation comes from heterosexuals. And, simple biology here, if it weren't for all that procreating, there wouldn't be any homos, either. Both of my parents were, oddly enough, heterosexual. And science has shown that gay/lesbian parents do not necessarily pop out drag queen babies. It's a matter of random chance. My parents, when first confronted with the news of my impending birth, had no idea what they would end up with. It's not like they went shopping at Sears to pick out the baby of choice. I might be a rocket scientist, a rock musician, a rock breaker, or a rock around their necks.
I could also have been a rocket scientist with a rock band that rocked the world, like Tom Scholz of the band Boston. Sadly, that was not the case. (Scholz was actually a mechanical engineering graduate at MIT, but I think the point is still valid).
In concurrance with the social agenda vendors on the right, there is a cure for being gay. It's called a closet. To their chagrin and angst, however, there is no cure for homosexuality. No amount of prayer, denial, or drug abuse can alter that fact, a fact that I can attest to having tried all of those and more. The (un)-Christians like to refer to their older text when arguing against us, which only proves that we've been around for just as long as they have, and are as much a part of the human race as they.
The Right loves homosexuals. It's gay people they hate.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I Don't Own Any Chickens
So, according to Sue Lowden, Republican Senatorial candidate in Nevada, I guess it's a good thing I live in California. She is advocating the barter system as a way to bring down health care costs. Her analogy is that "in the olden days" our grandparents used chickens to pay for doctor visits. Ms. Lowden, this is not the "olden days" and you are assuming that we have the materials to barter medications, treatments, and tests. That's gonna take a lot of chickens.
I wonder how many chickens Ms. Lowden owns. I just hope she's not planning on bartering votes for services. I think that's illegal. Perhaps Senator Ensign could advise her on that one.
Hamster Prez
I wonder how many chickens Ms. Lowden owns. I just hope she's not planning on bartering votes for services. I think that's illegal. Perhaps Senator Ensign could advise her on that one.
Hamster Prez
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Guest Columnist tonight:Re An Open Letter
Oddly enough, a great deal of my studies this week revolved around the subject of ethics. The one thing that everyone seemed to agree on although no one would admit it was that ethics are anything but universal.
Can we as a species coexist in such a way that there is enough for everyone? Of course we can. Will we ever get to that point? I believe that some day we will. Will you and I live to see it manifest on a national let alone a global scale? Probably not.
Human Beings are hard wired for self preservation. Preservation of the species however.....Let's face it our collective sense of species survival stops shortly after our virtually uncontrollable need to breed like germs. Oh, we may be programed to protect our young (while they are young) but, God help the youngster who is not the fruit of our loins. We will think nothing of letting them die in the streets.....don't believe me? Go outside and look at what's roaming the streets. The miracle here is that we are able some how to breed more rapidly than we are able to kill one another off. Were it not for taught social structure and the need for collective effort to achieve a great many of our needs we might indeed have gone the way of the DoDo long ago.
You speak of the haves and the have nots but, I think that there are two much more prominant groups. These would be those who serve others and those who serve self. Further it occurs to me that the reason that we're in such a mess; the reason for the disparity lies in the fact that while those who serve others are busy doing just that, those who serve self are equally busy with their agenda. Unfortunately all too often this agenda puts these people in postions of power and control where they continue to....you guessed it...serve themselves.
My fear is that it will take a global collapse of ... well... global proportion before the playing field will truly be leveled.
Thunder Rodent
Can we as a species coexist in such a way that there is enough for everyone? Of course we can. Will we ever get to that point? I believe that some day we will. Will you and I live to see it manifest on a national let alone a global scale? Probably not.
Human Beings are hard wired for self preservation. Preservation of the species however.....Let's face it our collective sense of species survival stops shortly after our virtually uncontrollable need to breed like germs. Oh, we may be programed to protect our young (while they are young) but, God help the youngster who is not the fruit of our loins. We will think nothing of letting them die in the streets.....don't believe me? Go outside and look at what's roaming the streets. The miracle here is that we are able some how to breed more rapidly than we are able to kill one another off. Were it not for taught social structure and the need for collective effort to achieve a great many of our needs we might indeed have gone the way of the DoDo long ago.
You speak of the haves and the have nots but, I think that there are two much more prominant groups. These would be those who serve others and those who serve self. Further it occurs to me that the reason that we're in such a mess; the reason for the disparity lies in the fact that while those who serve others are busy doing just that, those who serve self are equally busy with their agenda. Unfortunately all too often this agenda puts these people in postions of power and control where they continue to....you guessed it...serve themselves.
My fear is that it will take a global collapse of ... well... global proportion before the playing field will truly be leveled.
Thunder Rodent
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