Patriots Protest

My wife, son and I had the distinct honor of walking among tens of thousands of anti-war protesters at Washington, D.C.’s National Mall yesterday.

As a child of the ’60s who shared a lungful of teargas with rioting anti-war protesters on the Washington Monument lawn over 35 years ago, yesterday’s stroll among the masses was both nostalgic and quite surprising.

Despite “peace” and “love” being the buzzwords of the Vietnam era, anti-war protests were neither peaceful nor loving. Obscenities flew and vulgar chants echoed off Washington’s marble and stone. At a circa ’69 star-studded Fourth of July concert in support of American troops in Southeast Asia, a tie-died, hirsute mob managed to drown out a military band with “One, two, three, four, we don’t want your fucking war,” and my favorite, “Fuck Bob Hope, fuck Bob Hope.”

Why they were mad at Bob Hope, I still haven’t figured out. But I do know the ’60s were about anger. The “hippies” had lots to be mad about and the Vietnam War has long since proven to be a monumental blunder, but the youth of that time were not just anti-war. They were often anti-government, anti-military and anti-American. They burned flags, touted socialism and often behaved as disciples of anarchy.

But Saturday’s massive protest was different. By my estimation, at least 100,000 came to the Capitol Mall to voice their opposition to the war and Bush’s recently proposed “surge.” What erupted was, well, a festival.

There were plenty of college-age kids, but I estimate the average age of the protesters to be over 30. Many were over 40 or 50. Grandmothers, grandfathers, and sometimes entire families, carried signs. There were priests and nuns. With the exception of one sign that proclaimed, “Fuck George Bush,” the messages were civil.

The myriad slogans were direct, like “Bush lies, soldiers die” and “Bring our troops home now.” One young man, who ostensibly woke up late and couldn’t think of a catchy slogan, proudly carried his home-made poster, which read: “War is bad.”

There were dogs with signs draped across their backs, a protester wearing a Richard Nixon mask and an Uncle Sam on stilts. A large, inflatable arch proclaimed the participants as the “True Majority.” A stage served as focal point for the protest and celebrities took turns deriding Bush’s decisions concerning Iraq.

One young man took the microphone and claimed to be an Iraqi opposed to our “occupation,” and while I have no reason to doubt him, his accent and speech reminded me more of a Saturday Night Live skit than the rabble-rousing, anti-war rant it was supposed to be.

A few protesters handed out underground magazines, like “Socialist Worker” and “Militant,” yet when rebuffed with a polite, “No thank you,” they smiled and moved on.

I never saw or heard a single anti-soldier or anti-American comment. No flags (that I know of) were burned. I heard no profanity. Red, white and blue was everywhere.

These protesters wanted their soldiers to come home and they were mad at Bush for sending them into harm’s way, yet there wasn’t a violent vibe in the clear blue sky. People laughed and children played. I smiled and soaked it up. Throw in a livestock competition and an apple-pie-eating contest and it would have been a state fair.

In this post-9/11 era when overzealous security threatens our daily liberty, 100,000 anti-war Americans gathered near the U.S. Capitol, the very seat of power in the free world, and you could hardly find a cop.

There were no police in riot gear slapping batons in their palms. The cops you did see were on the periphery, leaning against their squad cars, sipping coffee and watching like the whole event was a Shriner’s parade. The city even did it’s best to accommodate the crowds by placing block-long rows of porta-poties along the Mall.

My 13-year-old son had never seen such a protest in person. He was surprised so many anti-war protesters could get so close to the nation’s Capitol so easily. He asked what would happen if everyone suddenly charged the Capitol steps in an effort to take the building.

I told him I’m sure many would die, but most would get in. He looked at me, incredulous, yet eventually got the point. Trust is a vital element of freedom.

We wandered carefree amid thousands of strangers, each with a visceral devotion to ending the Iraq war, yet we felt as safe as if we were at a neighborhood park. The reason is simple, but unique to this country. We were with fellow Americans … patriots, every one.

Painful Pundit

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Let the Flag Burning Begin

Congressional jellyfish almost set fire to the Constitution recently when 66 Senators voted for a constitutional amendment that would ban desecration of the American flag.

The Senate needed 67 votes to pass the amendment and they missed it by one. Thank the Lord 34 Senators still have a vestigial backbone.

Pee-brained right-wing pundits have been showering us with the urine of their faith, trying to convince us that if we don’t use the power of the strongest government on earth to subdue the half-dozen or so annual flag burners in this nation, we’ll all be doomed to eternity in Hell while civilization slides into a cesspool of anarchy.

Those few, mostly on the left, who are unafraid to take an unpopular stand based on principle, have cited compelling arguments against the ridiculous amendment, including the obvious fact that it’s the metaphorical equivalent of killing a house fly with a tactical nuke.

But a lot of Americas (a majority by some estimates) don’t like the idea of some hippie burning Old Glory on the steps of city hall. So they whip out their emotional six-shooters and commence to shootin’-up everyone’s liberty in the name of patriotism. “String ‘em up. It’ll teach ‘em a lesson.”

Pissy pundits flood the airwaves with silly sophistry, picking apart the boundaries of free speech and patriotism like blind surgeons performing lobotomies.

But the whole flag desecration argument can be reduced to one element that is essential to American liberty: Property rights. Without property rights, we are not free.

If I buy a piece of cloth decorated to resemble an American flag, and the government can put me in jail for not treating this cloth in a manner pleasing to the government’s controlling faction, then I have no property “rights,” only privileges granted to me by the state.

And that, comrades, is about as un-American as it gets.

I don’t like hippies, I think flag-burners are idiots and I wouldn’t waste spit on a Dixie Chick. But nobody has a right to tell me how to treat something I own that looks like an American flag.

Rights don’t come from the Constitution; they are simply protected by it. If Congress and a majority of Americans don’t get that, then they’ve missed the whole point of that great document and the thousands who’ve died to defend it.

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Ann Coulter: Charlatan or Terrorist?

Muslim clerics say it’s OK to kill Americans in the name of Allah. We call them hate mongers and purveyors of terrorism.

Christian activist Ann Coulter says that Timothy McVeigh should have made a visit to the New York Times building. We call her an unapologetic voice of her faith.

Muslim leaders say President Bush should die. We ask, “Where is the moral outrage from the Muslim community?”

Coulter says that we should put poison in the dessert of U. S. Supreme Court justice John Paul Stevens as retribution for his Liberal votes. We ask, “Where can I get a copy of her new book?”

What’s wrong here?

Coulter is a political Chappelle – a gifted orator who calculatingly crosses the border of good taste to drop rhetorical bombs into the gaping maws of hungry Christian and Right Wing extremists. Like frenzied fans at a WWE Smackdown, they drool and cheer over every verbal suplex she lands on the “Godless” political Left. She’s the goon on their righteous team.

Coulter is cashing in big time. Her comments are caractures of honest pundits who transcend political correctness in an effort to reach the truth. She’s become a sick nightclub act, doing vile stand-up for an audience drunk on her contrived cocktail of sanctimonious sermonizing.

Coulter panders to the lowest of our emotions, but to my knowledge she’s never hurt anyone, so comparing her to a terrorist isn’t fair.

However, her doting fans don’t get off that easy.

When word of the 9/11 bombings reached the Middle East, people danced in the streets. When Coulter speaks of bombing journalists and killing Supreme Court Justices, her faithful minions run out to by her books and sing her praise.

Coulter is a charlatan, selling pious snake oil to the intellectually challenged. She is harmless, but her followers should be feared.

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What's Wrong With Lobbying?

In business, lobbying is called "selling." In private life, lobbying is called "currying favor." In school we called it "sucking up." All of it is derived from the rational principal of exchange – I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

Lobbying is part of life, and just as natural. It is a Constitutional right for citizens to approach their elected leaders and attempt to influence their actions. It's a vital component of democracy.

So why are countless Congressmen and Senators scrambling to put more limits on lobbying?

They'll tell you we need to rein-in the influence of corrupt weasels like Jack Abramoff. They'll tell you we need to corral crooked cockroaches like Tom DeLay. After all, nobody wants government for sale to the highest bidder. But their solutions are as worthless as postpartum advice from Tom Cruise.

Lobbying is not the problem. Runaway political power is.

Politicians have power over almost every aspect of our lives. In Maryland, they're telling private industry how much to spend on employee health care. They're working tirelessly to outlaw certain types of marriage. They force you to put money into a Ponzi scheme retirement system doomed to failure and they make it a crime for ailing Uncle Jorge to live in your house.

As long as politicians have their hand on your wallet, their eyes in your bedroom, their noses in your e-mail and their ear to your telephone, it matters who's pulling their strings. But limiting dinners to a Big Mac and a Diet Coke, or outlawing certain private-sector jobs for law-maker’s families, will only make the corrupt more creative.

Politics is about the accumulation of power. Lobbying is about helping politicians get what they want in exchange for a few scraps tossed from the legislative table. Making laws against that will be just as effective as laws against sodomy, gambling and prostitution. At its best, the war on lobbying might be every bit as successful as the war on drugs.

Moving toward a more Libertarian government can make lobbying regulations irrelevant. Who cares if lobbyists give a Washington fat cat Dom Perignon enemas, lobster-covered hookers and a weekly junkets to St. Andrews as long as the Constitution and the courts put our rights and freedom out of his unscrupulous reach.

Self-interest is natural and the driving force behind success. It only becomes a problem with it's fueled by authority over the rights of others.

Trying to legislate against self-interest is a Sisyphean exercise. Limit the power of politicians and you automatically limit corrupting influences.

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To Kill or Not to Kill Stanley "Tookie" Williams

I think there is a place in civilized society for the death penalty.

I also think Stanley "Tookie" Williams' death sentence should be commuted to life in prison.

I don't think the death penalty is a deterrent for murder, but it's a sure way to protect society from sociopaths who will prey on the innocent. Some lives are cancerous tumors on society and should be excised.

But once carried out, a death sentence is irreversible, so there can be no doubt that a person is guilty. I’m talking about a level of confidence that goes far beyond what it takes to convince a dozen white people that a big, ornery, unrepentant black man is a killer.

Circumstantial evidence and “witnesses” who cut deals to avoid lengthy prison sentences don’t do it for me. There’s no doubt that Williams was a bad man, and there may be enough evidence to convict him in a court of law. But I want more before I sanction a man’s death.

In the Williams case, friends of the prosecution say Williams has displayed no contrition, as though that is the criteria for clemency. Williams maintains his innocence. Expecting contrition is stupid.

Friends of the defense argue that Williams has been a positive influence since his conviction. He’s written several children’s books denouncing violence and gangs. He’s given phone conferences and spoken out against a life of gang crime.

Good for him, but if he brutally murdered four people in cold blood, I’m not inclined to feel any pity for him.

In fact, I don’t think this is about Williams at all. I don’t think compassion makes you weak, but I don’t think that’s the point. This issue is about us. Will killing this man best serve the community, the state and the nation?

I think not.

A state sanctioned execution may be just, but it isn’t necessarily right. Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should. Do we really need to dump more fuel on our nation’s racial fire? Do we really need years of international dialogue about whether Williams was actually guilty? Do we really want to bury Williams’ message of redemption and anti-violence along with him?

Protecting our tough-on-crime turf at the expense of social and civil evolution is no better than the credo of the Crips. The question of Williams’ clemency is what will make us a better, stronger society. If that means keeping a murderer alive, then we should do it.

Not for him, but for us.

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Heroes, Heroes Everywhere

A soldier is blown up by a road-side bomb; he’s hailed as a hero. A police officer is shot; he’s a hero. A school bus driver swerves to avoid a head-on collision and she’s instantly referred to as a hero. It seems that everyone who suffers a tragedy is a hero.

Enough.

Doing your job, the one you signed up for and have been trained for, is not heroic. Dying in the line of duty is tragic, sad and worth our sympathy and respect, but not necessarily heroic.

Heroes are those who go above and beyond expectations; people who knowingly put themselves on the line for something noble when they don’t have to. Heroes act out of conscience and a duty to something much more than the job.

A store clerk jumps into a lake to save a stranger from drowning, yeah, he’s a hero. He had no obligation and no training to risk his life for a stranger. Yet he did. That’s heroic.

NFL star Pat Tillman gave up millions to become a soldier and fight in Iraq. Inspirational perhaps, but not heroic. When he was killed by friendly fire, it was tragic and a terrible loss, but not heroic.

I used to be a firefighter. I respect them. I expect them to run into burning buildings. That’s their job, they know how to do it relatively safely and they love it. When a roof collapses and one dies, part of me dies too. But it doesn’t mean he was a hero.

The firefighters who died on 9/11 were not heroes just because they died. We should remember them and appreciate their sacrifice. They were courageous. I hope their families are cared for. We owe them a debt of gratitude. But they were not heroes because the building collapsed.

You want a hero? Rosa Parks. In 1955 the simple seamstress met centuries of oppression head on when she refused to give up her bus seat to a white man. At that time, Parks was risking her life with such an action in Montgomery, Alabama. She went to jail for her defiance. She changed America.

Rosa Parks is a hero. Let’s not diminish the word by calling every tragic death heroic.

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