What I Don't Want to Pay For

Some conservatives are blocking the health reform bill because some government money might be used for abortions. It’s a short-sighted position, not least because statistics show that countries that offer guaranteed health care that includes coverage for abortions have a much lower rate of abortion than we do here. That means that giving people universal health coverage does more to reduce abortions than not giving them that coverage because they might use that coverage for abortions.

But all of this has gotten me thinking about what I don’t want my tax dollars to be used for. For example, Viagra. Hey, if women can pay for their own abortions, men can pay for their own erections. Bet that wouldn’t get through Congress.

A few other things I’d rather not support:

• Pre-emptive war
• Faith-based anything
• Medicare charges that are way out of line, just because they can be
• Hundred-dollar hammers for the military
• Fancy offices for government officials
• Bailouts for financial institutions that pay bonuses to their employees, no matter how well they perform
• Social security for multi-millionaires
• Subsidies to big agribusiness
• Earmarks like the infamous “bridge to nowhere”

I’m sure this list would be much longer if I knew how all of the dollars that disappear from my paycheck are spent on my behalf.

I am not interested in shooting anything but a camera.

As I’ve listened to news stories this week about the gun case being argued before the Supreme Court, I’ve been immensely dismayed to hear what some of my fellow Americans have to say about guns and gun ownership. Aside from target shooting or bagging Bambi for dinner, I wish nobody owned anything more powerful than a BB gun.

To my mind, a handgun is essentially a device designed and manufactured to kill other people. And it makes it so easy to do it. Lose your temper and blow someone away. Forget to lock your gun cabinet and your kid shoots another kid — or himself — by accident. Hold up a convenience store and shoot the clerk who refuses to open the cash drawer. Kill the teenage mischief-maker who breaks into your garage, looking for beer.

With a gun, it takes a millisecond to remove the obstacle that stands between you and whatever it is you want. Unfortunately, that obstacle is often another person.

I don’t believe that “guns don’t kill people, people kill people.” People with guns kill people. We can get rid of the people or we can get rid of the guns. I vote for getting rid of the guns. And then I can go to national parks again.

Some gun owners don’t trust the government. I don’t trust people with guns.

Dope Slap

I am fed up. I wish I could give all of the idiots in Washington and in “fly-over country” a big dope slap. All of them. The prissy, pissy Republicans (whack!) and the groveling independents (whack!) and the unfortunate, disorganized, discombobulated Democrats, who squandered a rare opportunity (whack!).

And let's not forget Sarah Palin and the Tea Party folks, too (whack! whack! whack!). And Senate candidate Martha Coakley (whack!).

• • •

In the 1950s, my grandmother served in the Connecticut State Legislature. When she was in her late 80s, I brought a friend of mine to meet her. As I made the introductions, I mentioned that she had been in politics. She drew herself up straight and rather starchily said, “Government, dear. I was in Government.”

She understood the difference.

They've done it again.

The Democrats have done it again. Amazing how they managed to choose a candidate for Teddy’s seat who was so “Kerry for President”-esque. Martha Coakley had all of the advantages going into this thing, but, as it turned out, she was tone-deaf, seemed remarkably cold-hearted, and is a terrible campaigner.

Jon Stewart made the point the other night that George W. Bush was able to do pretty much whatever he pleased, even though he did not have a filibuster-proof majority supporting him in the Senate—far from it, in fact. The Democrats just can’t get out of their own way. Remember Nancy Reagan’s anti-drug message in the 80s -- “Just Say No”? The Republicans have extended that, very successfully, into anti-everything.

I find those shiny, well-groomed, hard-edged Republican pols and their toadies at Fox News to be so entirely and universally repellent. They’re like mass-produced gingerbread men (and a few women), nearly identical and in lockstep. They seem nearly Swiss in affect – but without the good chocolate. They make their politics look so tidy because there’s only one note: No.

The Dems, on the other hand, are an unkempt bunch, hard to define and even harder to organize. They can’t figure out how to pull together as a party, because they are so busy being, well, sort of French. Dramatic, emotional, each going their own way, wanting to be seen for who they are as individuals, a cacaphony of passions, intentions, and purposes. That’s no way to run a party, and, unfortunately, no way to win elections – or people’s hearts.

At the end of the day, it just slays me that the people who are most passionately for the Republicans are the ones who get screwed by them the most. And it seems so easy to get that constituency to believe whatever they are told, from death panels to the evils of socialism to the old “Democrats are soft on terrorism” crap. I’ve said it before: people are addicted to fear, and the Republicans serve it up again and again.

….

So, pretty boy Scott Brown wins and takes health care reform down with him. Sigh. Well, maybe the Dems will sort a few things out. As for me, I see a future in which Scott Brown and Sarah Palin get married (after they both first get divorced, of course) and create beautiful babies and bad policy together. God help us all.

'Nuff Said

Taking Care of the Livestock First

There's an old rule of thumb in farming: take care of the livestock first. Whether it's feeding, tending to, or providing shelter in a storm, seeing to the animals' needs before one's own is no doubt good farming practice, protecting one's investment and livelihood. It's also our responsibility as their caretakers, something we chose when we adopted or acquired them, a decision they had no part of. That responsibility doesn't stop when the animals get old or infirm. Much as we'd like to hold onto them forever--to make time stop--there's a point at which keeping an animal alive becomes more about us and our needs than about them and theirs.

Verlyn Klinkenborg has a piece in the Times today about making the hard decision to put a beloved dog down. It's an eloquent articulation of all that I believe to be the right course in such things, as heart-wrenching as it may be.

• • •

It reminded me of a wonderful story by David Updike, written in 1978 when he was still in college, "Out on the Marsh." It's a reflection by a young man at 21 about the passing of time, illuminated by his sudden awareness that his dog, Mtoti, has gotten on in years. Here's the last paragraph:

I had been out on the marsh for several hours that day, and Mtoti was tired and followed a few feet behind me. I turned to him and ran backwards, clapping my hands, calling his name, and he worked himself into a run. On the lawn we stopped, and I bent down to hug him. In the afternoon light, I could see that the gray flecks on his muzzle had gone to white, and I realized that he had drifted into old age without my having noticed. I have thought of him all these years as my peer, but it is only now, in the blue light of spring, that I realize he has grown old without me.

Getting on the Other Side

Some years ago, a friend of mine was struggling to manage her new horse, a somewhat feisty Argentinian polo pony. It was a challenge for her to overcome her fears and ride the horse with the confidence it required. She rode for a while with a local trainer, a born-and-bred horseman, nearly Midwestern in his approach to horses. He took everything in stride and remained both calm and patient when working with difficult horses.

At one point, when she was frustrated and expressing her doubts, he looked at her and said, “You’ve just got to get on the other side of that horse.”

In addition to being good advice, it’s a great concept. There is, I have found, a tipping point at which nearly every formerly insurmountable problem becomes manageable. Reaching that point requires patience, determination, and a commitment to hang in there until the thing sorts itself out, one way or another.

. . .

I started last summer wondering if Wolfie and I would ever form a workable partnership. He was spooky, I was nervous; not a good recipe for success. But I stayed with it, and rode nearly every day, alone and in company. I rode through spooks and shies, calmed my butterflies, and just kept at it, even on days when I just didn't feel up to it.

By the end of the summer, we had made great strides together: he doesn’t spook at everything now, his spooks are smaller, and I just ride them out and keep on going. No more butterflies. We’re both calmer and our rides are a lot more fun.

I figure I got on the other side of that horse. And I think he probably got on the other side of me.