Which way do we swing, if we swing together at all?

     One of the less attractive traits of humanity is how fast the pack mentality takes over when a little malice is introduced.
     Trolls are the electronic version of the dog pack.
     Only an alpha dog will move in and risk getting hurt when it attacks a prey, but any old coward in the pack will sneak in and bite once the quarry is down, or on the run.
     You see it all the time among teens, because they're not quite grown up but they've lost most of their innocence. In order to be a part of some crowd, they'll join in to find their place in the pecking order if another teen becomes the target of exclusion or ridicule. It can escalate into actual physical violence, but the psychological damage can be enough to change lives.
     Most religions teach some variation of compassion for the downtrodden, but compassion is the first to go among the low in self-esteem, the greedy, the narcissistic and the downright mean-spirited.
     A man I respect passed along an email prior to the election that I passed along in turn. It made the point that regardless of the names of those running for particular offices, the real candidates are followers on one of two philosophies: Adam Smith, who said government has a duty to help the less fortunate, or Ayn Rand, who proselytized that only the strong and ruthless should survive. Smith saw a Higher Being as work in us; Rand sneered at the idea of Godliness.
      Selfless or selfish. Close, but souls apart in definition.
      I remain convinced that the public conscience will swing back to some degree of moderation between those two extremes -- but that presupposes that we are, collectively, more like Smith and less like Rand, who did not even acknowledge any virtue in collectiveness, which includes, I suppose, elections.

Too much information, not enough comprehension

     Ben Bradlee died this week. He was one of the kings of what we once knew as journalism. He made sure that two frisky young reporters got their facts right -- well, mostly right -- before he allowed them to put the credibility of the Washington Post on the line to run stories that would eventually lead to the resignation of a President.
     Like most good editors, he would send the story back to the reporters and say, "You need more facts."
    Yeah, we actually used to do that. Try to get it right.
    Now you can get your news in more ways more often from more sources than any time in history.
     But that doesn't mean you will be any better informed. In fact, you may just be more confused, because the purveyors of information have fewer gatekeepers, editors, challengers and -- in many cases, ethics -- than before.
     Anybody can write or say anything about anything or anyone at any time, all the time, any where, and not even have to put their name on it, and people will read it.
     The wilder it is, the more some will believe it, and even those who are skeptical will still pass it on with a keystroke to others on their email list.
     I liked it better when you had to sign your name -- your real name, not some fantasy tag -- to what you purport to be a statement of fact.
     As for responsibility or ethics, the only justification needed for slander or an outright lie is, "I'm entitled to my opinion."
     Of course you are, but sign your name to it.
     I'm not convinced that even that would put the genie back in the bottle in this, the Misinformation Age.
    It's bad enough to be ignorant, but it's worse to be proud of it. Ignorance plus pride is enough to begin a new political cult.
    Maybe it's just the thing for a population that seems to believe in little besides winning an argument.
   
    

It's in the news ......

    FENCE JUMPERS

     Another guy jumps the White House fence.
     Note to fence-jumpers: The Secret Service has been embarrassed and is ticked off, and they have dogs. Do not jump the White House fence.
     Go jump the fence at the nearest maximum security facility. You'll know it by the razor wire. Jump in and see what a real challenge is like....

     As for why the story about the original jumper changed over several days, my theory is that like everything else, the SS now has marketing people who want to weigh in and make sure the best image is put out there. It would be impolitic to mention that the guy got as far as he did unless it could be no longer denied.
     Then they had to deal with the fact that an agent did encounter the trespasser, but was overcome by the bad guy.
     Then they had to admit the agent that was overcome was female, which someone might consider a politically incorrect topic.
     So they got more dogs.

     Maybe the Homeland Security folks could guard the fence at the White House and pretend that the jumpers are trying to board an airplane to go to Disneyworld.
     And put bomb-sniffing dogs at the airports.

 A ROSE IS A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME
   
  Polls in Kentucky show that most state residents hate "Obamacare" but they love the state's new health care plan. When it was disclosed that the state health care plan IS "Obamacare" by another name, there was silence from the Right.
     The same silence you hear when it is pointed out that "Obamacare" is really Romneycare -- former GOP presidential candidate who pushed the health plan through Massachusetts when he was governor. Same plan, essentially, different name.
     These people vote.

SERIOUSLY?
 
  More people will die because parents refuse to have their kids inoculated against measles, whooping cough and other "old" diseases than will die because of the ebola virus -- even in Africa.
The story made the news once or twice, backed up by science and officialdom, but the media continues to scream headlines about another person with a fever passing through an airport near you.
      To regain your perspective, if not your sanity, read a good book for a day or so.

WE LEAD BY EXAMPLE

   A shooter gets into the government house in Canada and people in that country can't imagine how it could happen there. They had only five murders in Ottawa in the past year.
     Here in the U. S. we might be at the point where we have forgotten the name of another school shot up this week in -- where was it this time?

The image reflects the message

     Just about the time I think this board of commissioners cannot stoop to a new low, they prove me wrong.
     Previous commissioners and candidates for office have let it be known they do not support the expansion of mass transit to and from the Baltimore area. But this is the first time I know of that they have tried to make it official.
    It's one of the questions I got when I ran: Will you keep us out of the Baltimore metro plans for mass transit? The implication is that if you build it THEY will come.
   You know, Those People.
   We have this image around the state for being a bit of an isolationist county. Many new residents have even said, in effect, now that they have moved to Carroll County, you can burn the bridges and pull up the drawbridge and make sure the moat around us if filled with alligators -- or the NRA.
   It's so prevalent that the working title for my novel, What Price Eden, was Fortress County. That was a term that I used in remarks before the metropolitan transportation council in Baltimore as a new commissioner back in 2003 or '04.
    They were surprised I attended. A few said the only thing they heard from Carroll County was NO when it came to working with other metro area counties on long-term plans for the future of commuting to and from jobs in the Baltimore/DC corridor. Or for workers to get to jobs in Carroll County.
    I ran into a young African American woman at the University of Maryland who said she turned down a great job offer from Western Maryland (the name of McDaniel at the time) because everybody she knew said this was Klan country.
    A young black student who interned for me when I was editor of a local paper turned down my offer of a job for the same reason -- and he grew up here.
    I know, I know, it's not the color, it's the criminal element that locals want to keep out. We're not racists, right?
    When I hear someone say that a rail line or bus routes bring criminals to rob us and then return to Baltimore, I point out that most of the criminal charges I see in the paper are filed against locals, and they're white and under-educated and virtually unemployable. Many are drug addicts.
    We have an image problem.
    When you're looking in the mirror before leaving for that job in Hunt Valley or Howard County, consider that the nice outfit or hairdo is what you see, but others see something else.
    Your elected officials are the face of all of us around the state. Their words are how we are known.

Ferguson story is a lesson to us all

   Only about 12 percent of the registered voters in Ferguson, MO., voted in their last election.
   Now, after who knows how many trumped up charges that produce fines to keep tax rates down in the suburban St. Louis community, and the death of a young black man -- some would say another death of a young black man -- people have taken to the street to demand more say in how the town is run.
   Good for them. Take charge of your own town, send the bad cops packing, change the leadership, participate, campaign, debate, get engaged, back a plan and vote. Then stay up on things and speak out, write letters to the editor or, if you have to, start your own news letter and walk copies door to door.
   Better that walking down the street after the disaster.
    Then all the spectators, including the gluttonous media, can go find another source of entertainment.
    If you think it can't happen where you live, sit back, don't give a hoot who runs for office or how those who do administer everything from public contracts to public safety, and you, too, can become a victim of those who will step into any situation that can be exploited for their own power and wealth.

You need to wonder who said what

     I saw a letter to the editor the other day that praised the virtues of an incumbent county commissioner in ways that suggests the politician has influenced the writer to the extent that you might wonder who wrote it.
     It starts off with an assertion -- the commissioner is very assertive; obnoxiously so, in my opinion -- that what follows are irrefutable facts. It continues in the way of engineers and other linear thinkers to set forth opinions.
    Also, like the politician to which the facts are attributed, it sets forth the opinions in numerical list form. First, Second, Third -- like that.
    Also, the facts are stated in such a way as to discredit not only the position of an adversary, but the critic, in a personal way.
    It's classic propaganda speak, such as has elevated this politician and made him the darling of shallow thinking followers (see how that works? That's a sample of what I said in the previous sentence, but at least I'm not being devious about it).
    You've noticed I have not mentioned the name of the politician -- or the writer defending him. The letter writer, assuming he wrote the letter, was exercising his right to freedom of speech. As for the subject of all this, I prefer to quote Samuel Johnson, who said, "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

Too many choices add to life's stress

   I am in the toothpaste aisle of the grocery store having a meltdown moment.
   All I want is a toothbrush. Simple hand-held thing with bristles that you shove around inside your chow-funnel to clean the debris and keep the dentist from lecturing you at your next scheduled cleaning.
   I have a coupon that I clipped out of the Sunday paper. Sensodyne toothbrush, so much off, and I don't even have to buy three.
   But I have run into a wall of toothbrush choices, and I am paralyzed by indecision.
   Do I want hard, medium or soft bristles? Pick-tip, whatever that means?
   Remember when all you had to do was choose between red, white, green or blue?
   Now they come with racing stripes. More color combinations on one toothbrush than a car painted in a Tijuana chop shop.
    Do I want a battery powered, electrified, or manual shift?
    I can have a Wave, a Zig-Zag, flat-head, tapered, gum-massager, side-picker, over the shoulder, upside down, inside out -- the choices are endless.
    And I can have the store brand, two or other off-brands, an Oral B or anything except, it seems, the Sensodyne for which I have a coupon.
    Let's move on to the case where they sell ice, where I have a choice between a big bag or a small one, with large cubes or cocktail crush.
    Which reminds me that  a scotch would go well right now.

Post office doors sound like the inner sanctum

    You can actually hear the effects of government budget cuts as you enter the Westminster Post Office.
     Push the button and the automatic doors slowly, grudgingly, moaning and groaning, screeching and dragging will open to allow you entry to -- well, there was a radio show back in the day called, The Inner Sanctum, and it was designed to scare the pants off listeners.
     That's what the post office sounds like -- The Inner Sanctum.  All we need is the voice of a zombie saying, "Welcome...to the inner sanctum. Beware, all who enter here!"
     What I wonder is, how do the postal employees stand it, hearing the screeeeeech, ssshhhhh, klunkkkity screech every time the doors open. Then the patrons leave, and it's like, all over again.
     Some scientists out there say that repeated exposure to loud noise can make people crazy -- that's not a recognized medical translation, but you know what I mean.
     If certain people I know of worked there, they would fix the doors. They'd have to, because somebody -- not me, myself, you understand -- would sacrifice an old truck to create a drive in situation about 3 a.m.
     What would happen if a thousand letters showed up on elected officials' desks containing a recording of the noise at the PO? With an invitation to spend a day greeting constituents just inside?
    Somebody would grease something, you can betcha.

Griping about baseball's drift

   If I sound a little befuddled it's because I am trying to stay up late to watch the baseball playoffs.
   If God wanted baseball games to run four hours plus, He would have called it golf.
   Four minutes for commercials and network hype between every half inning adds up to the average length of a baseball game in the 1950s, the last time the game was true blue.
   I like watching baseball, but there is no way I could sit in a ballpark seat for four hours. And no way I could stand in line to use the bathrooms every two innings.
   At home, I can nap during the 45 pitches that get fouled off on a 3-2 count, get a snack up in the kitchen, make a soda pop run to the fridge in the garage, make a potty break and if I miss anything, I can catch the play on one of the 23 replays they will run over the next five minutes (except during commercials; they never run replays during commercials).
   While I'm grumping, can I just say the game would also be faster if players were not allowed to wear batting gloves and various forms of body armor at the plate? It wouldn't be so bad if they'd just show up with the batting gloves, but they have to adjust the gloves, both of them, after every pitch, which requires that they step out of the batting box, look around, fidget, and do it all over again.
   Then they also have to adjust their shin protector, elbow or bicep protector, and whatever other protector that they deem out of place before the pitcher gets the sign for the next pitch. By that time, I'm thinking about getting into my Doctor Dentons.
   I'm not finished: Can we leave our jewelry collection at home, please? If you wear the good stuff on the ball field, what do you have left for the Grand Ball?
   And it's not Halloween all year, so get rid of the lumberjack beards, buccaneer moustaches and  pirate tattoos.
   It's a ball game, not a costume party.

Artwork speaks to values that are for sale

     Some politico once said of opponents on a spending bill in the legislature, "They're voting against it now, but when the ribbon-cutting takes place, they'll be in the front of the line for pictures."
     That was the truest thing I ever heard a politician say. But exceptions test the rule.
     Case in point was the occasion of the unveiling of Toby Mendez' magnificent addition to the Mary Lou Dewey Sculpture Park at the Westminster branch of the Carroll County Library Friday.
     During the "speechifying" part of the public reception, some the usual political suspects were there, representing state, county and city government, but his colleagues left it to District 3 representative Dave Roush to speak for the board of commissioners. Commissioner Doug Howard stood to the side, but at least he showed up. Robin Frazier and Richard Rothschild did not. They'd probably tell you that this was happening in Roush's district, but that didn't keep them from horning in on meetings that Haven Shoemaker and Howard were having in their districts when there was an opportunity to pound on a podium for less spending, less gov'mint.
     Roush said nice things about the library and the dedicated people who work there, and about how the Main Street location was good for business and the overall community, and how it was an example of what you have when volunteers work together.
   Then Sandy Oxx, executive director of the Carroll Arts Council and vice chair of the state arts council, brought a check for $5,000, made possible by Gov. Martin O'Malley and the state legislature, which is dominated by -- shhhhh -- Democrats.
    Money talks, that other stuff walks.
    But a good library system, like a school system and recreational programs, and fire and emergency services, police and courts, and programs for senior citizens -- they all require public money, in addition to what is provided by donors and volunteers. And that's a sticky subject for any member of the current board of commissioners.
    They talk the conservative talk, which is the other stuff, but money is required for the quality of life we like to take pride in around here.
    It's easy in a county full of libertarians posing as Republicans to talk about less government; most of us don't want big government, but we like our government services, and our government supported programs. It's the money spent on what other people find important that irritates us.
    Go take a look at the heritage of the county as it was frozen in bronze so very well by Toby Mendez. It tells part of our story: The rural legacy depicted by farmers with a mule team taking in the hay.
     Nice to hold that in reverence, but our children will be needing good schools. And we will all need more and better means of transporting a growing population that has bought into housing developments where the hayfields were.
     As the sculptor says, he was looking for a thread that speaks to our values and heritage. The agricultural heritage of those farmers depicted in his bronze is under pressure from some so-called "business friendly, property rights" advocates who would sell it all for power and profits benefitting a privileged few.
   
   

I wish they'd stop telling me I have no worries

  They keep telling me I have no chance of getting ebola.
  I want to believe it. I did believe it. Until they kept telling me that I had no chance of getting ebola. Now, I wonder.
   That tells you something about how much faith we have in the media. Or the government. Both.
   My common sense tells me that my life is threatened more by a neighbor texting while driving or by a lab attendant who is on the cell phone while labeling my samples.
   But when it comes to the dark stuff, like pandemics, we drop all common sense and become the kind of people you see on those reality TV shows. You know: Mud-diving tattooed chicks with guns.
   I know the odds are that the chicken salad I will eat tomorrow is more of a threat than the Islamic terrorists who hide bombs in their underwear to blow up airplanes so they can meet virgins in the afterlife. (My questions is, if you have a bomb in your drawers on your way to meet a virgin, what are the chances for a happy date?)
   But there I go, mixing logic with paranoia. Call me your average American middle class white guy.

Not starting over, but adding chapters

Oct. 7, 2014
        


            This is my first posting on this blog since Sept. 30, 2012, when it was sabotaged by people who do not want you to know what they do and how they do it.   Since then, I have been busy writing a weekly column for the Carroll County Times, short stories, essays, and for the past few months, a novel -- What Price Eden -- about the consequences of giving up our public policy decisions to those who would exploit people, land, your rights and the future of our country -- locally and nationally -- for their own personal gain and power.
              It's an old theme; as old as the bible stories of men and tribes warring over who owns the land, who makes decisions, who God loves most.
              I will continue to write newspaper columns as long as there is a newspaper willing to run them, and I will supplement what appears in those in this space whenever I have something to post -- it may be daily, or it could be sporadic. I also plan to write more stories and novels because only in fiction can you leave the press agents behind and get down to basic truths about the spectrum of human behaviors that affect everything from our personal wealth and safety to what kind of lives out grandchildren will have because of what we know, what we stand for, and how we want to be remembered by history.