Wednesday, November 30, 2011

MAN ON THE RUN


Move it, he said, there isn't much time.

So you stepped on the gas or walked a bit faster or hurried your phone conversation, and still arrived late for your next activity.

Faster, he said, only losers slow down.

So you worked late at the office or left the party early or rushed out of the house without kissing the kids goodbye, and still never made up for the time you lost.

Hurry up, he said, you'll miss your big opportunity.

So you took a second job working weekends or cheated in business or cancelled the family vacation, and still never found the opportunity you were looking for.

Skip the formalities, he said, you'll have time for that later.

So you forgot your anniversary or never showed up for parents night at school or stepped over a friend to better your position, and still found yourself dreaming about all the things you didn't have.

Don't slow down, he said, time grows shorter every minute.

So you pretended to stay young or cheated on your marriage or forgot to watch your children growing up, and still never found someone who could understand you.

Pick up your speed, he said, time's almost up.

So you grew bitter and resentful or left your family or started a list with everything the world owed you, and still grew older every day.

Final seconds, he said, last chance to make good.

So you looked around and wondered where all the time had gone or searched out those you had wronged or started making friends with priests, and still couldn't get his voice out of your head.

Move it, he said, you're running out of time.

And finally he was right.

You ran out of time.


Forgive me if this brief story has appeared before, but a friend of mine recently received bad medical news and this piece immediately came to mind. I run it as a reminder and gift to everyone, but especially for myself.

This story appears in “How To Train A Rock” by Paul Steven Stone
Copyright © 2009 Paul Steven Stone

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

The Church of Sacred Vampires Wants Your Vote

Heaven protect us!

It wasn’t enough that they abandoned thousands (literally thousands!) of young children to the sexual appetites of predatory priests, but now America’s Catholic Bishops feel they have the moral and spiritual obligation to tell the rest of us how we should behave—and vote!—to validate their right to dictate public morality and individual behavior.

Defending what they describe as their “Religious Liberty” they are campaigning and essentially joining forces with the largely Protestant right, aligning themselves with Republican presidential candidates, in order to combat federal regulations that support the equality of homosexuals, the distribution of contraceptives and the right of women to have abortions.

You don’t have to read between the lines to see the Bishops care more about the welfare of unborn children than the protection of real children in their care. Their protection was reserved for pedophile priests who feasted off the young and innocent like hungry vampires.

It’s a sorry state of affairs that the Bishops today are more interested in defending a discriminatory definition of marriage than the quickly crumbling social safety net that was once so critical to their mission of service. Where is the voice of moral indignation that once clamored for the rights of workers and justice for the poor? Why are these very same Bishops not standing alongside the victimized, non-violent warriors of the Occupy Movement? That’s where Jesus would be. Certainly, he would not be standing with those attempting to shut out “undesirable” segments of society from their rights and privileges. Nor would he have allowed deviant priests to move among children with impunity, quenching their sexual thirsts while destroying lives.

How strange that this enabler of pedophile priests, this destroyer of childhoods, this institution too-tightly-controlled by the corrupters themselves to ever really change, should tell others how to live their lives, how to vote, or what to think. What hypocrisy, what sham morality!

If the Bishops ever learn to see beyond the walls of their enclosed insular world, they would see humanity thirsting for an honest, moral voice to lead us out of the wilderness. And they would silence their cruelly divisive attacks for fear of drowning it out.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

FOR ALL THE LOVELY PEOPLE


Yesterday I looked around and realized there was only beauty and happiness in the world. Everybody had a home, two Mercedes and a signed Christmas card from George W. Bush.

Yesterday I looked around and realized I didn’t have to wait to go to heaven.

This is for all the lovely people,
This is for those with the Midas Touch,
This is for all the ones
Who never leave
Till they have too much,
I love all the lovely people.


Yesterday I looked around and realized there was no hunger in the world, and that poverty only existed in old newsreels and fiction. Everybody had quiche for breakfast and an American Express card for emergencies.

Yesterday I looked around and realized I was no longer just a man. I was a member of a club, and membership had its privileges.

This is for all the lovely people,
This is for summers at the shore,
This is for Donald Trump
Who never stops
Working at the pump,
God bless all the lovely people.


Yesterday I looked around and realized there was nobody in the world that needed my help. Everybody had more than enough love and every child knew just what they wanted for Christmas.

Yesterday I looked around and realized there was no reason to wait for the second coming. It couldn’t get any better than this.

This is for all the lovely people,
This is for People Magazine,
This is for all the ones
Whose private jets
Are always kept clean,
God loves all the lovely people.


Yesterday I looked around and realized there was nothing I had to do for anybody. Everybody had gotten exactly what they deserved from life and only deserved to get more.

Yesterday I looked around and realized I was the center of the universe.

Yesterday was a day like any other.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Anti-Bullying Video Wins Contest

Pardon me for blushing, but I'm proud to announce that "To You Who Are Different" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IJA-uxretY) was recently announced the winner of the Challenge Video Contest by the Massachusetts Aggression Reduction Center. If you haven't yet seen this powerful video, please check it out. It runs for less than 5 minutes but it packs a hell of a punch. The featured students from Randolph High School did an amazing job taking ownership of the video's message of tolerance and support for those who are different. "To You Who Are Different" was a joint enterprise of Mona Rosen, Sheara Seigal and yours truly. If you wish to download "To You Who Are Different" for showings by your school or group, go to: http://www.4shared.com/video/ktKDqdqP/To_You_Who_Are_Different.html

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The American Dream: An Update



Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.

“How’s it going?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to step on any sensitive toes.

“It's finally getting to me,” he answered. “It’s been over a year since I worked. And now my youngest, who I just finished paying for her college, lost her job and can’t find anything. She says there are no jobs.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I offered, starting to move off. But the American Dream grabbed my sleeve, arresting my departure.

“My son moved in with me,” he continued, the story beginning to gush out like a cataract. “Guess how much he owes from his college loans...”

“I don’t...”

“Guess,” he pushed, almost desperately. “I hear this figure in my head when I lie down to sleep at night. Guess—oh, hell, I’ll tell you—$240,000! Almost a quarter million dollars in college loan debt! ‘Who are you borrowing from, the mafia?’ I asked him. But he just kept saying, ‘Sorry, Dad.’

“A quarter of a million dollars; that’s a lot of money.” I opined.

“And it was compounding daily!”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I paid the debt down to $200K. Now my ex-wife and I pay off the interest each month, keeping it at $200K. But once my unemployment runs out, she and my son will be on their own.”

He ran his hands through his disheveled hair, causing me to comment, “You don’t look so good, you know?” And it was true. Ordinarily, the American Dream is a very buttoned down, upbeat guy; but this morning it looked as though he’d been up all night wrestling with a feverish lover or an unsolvable problem.

“The well’s almost empty,” he said through a dry mouth. “Unemployment’s running out, my savings are gone, my stock holdings, including my 401(k), are next to worthless, and my son, as I mentioned earlier, has moved back in with me and taken over my family room.”

“Well I have some good news,” I said happily. “I got a job! This is the last time you’ll see me hanging around these gloomy environs,” I added, giving a meaningful look around at the roomful of unemployed misfits and shirkers. “I’m back to a real paycheck starting next week.”

Doing what?” he asked, clearly trying to hide his envy.

“I’m a lobbyist,” I answered, feeling somewhat out of my comfort zone. Normally I don’t speak about my livelihood with someone who has the weakness of character to be out of work. No matter that we were friends or acquaintances. Not able to resist bragging, I added, “I’m a great lobbyist really! I only lost my previous job because of jealousy and my boss hated me. I used to lobby for “financial interests” such as banks, brokerage houses and lenders of all stripes. Hey, I was the one who lobbied to make it impossible for student debtors to declare bankruptcy on their student loans.”

“But my son...” the American Dream said, realizing the import of what I had just said.

“Yes, I lobbied for the bill that will ensure your son is in debt for most of his natural life. You and he are lucky. Had I had my way entirely—or my client’s way, really—the interest rates on his loans would rise automatically every fifth year. Republicans liked it, but they were worried; they’d just guaranteed the drug companies that the US government wouldn’t use its bargaining power to lower the price of drugs for the elderly. Didn’t want to be seen as giving away the store.

“Then there was my work against Wall Street Reform,” I continued, uncertain that the American Dream wished to hear about my dismantling any real financial reforms proposed by congress or the president.

“If it wasn’t for me,” I crowed, “People like you who by no fault of your own find yourselves broke, in debt and about to lose your homes, could have previously sued the banks, investment houses and hedge fund managers who turned your family’s home into a worthless investment vehicle. Now, you have to sue Bernie Madoff because he’s the only one taking any responsibility for screwing up our financial system.

“Too bad Bernie didn’t hire my lobbying firm before the pyramid collapsed. We could have gotten him an exemption in the ‘too big to fail’ category. Or something.”

Obviously uncomfortable with me talking about my past triumphs, the American Dream asked me about my new job and its responsibilities. “Is there anything you’re doing that you can be proud of?” he asked pointedly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I answered huffily. “I’m proud of everything I’ve done. Our system is set up so that everyone has freedom to participate. If the rich have more money to buy a larger slice, well that helps all of us; puts more money into the economy. At least into my economy!”

“You’re not answering the question,” he reminded me.

“My job is to help congress rewrite regulations,” I answered proudly. “All the new regulations and restrictions congress recently enacted are preventing jobs, business growth and other opportunities.” I explained. “As are all those environmental restrictions.”

“Wait a minute,” the American Dream said, seeming to suddenly awaken, as if from a dream. “Are you telling me that the Financial Sector, which caused our Economic Emergency because no one was watching them, now wants to use the Economic Emergency itself as an excuse to eliminate any rules or regulations they don’t like!”

“Exactly,” I said. “And I can be proud of playing a small role in that effort. I can also be proud of the small fortune I’ll get paid to do it.”

As the American Dream started to walk away, seemingly agitated, I called to him, "Where are you going?”

“For psychotherapy,” he answered sullenly. “All this crushing debt and relentless uncertainty is driving me crazy.”

“Word of advice,” I told him. “Sign up quickly. I’m working on a bill right now to drop that coverage from your health plan.”

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

KEEP ON SHAKIN' UP THE FREE WORLD!



Forgive me for sharing a rant I sent out yesterday to the Bagel Bards, but I’m very excited by the OCCUPY WALL STREET protests. What an appropriate response to a government that won’t investigate or indict ANYONE for the economic crash that destroyed so many lives and livelihoods, not to mention for two coup d’etats committed by the Republican party, one of which was abetted by the Supreme Court, or for an illegal war that killed thousands of innocent, non-aggressive citizens of foreign lands, or for the unbridled corruption, fraud and gross incompetence by vendors given billions in no-bid contracts to provide essentials for that illegal war or, and MOST CRIMINAL OF ALL, for committing acts of torture in the name of the people of the United States.

I voted for Obama and have been sorely disappointed. By choosing to selectively turn a blind eye to the crimes of the past 10 years, his administration has become a party to those crimes. The only one to get tried and imprisoned for his crimes was Bernie Madoff, who made the biggest mistake of all in this America of ours—he stole from the wealthy. Of course they gave him a 150 year sentence!

Keep those protests coming.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

CONFESSIONS OF A POLITICIAN


Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

“Tell me how you have sinned, my son?”

Lies, father. I have told lie after lie in pursuit of my personal gain. I have lied to my family, my friends, to thousands of people who desired nothing from me but the truth.”

“And when did you first enter politics, my son?”

“Many years ago, father, I was a mere child, an innocent. I believed in heroes. Believed in the power of being right and doing good works. I believed I could change things, could make a difference in the lives of the people I represented. I believed politics was much more than a bunch of self-important, privileged men dividing up the spoils of life-in-the-public-arena. I thought the system embraced everyone who had a stake in the outcome of every law considered and every vote taken. We had not yet been blessed by the work of the finest Supreme Court money could by, where every decision had been paid for and lobbied by billionaires and millionaires, who understandably believe they’re entitled to more representation than the single vote everyone else gets.”

“And when did you learn the truth, my son? When did you find out what a shmuck you’ve been?”

“In that first year, father. And how swift an education that was! No sooner was I sitting in a seat of elected power than I discovered how week and ineffective I was. I saw that power was most effective when it furthered its own ends rather than the needs of the voters. To get along in the world of politics one quickly learns to go along. To sleep with the ugly as well as the beautiful…Ha!

“Forgive the coarse example, father, but that’s what politics does to you…either you’re kissing a thousand asses and spreading your legs a thousand times a day for short dollars, or sleeping with an occasional millionaire now and again. What would you do, right? So, you start ‘Shtupping for Millionaires’ and you get your life back, and you stop feeling like a 24 hour fundraising prostitute.”

But I was speaking about…power. Do you know the secret of power, father? I’ll tell you. To become powerful, one simply hangs on to power longer than the next guy. To hang on longer than the next guys means forging strategic alliances with those who hold the power, even if it goes against the vested interests of your constituents, from whom you won’t hear anything for another two years, anyway. But like I said, power is most effective when it’s furthering its own ends. That was a simple lesson taught to all of us when we entered public office.

“But that seems so self-serving, my son. Surely there are those in public life who set their course with greater integrity and resolve?”

“Yes, father. They’re called one-term politicians.”

“This is all so very curious, my son.”

“Strange, father, it’s all so very strange. I’m constantly trying to understand how things could get so bad. When I first entered office, it was understood you weren’t to get caught breaking the law or stealing from the cookie jar. Everything was fair game, but you weren’t allowed to get caught. That was the cardinal rule. Steal from the poor, the blind, the crippled, but don't get caught.

“Nowadays, it seems that our government is in charge of payoffs for criminal deeds of catastrophic dimensions. The greedy son-of-bitches who brought down the financial system and triggered a worldwide recession are saved, kept in their jobs, and even allowed to collect bonuses, while the taxpayers pick up the tab.

“Just think, father, Halliburton and its subsidiaries are allowed to fraudulently overbill the US Army for shoddy work in IRAQ (How many soldiers were electrocuted in their poorly constructed showers?) and we just pay the bills.

“And, today, every one of those Grand Old Pigs whose political party ran us into an endless war in Iraq for no good reason, voted in tax cuts for yacht-owners, billionaires and oil company executives, and fathered a prescription drug benefit where the USA wasn’t allowed to use its buying power to lower prices (and, thus, decrease the deficit). If they’re so worried about deficits how could they have voted for renewing Bush’s Tax cuts for millionaires, father. How could they, I ask you that?”

“It is all a mystery to me, my son.”

“Yeah, me too, father. Me too. Like how could I have become a cynical and jaded politician so quickly? Without even noticing.! Oh, there was much truth in the promises I made, father. I intended to do as much as was humanly possible for my constituents; meant to deliver as many jobs, as many laws and, especially, as many government contracts for my constituents as I could.”

“So where are the lies you feel you must confess, my son?”

“It was all lies, father. There wasn’t one job, or law or one government contract I promised to deliver which I wouldn’t have sacrificed to help further my own position as an elected official. When everything you promise is secondary to feathering your own nest, you’re making promises to no one but yourself.

“I am impressed by your contrition, my son, is there not time for you to make things right?”

“How do you mean, father. By reciting sacred names or saying my rosary?”

“No, by following your conscience instead of your weaknesses. By pursuing a course of action dictated by what you have promised, and by what you believe.”

“A novel idea, father, but it would never work. You see, in the interest of getting elected, I have endeavored to be all things to all people. That, of course, meant taking stands on issues that offended the least number of eligible voters. We call that taking a ‘prudent’ approach to electioneering, so that hopefully you end up looking good to supporters on both sides of an issue. A good example is my stated position on welfare reform, father.

“Do you support it or oppose it, my son?”

“The question is, father, how can I both support and oppose it at the same time. That’s ‘prudent’ electioneering. The way it works, you develop simple answers to complex issues. Ask me my position on welfare reform, I’ll tell you I plan to seek reform without seeking retribution.

That answer, simple as it appears, will be interpreted by each side as providing a measure of my support, while ultimately requiring nothing from me except an occasional newspaper quote. The net result, of course, is a non-binding promise to do nothing.”

“I am beginning to see the problem, my son.”

“I have become a master of maintaining a ‘prudent’ approach to most issues, father. When it comes to conservation and land-use issues, I am for “responsible development” and “controlled growth.” Ask me my view on capital punishment and I’ll declare myself “morally opposed to the death penalty except under certain conditions.” Question my position on gun control and I’ll tell you the problem isn’t with criminals being too well armed, but with people like you and me being too poorly armed.”

“You are being unfair to yourself, my son.”

“You think so? Go ahead, ask me my stand on any issue!”

“Aid to Afghanistan?”

“I’ll support it, but only after the Afghanni’s put their house in order.”

“Continuing price supports for U.S. farmers?”

“I’ll vote to eliminate price supports as soon as we figure out a better way to level the playing field in the international market.”

“American corporations’ usage of child laborers in third world nations?”

“It’s outrageous, immoral and barbarous; but what gives us the right to dictate morality to the rest of the world?”

And tax cuts for the wealthy?”


Ah, yes. That’s the Million Dollar Queston, father, because the right answer will open the door to millions of dollars in campaign donations! Ask me my position on taxing the rich, so their obligations are commensurate with the privileges they enjoy as millionaires and billionaires., and I’ll agree that, “Yes, everyone should pay their fair share” but that “raising taxes now could jeopardize the entire economic recovery.“ I’ll say whatever I have to say to keep the public’s eye off the ball so they don’t figure out for themselves that these millionaires are getting away with murder.”

“Surely, you must have taken a firm stand on some issues, my son?”

“Absolutely, father. Those are the issues we politicians call “no brainers”, meaning you don’t need a brain to vote for tougher laws against child molesters, or for American independence from foreign-produced energy, or for a couple of hundred other issues that have nothing to do with the goals of your fellow politicians or the lives of your constituents back home.

“Well, my son, there doesn’t seem to be much that I can do for you, other than grant forgiveness for your sins.”

“That may be true or not, father. But tell me—only because I’m curious—are you a registered voter…?