Follow the Bouncing Ball

I have had inspirations for blog posts throughout the day today.

First, as I listened to snippets of the nonsense Dick Cheney spewed to his cult followers this morning, I thought I'd write something wondering why, after eight years of trying to ruin America, he won't just shut the hell up. But then I decided I didn't want to give the Big Dick any more air time (or in this case blog time).

So then, as I listened to a story on how South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford is going to sue the state legislature for trying to make him take the federal stimulus money (instead of, ya know, letting South Carolina schools get even farther down the list of America's worst because you have to cut their budgets even more), I thought about writing something about how crazy South Carolina politics are, and how it makes me glad I don't live there anymore.

But then I listened to all the mess with the investigation of former North Carolina governor Mike Easley, which reminded me of all the scandals that have happened here since I returned to Charlotte five years ago, and I remember that North Carolina politics are just as crazy.

So I turned back to national politics, and thought about writing about how spineless the Democratic legislators are for taking a "not in my backyard" position over the Guantanamo Bay detainees. I mean, sure, we can get on our high horse and talk about how it's unconstitutional and goes against everything that makes America unique to torture people and hold them against their will without giving them a fair trial, but if you want them to come to my state, hell no, they're too dangerous for U.S. courts and prisons. Never mind the fact that our prisons have held the likes of Charles Manson, Ted Bundy and Timothy McVeigh. And some crazy nut I saw a clip of on The Daily Show talking about taking a guy's brain out and eating it.

And what really gets me is how they talk about turning "dangerous terrorists" loose in the United States--but if none of these guys has ever had a chance to be tried in court to prove whether they are guilty or not, how do we even know they are terrorists? And maybe not just some guys who got rounded up by a country that temporarily let itself be ruled by fear instead of morality and justice, simply on the basis of their ethnicity or religion? The likes of the aforementioned Big Dick would like you to believe a slightly prettied-up version of this: We are in extraordinary times and they require extraordinary measures. Translate extraordinary measures to mean torture, wrongful imprisonment, illegal wiretaps, whatever it takes. Sound familiar? We were in pretty extraordinary times during World War II, and a lot of innocent Japanese-Americans paid the price in internment camps, which most Americans now look back on with shame. Aren't the Republicans the ones who are supposed to cherish individual freedom so much? Or is that only true for non-Muslims?

So I was going to write about the spineless Democrats who caved to politics instead of standing up and saying "we can do better." But the truth, I don't have the stomach for it. How can it be so hard to understand that there is a right way to treat people and a wrong way?

Since I don't want to give Big Dick more publicity, and I can't talk about leaving crazy South Carolina politics because I still have crazy North Carolina politics to deal with, and I don't have the stomach for the spineless Dems, I will blog about the mundane, everyday things of life.

Here goes. I love my dogs. They help me remember what is right with the world. On Monday Alex had his teeth cleaned, for which they put him under anesthetic. When I brought him home, he was all sleepy and pitiful, with a bandage where his IV site had been. After I got him settled onto a nice soft blanket on the living room floor and then convinced Abby that it wasn't really a good time to wrestle with her brother, I laid down on the floor beside him to snuggle. He was too sleepy to snuggle back, but as I leaned in to pet him, I hear a soft "thump, thump, thump" of his tail wagging, ever so slowly. By this time, Abby finally had the idea, and had curled up beside him to take care of her big bro. It's good to be loved.