Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

I think…therefore I’m dangerous.

Support Our Troops

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Some rants regarding yellow ribbons.

They started appearing about a year ago on cars, vans, and trucks all over the U.S., just about the same time the flags finally disappeared. Those “yellow ribbon” stickers or, in some cases, magnets. You know the kind. They look like a looped yellow ribbon and most of them say “Support Our Troops.” Some variations include the red, white, and blue models, some of which include stars and stripes. They’re all over the place and frankly, it bugs me.

Why does it bug me? Well, let’s take a moment to think about yellow ribbons and what they represent. The first historical reference to yellow ribbons that I can think of was in the pop song from the 70s, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon” by Tony Orlando and Dawn. The song was the tale of an inmate who was soon to be released. He was writing to his girlfriend, wanting to know if she still loved him. He instructed her to:

“Tie a yellow ribbon

’round the old oak tree

It’s been three long years,

do you still want me?”

(You can get all the lyrics here.)

In this instance, the yellow ribbon was used as a signal to tell him whether he was still wanted at home, whether he should bother getting off the bus. The song has a happy ending. Not only is there one yellow ribbon there, but there’s a hundred yellow ribbons. She evidently really wanted him back.

Move forward a few years. In November 1979, Iranian militants storm the U.S. Embassy in Terhan and take about 70 Americans hostage. The “Iranian Hostage Crisis,” as it came to be known, lasts 444 days. During that time, Penelope Laingen, the wife of one of the hostages, tied a yellow ribbon around a tree at her home. Like ribbon in the song, Mrs. Laingen’s ribbon expressed her desire to have her husband come home. Soon there were yellow ribbons on trees all over the country. The ribbons stayed up until the hostages were released.

Now here’s my beef. In both of these instances, the yellow ribbon signifies a desire to bring someone who is away back home where he/she is loved and wanted. Support our troops was not the message.

I get angry when I see those ribbons. To me, they’re just another sign of the American public’s “follow the leader” mentality. Some marketing genius decided that yellow ribbon stickers that say “Support Our Troops” could sell. Some people bought them. Other people said, “Hey, I want to support the troops, too. I’ll buy a yellow ribbon and put it on my minivan.” Thus, a movement based on some money-making scheme is born. And the American public is too ignorant to realize that the symbol of the yellow ribbon has nothing to do with supporting troops.

The Chinese manufacturers of these ribbons are laughing all the way to the bank.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. In researching this entry, I stumbled across this article with comments. Could it be that I’m actually part of a group of people who think the same way? Wow.

What does a yellow ribbon mean to me? Bring our troops home. Those people are risking (and losing) their lives to fight an illegitimate war, one that we have no business fighting. Bring them home. If I had a yellow ribbon on my car, that’s what it would say. Unfortunately, you can’t buy a ribbon with that message. It isn’t a popular message and it just won’t sell.

The president’s efforts to impose a democratic government on the people of Iraq isn’t any more right than the old Soviet Union forcing communism among neighboring countries. Yes, we Americans believe in democracy and it seems to work for us, but is it right for all countries? Is it right for us to force it on a country that might not be ready for it? And while we’re discussing what’s right and wrong, is it right for us to promote women’s rights in a country where women have a traditional role that is often reinforced by religion?

Why are we trying to turn Iraqis into Americans? This absolutely reeks of what the “missionaries” did in Africa and South America, converting indigenous people into Christians when they were perfectly happy with their own religious beliefs. But rather than religion, we’re pushing politics. Oddly enough, the biggest supporters of this war are the conservative “Christians” that backed George W. Bush in last year’s election. Is there another agenda? One that goes beyond politics? What will be we pushing next?

I’m American and I’m patriotic. If an invading force came into this country and tried to make us change, I’d be one of the people with a stockpile of weapons, fighting to drive out or kill the invaders. But I can’t support a war that I feel was waged as a poorly planned publicity stunt. And I won’t be putting a “Support Our Troops” yellow ribbon on any of my cars.

But do you want to know what bothers me most about the yellow ribbons? It’s that some of them are magnetic. That means they can be easily removed when this war is over, stored in a safe place, and reapplied when the next war starts. Now that’s thinking ahead.

September 27, 2011 Update: Unfortunately, this blog post — which is SIX YEARS OLD, for Pete’s sake! — was linked to on a conspiracy theory Web site. Inappropriate comments have begun to be submitted. Rather than waste my day moderating this kind of silliness, I’ve shut down comments. Move along folks, there’s nothing new to see here.

People are Pigs

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A tenant moves out and I am amazed by the way some people live.

She was not the perfect tenant. She often paid her rent late and always seemed to have some excuse involving a health problem. Yet there was a brand new car in her driveway this year, a hot tub in the backyard, and I often saw her going into the tanning salon. Obviously, her priorities were screwed up.

But she never complained about things being broken or asked us to come fix something for her. There may be two reasons for this, as I learned yesterday. Either she never used anything (like the stove) or she had everything fixed herself, just so I wouldn’t have to come into the house.

I didn’t bother her. I’m not the kind of person to snoop on my tenants. They have their lives, I have mine. Pay rent on time and I’ll leave you alone. Pay rent late and I’ll charge a late fee and leave you alone. I got a lot of late fees out of Lisa. But probably not enough to cover the damage she did to my house.

The house is a two bedroom, two bath house that shares a triple lot with a small apartment building I also own. (The apartment building contains four fully furnished studios.) It’s actually quite a nice little house, with a big, long room that comprises the living room, dining area, and kitchen and two smaller rooms, each with their own bath. The kitchen is full of cabinets and has a nice pantry. I didn’t recall there being a dishwasher, but yesterday I saw a portable dishwasher rolled to one side.

Destroyed RugsLisa and her teenage son and their dog(s) trashed the place. First of all, it appears that either Lisa didn’t own a vacuum cleaner or she didn’t know how to use one. I’ve never seen dust bunnies as large as the ones on that living room carpet. But it doesn’t really matter that much. Their dog(s) had done a real number on the carpet. Evidently Lisa decided to keep the backyard clean by letting her dog shit in the house. On the carpet. Although the carpet hadn’t been in great condition when she moved in, at least it was clean. Now it’s ready for the trash heap. And the house reeks of animal smell. Fortunately, the kitchen floor, which I’d replaced before she moved in, survived her abuse. The back bedroom’s carpet, which was also new when she moved in three and a half years ago, may be salvageable. It depends on how often the dog visited Lisa’s son.

Checkerboard WallLisa’s son is obviously a decorator-in-training. He gave each wall in his bedroom a different paint scheme. The big wall is now a black and white checkerboard, with squares about 12 inches on each side. The back wall is painted dark red with playing cards tacked up onto it. And the other big wall looks as if it were the victim of an experiment with squeeze bottles of paint. Oh, and I almost forgot about the shiny CDs tacked neatly onto the entire ceiling. They also neglected to remove much of their kitchen trash. The pantry is half full of food and garbage. The cabinets have McDonald’s catsup packets and related fast-food paraphernalia in them. The refrigerator is partially stocked with groceries.

Destroyed WallMy cleaning woman, who is due to arrive at the house at 8 AM today, will probably have a heart attack and die on the spot when she sees the mess she faces. The carpet cleaning guy already told me there isn’t much he can do. The painter will have a good laugh over the checkerboard, right before telling me that it’ll need three coats of paint to cover up. And I’m just praying that the place isn’t as big as it looks when the carpet replacement people come to measure. The cheapest carpet available in town is $17.50 per yard installed.

And Lisa? Disappeared. She left no forwarding address; I’m sure she realizes she’ll never see a cent of her security deposit. I’ll make a half-hearted attempt to track her down and get a small claims court case going against her. Then, with judgment in hand, I’ll wait on line behind the dozens of other people she owes money to, including the phone company, which turned off her phone last month, and the Town of Wickenburg, who was ready to turn off her electricity this week. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get the court to garnish her wages — if she ever gets a job — so I can see some of the money I’ll be pouring into that house this month.

If anyone in Wickenburg is reading this and knows who I’m talking about, you obviously know Lisa. But if there are any landlords in Wickenburg who are wondering just who this nightmare tenant is, call me and I’ll give you a full name. People like this don’t belong in Wickenburg and we should consider it our duty to keep them out.

But then again, how often did Lisa use one of the town’s two cash advance businesses to get up the cash to pay her rent? And what does that say about Wickenburg?

Can You Hear Me?

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I make a phone call for someone in need.

She was an older woman, standing on the sidewalk between Alco and Osco. She looked nervous. I made eye contact with her on my way into Alco. When I came out, she was still there. But this time, she was looking right at me, obviously ready to approach me.

“What do you need?” I said, walking right up to her.

“I am deaf,” she said in the voice of a person who is obviously deaf. “Can you make a phone call for me? I will gladly pay you.”

“Sure,” I said. “But you don’t have to pay me.”

She didn’t hear me, of course. She was deaf. But she understood that I’d help.

We walked over to the pay phone and she pulled out a small folder that she opened and showed to me. She pointed to one of the two names with phone numbers on it. “This is my daughter,” she said. “I need you to call her for me. Let me talk to her, then you take the phone and listen to what she says and write it down for me.” She took out a pad and pen. I picked up the phone. “Call collect,” she advised me. “It will be easier for you.”

I made the call as she requested. A moment later, I was talking to her daughter. “I’m making this call for your mother,” I said. “She wants to talk to you and then I’ll listen to what you say and write it down.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She’d obviously done this before.

I handed the phone over and the woman talked. She didn’t stop to listen. She talked about where she was and about checking the mail. She talked about leaving a check for her daughter’s trip. She said she was fine and hoped her daughter had a good time on the trip. There was more of the same. Then she told her daughter that she’d tried for a half hour to get someone to make this call for her and that I’d finally come along and said yes. “God bless her,” she said. She told her daughter that I’d take notes and handed the phone back to me.

The daughter kept it brief. She thanked me, then gave me a few messages regarding the mail. She ended up with, “Tell her I love her. And thanks again for helping her.”

Meanwhile, the woman was attempting to put money in my pocket. I tried to dodge away, but the phone cord was too short. I said goodbye and hung up, then handed the woman the notes I’d written. She read them aloud and nodded. Then she tried again to give me money. I wouldn’t take it.

“I tried to get so many other people to help me,” she said. “They wouldn’t come near me. They must have thought I was a leper because I was deaf. Please take the money. Just for a Coke.”

I had tears in my eyes, thinking about this woman wasting 30 minutes of her day trying to get someone to make a simple phone call for her. I gave her a hug. When she was insistent about the money, I took it, then slipped it into her purse, which she’d left open just a little bit. Then I said goodbye and left her.

What is it with today’s people? Can’t they take a moment to help someone in need? Someone with a simple request that would take only a moment of time and not cost a penny? It surprises me. You’d expect people to act like that in a big city. But not in Wickenburg.

But maybe it takes a big city person to be brave enough to face someone in need.

Three Fingers

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A bumper sticker teaches me a new hand signal.

If you’ve been reading these blogs faithfully (I’m impressed and somewhat flattered), you’ll know that I received two Fahrenheit 9/11 bumper stickers in the mail. Partially because I don’t mind stirring up trouble and partially because I thought the colors would look good with my car, I put the sticker on my Honda S2000. The darn thing seems to take up 1/3 of the rear window. (I wasn’t about to put a sticker on the paint.)

Yesterday, I was driving through Wickenburg toward Big O Tires, where Mike was getting an oil change. A white pickup truck pulled up next to me on that two-lane stretch of road and the young man — maybe 25 years old? — in the front held up three spread fingers. I saw him clearly, but had no idea what this meant. He must have thought that I didn’t see it, because he flashed them again. Still no recognition on my part. Then he kind of rolled his eyes and started rolling down his window. I rolled down mine. He yelled out to me, with a big grin on his face, “Bush!”

I laughed hard. I mean really hard. The light bulb had gone on. The three fingers was supposed to be a W. W is the not-so-secret code for George W Bush. I guess most people know this already. But I don’t watch television and I’m not a Republican. So it was completely new to me.

Why flash the W sign at me? Obviously, he’d seen the bumper sticker and wanted to show his support for the other side. I guess he didn’t want to mess up his truck with a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker, which would have been more to the point, and could have shown his support even while he was away from his vehicle, flashing W signs around Arizona on foot.

Whatever.

So now I’m trying to think of a hand signal for the millions of anti-Bush people out there. The people who have lost their jobs, health insurance, or sons over the past four years. The people who remember the days when the U.

S. was a respected world power, not the world’s bully. The people who think the billions of dollars spent in Iraq would do a lot more for us if spent here.

If I come up with one, you’ll learn about it here.

The Arrival of a Bumper Sticker

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Some thoughts on receiving a pair of political bumper stickers from an anonymous sender.

I got a long envelope in the mail yesterday from a company called FahrenheitStuff.com. When I opened it, I found two black, red, and white bumper stickers that said: “Fahrenheit 9/11, See the movie..then decide.”There was no indication of who had sent them.

Bumper StickerI went to the Web site and learned that FahrenheitStuff.com sells bumper stickers and tee shirts with all proceeds going to MoveOnPac.org. MoveOnPac.org, I learned, is dedicated to getting voters to vote George W. Bush out of office. To that end, they have a number of political advertisements that you can view via the Web. I watched all of them. One, “Stranded Republicans,” was very good. Another, “Everyone,” was very moving. The others were so-so. Since I don’t watch much TV, I don’t know if any of these ads have actually aired. FahrenheitStuff.com claims it is not affiliated with or endorsed by Michael Moore or MoveOnPac.org. The bumper stickers were of good quality and quite attractive. The colors went well with my red Honda. So, just to stir up some local emotions in this Arizona Republican stronghold town, I put one on my car. Yes, I put it on the glass back window; after all, I will eventually need to remove it. And if people start throwing eggs, I can always drive around town with the top down so no one sees it.

The shirts were nice, too. 100% cotton Hanes tee shirts with three different Fahrenheit 9/11 slogans on them. They were only $7.99. The bumper stickers were only $1 each. I’m thinking the shirts might make a good collector’s item in about 20 years. I might buy one and store it with my Mac OS 8 tee shirts. Someday, they’ll hit eBay.

Well, while I was surfing to find out about FahrenheitStuff.com and MoveOnPac.org, I visited Michael Moore’s Web site. I read a lot of interesting articles there. He didn’t write them. He just echoed them from other sources. It appears the Michigan Republicans are out to get him because he’s “bribing students to vote.” Frankly, I think it’s admirable that someone is making an effort to get young people involved in the political decision-making process. Of course, his efforts do have an ulterior motive. He obviously believes that the majority of these young people will vote against George W Bush. I think they will, too. And I hope they vote.

I realized, in reading Moore’s Web pages, that he and I have a lot in common. We have the same basic political opinion. Like me, he doesn’t think that Kerry is the best candidate for president. But he also doesn’t think we should give Bush another 4 years. Like me, he believes in exercising his First Amendment rights to speak his mind about the things he feels strongly about. But while he does it in movie theaters, in public speaking gigs (for which is often paid), in interviews, and on his Web site, I do it on my Web site and blogs and in letters to our sorry (and politically unbalanced) little local newspaper. While he’s tackling topics on the national and international level, with well-researched and presented commentary, I’m just presenting my opinion, based on my own intelligence and knowledge of the things going on around me. And like me, he has made a number of enemies due to his outspokenness, although he has millions of them and I only have a handful of people I wouldn’t want as friends anyway.

After surfing Moore’s site, I went to Amazon.com to look up information about his new book, “The Fahrenheit 9/11 Reader.” It sounds like a rehash of the movie, with a bunch of commentary in it. I don’t think it’s worth reading, at least not right now when I have so many other things I want to read. But I also learned that someone wrote a book called “Michael Moore is a Big Fat Stupid White Man.” Wow. I might have to agree with that sentiment, but remove the word “Stupid.” He certainly isn’t that. But I do think it’s funny that an author (and publisher) would cash in on the fact that so many people hate Michael Moore. Who’s stupid now? It appears that the buyers of this book (and perhaps Moore’s book, to be fair) are being used to generate profits for authors and publishers who are selling to emotions. Perhaps these books look good on coffee tables in homes of Republicans or Democrats. A kind of label to let people know where you stand politically.

While surfing Amazon.com, I found a book that I think I’m going to buy (or at least look for in my local library). It’s called “Seven Floors High” and it appears to be a novel based on fact. (The description is too vague to make it clear whether it’s fact or fiction.) What really struck me is the reviews: every single reviewer gave it 5 stars. Most of them said they “couldn’t put it down.” I need to read something like that. Of course, I found the book through a link to “The Fahrenheit 9/11 Reader,” and it’s quite clear that it doesn’t make George W Bush look very good. I’m looking forward to checking it out.

I also found an enormous number of political books for sale. Some are “patriotic” titles that are obviously written to praise the current president. Others are titles by (or with information from) people in the know, such as John Dean and Paul O’Neill. The summaries of these books make them sound like interesting (but scary) reading. They seem to confirm what I already suspect: that there’s more going on in the White House than what meets the public’s eye.

Anyway, speaking of patriotic, I do have one more comment to make regarding Michael Moore. Moore-haters claim he’s unpatriotic. (By the way, that’s the same claim made by our president and his supporters when we question the removal of our rights to privacy, free speech, and due process.) I don’t think he’s unpatriotic at all. I think he sees the big picture and has formed an opinion about it. The opinion is not favorable to our current president and his party. I think he loves America very much — and that’s why he’s willing to speak out. I think it’s his way of getting other people to see the big picture and make an informed opinion about it. Informed using all of the facts, not the claims made by the republican party and its candidates.

Again, this is a lot like me. People think I hate Wickenburg because I speak out when I see something I think is bad or wrong. But I don’t hate Wickenburg. I don’t want to hate it, either. I want everyone to see what’s going on out there. I want them to make their own opinions and do something about it.

The sad thing about America these days is that the average person would rather watch the latest reality TV show than spend time and effort researching the issues that affect their lives and voting based on their own opinions about those issues.

And there is a postscript to this story: I found out who sent me the bumper stickers when I got a message from the sender in this morning’s e-mail.