"The ‘myriad reasons’ voters might need help carrying out their intent could include language barriers and memory problems or learning disabilities that make word retrieval difficult, the high court said.
"‘Providing the proper spelling of names written in English could assist those voters who want to vote for a particular candidate and need assistance in ensuring that they write the candidate’s name correctly,’ the court said."
The ruling late last week by the Supreme Court in Alaska, reported in Saturday’s Los Angeles Times, is seen as helping Senator Lisa Murkowski, who took the extraordinary step of mounting a write-in campaign for tomorrow’s election after being defeated by a more conservative "tea party" candidate in the Republican primary election. Ms. Murkowski and her supporters were concerned that voters would have difficulty with remembering how to spell her name and wanted a list of write-in candidates to be made available to voters who ask for one at the polls. In response to the ruling, right-wing radio talk show hosts urged their listeners with similar names - who knew? - to get on the list, with the result being that there are something like 160 write-in candidates in Alaska.
I could comment on how this not only is yet another example of Alaska’s wacky politics but also shows that voting there is now officially even wackier than voting in Florida. I could also be snide and point out that Sarah Palin will probably rail against this ruling that will one day help her "special needs" child.
What I want to say, though, is that this reminds me of when my mother took me to vote for the first time. When my mom asked for two Democratic ballot, the old man manning the poll gave her a dirty look. No doubt he was a Republican and thought I was retarded and thought my mom was voting twice. (I now mark a "permanent absentee voter" ballot at home and drop it off at a poll.)
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Spooked off
Halloween sucks.
Okay, I don’t hate it, but am I a bad gay man if I don’t just love Halloween?
It started when I was little. There were a few times - well, at least one time - when I was sick on Halloween and couldn’t go out. When I could go trick-or-treating, my mom and dad would always fight over who would accompany me, pushing my wheelchair and helping me say "trick or treat!" (For the record, Mom always lost and had to take me out.)
And it was tough finding a costume that looked good in a wheelchair. (This was before I got fabulously creative.) I was thrilled when I got the idea of being a black blob. I had my mom dye a sheet black and throw it over me. It was cool until the sheet began getting caught in my wheels.
Later, when I had my own place, I had another problem - handing out candy. Answering the door and giving out candy was a problem. Plus I didn’t really like being the real freak show. I began leaving the candy out on the porch.
One year, I skipped out and went to West Hollywood and met some Radical Faerie friends at the street festival there. My friends were adorable - like little boys in a candy shop way past their bedtime. But the scene was insane, with people constantly running into me and $10 parking to boot. Also, I gave a lesbian friend a ride out there and lost her two times. I should have put a leash on her.
The last straw came a few years ago when I left the candy out on a chair. It was a nice, sturdy, dining chair - from Ikea, with blond wood and a rattan seat. The next morning, not only was the candy gone, but the chair was gone, with pieces of it strewn up and down the street.
One thing I like about Halloween is the annual special column I write for the Claremont Courier, the latest of which follows here. Some people hate it. Good. That means I’m doing my job.
WHEN THE TRICKS ARE THE REAL TREAT
Oh, Horror of Horrors! Oh, Terror of Terrors! It is that time of year! Yes, once again, it is time for me to greet you, oh, Most Ghostly of the Ghostly, oh, Most Ghastly of the Ghastly, before your night of nights, when you rise up in all your heinous glory. This, indeed, is your season of seasons, the season of All Hallow’s Eve.
And, as always, it is the greatest of privileges for me, your humblest of minions, to have this opportunity to come before you and to wish you the best - or, er, the worst? - on this most auspicious of occasions and to report to you on the doings among the mortals in this all-too fair town of Claremont. I do regret that I’m quite far back in your receiving line, with 11 days to go until Halloween, but I can’t help be pleased with this date - 10/20/2010. Sure, it’s a bit of a stretch - not anything like 10/10/10 - but you know what fools these mortals be with their numbers and their attributed meanings. Besides, if this was in Europe, today would be 20/10/2010.
But this, as you well know, oh, Raj of the Ridiculous, is America, and, as you also know well and as is common, this October 31, in a most delicious irony, comes right before Election Day. No doubt you’ve already heard lots about the perfectly ugly mud-slinging and the wonderfully nasty barbs, both in this state and all over the U.S, especially with the Republicans and the rabid "tea partiers" going all out and widely believed poised to take back at least some power from the Democrats. I guess this shouldn’t be surprising, since it is pretty much a mirror image of what was going on under eight years of President Bush.
Claremont is also voting on a school bond on November 2, and there has been a nice amount of dust kicked up over the issue. There is even an organized group arguing against Measure CL, saying mainly that it is too costly in these recessionary times (whether or not the recession is over, as was recently touted - not unlike "Mission Accomplished!"), but I wonder if this is yet another vocal minority in this town that so prides itself in its educational institutions and strong sense of community. That a school board member has endorsed a "no" vote on the bond makes this all the more delightfully vexing.
I have to tell you, oh Saint of the Sniping, that there was no raucous town hall meeting this year, with people yelling and screaming and even hitting at each other, but you’ll no doubt be pleased to know that there has been a steady stream of letters in the local paper here, mostly on national issues like healthcare funding and the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, from liberals and conservatives attacking each other, often in quite personal and nasty ways. The letters seem to be from the same people and are entertaining in a delectably weird way, and many people say that they are tired of them. The paper has tried to limit these letters from time to time.
I hope you’ll allow me to editorialize just a bit here. I am astonished, even as your underling in all things dark and dubious, at how people, like the "tea partiers" and other conservatives, rail against things that will surely help them.
Take healthcare funding reform. Not only do these people not want to help others, many of them, judging from the huge number of uninsured, don’t want to help themselves. I think these people are, as you’ll be happy to hear, either greedy (over and over, I’ve heard people say something like "I’m already insured, thank you....") or fearful, especially after September 11, and easily manipulated. Or both.
Then there’s President Obama. I have to say I actually feel sorry for the guy. Everybody wants to crucify him, either for being too much of a Jesus or for not being enough of a Jesus.
Excuse me for getting off track... You might be interested to hear, oh, King of Chaos, the there was a bit of a bruhaha this year over Claremont’s cherished July 4 parade. In this event beloved for kids riding by on bikes and groups of neighbors twiddling their thumbs in formation, there was a remarkably large contingent of people from different churches marching in support of same-sex marriage. This may or may not please you, but I know you’ll love it that some people were so upset that there has been a proposal to ban such "political" entries from this parade that supposedly fetes America’s freedoms. The really crazy thing is that the contingent won two first-place awards!
There is also the story of Bell, of which you’ve no doubt heard, with its outrageous salaries for its city manager and other officials. What does this have to do with Claremont? It turns out that it hasn’t escaped such a municipal mess. As a Los Angeles Times columnist pointed out, Claremont is stuck paying most of the hefty retirement pension for its former city manager, Glenn Southard, recently retired from Indio and known for his imperious attitude, lavish spending and bungling the Landrum shooting.
Mr. Southard probably should be given credit for bringing lots of businesses to Claremont during his tenure here. However, I’m not sure if he could save Claremont from the recession (oops - I forgot - it’s over!). There are perfectly lovely signs of the downturn, such as large, prominent stores in the Village, like Casa Flores, standing empty for months on end. And just in the last two weeks, the popular Cruise Night being closed down and Barbara Baretich’s remarkable horse statue being knocked over only adds to the gloriously sorry mess.
Before I leave you, I can tell you that, just this month, a 79-year-old Claremont resident, Joseph O’Toole, plead guilty to and could face 5 years in federal prison and a fine up to $250,000 for attempting, with a partner, to export weapons to Somalia without a government license. This is terrorism, oh, Duke of Destruction, not unlike when, several years ago, a man held a threatening vigil outside of a local bank for months and was found to have a stash of high-caliber weapons hidden in his Claremont home. That Mr. O’Toole ran (unsuccessfully) for City Council here and was an outspoken leader of a group calling itself, without tongue in cheek, the Citizens for the American Dream, set up to foil an affordable housing project in Claremont - yes, the proposed site was too close to a freeway, but it also was in or near the most affluent part of town - will, I’m quite sure, warm whatever cockles are left in your cold, black heart.
Okay, I don’t hate it, but am I a bad gay man if I don’t just love Halloween?
It started when I was little. There were a few times - well, at least one time - when I was sick on Halloween and couldn’t go out. When I could go trick-or-treating, my mom and dad would always fight over who would accompany me, pushing my wheelchair and helping me say "trick or treat!" (For the record, Mom always lost and had to take me out.)
And it was tough finding a costume that looked good in a wheelchair. (This was before I got fabulously creative.) I was thrilled when I got the idea of being a black blob. I had my mom dye a sheet black and throw it over me. It was cool until the sheet began getting caught in my wheels.
Later, when I had my own place, I had another problem - handing out candy. Answering the door and giving out candy was a problem. Plus I didn’t really like being the real freak show. I began leaving the candy out on the porch.
One year, I skipped out and went to West Hollywood and met some Radical Faerie friends at the street festival there. My friends were adorable - like little boys in a candy shop way past their bedtime. But the scene was insane, with people constantly running into me and $10 parking to boot. Also, I gave a lesbian friend a ride out there and lost her two times. I should have put a leash on her.
The last straw came a few years ago when I left the candy out on a chair. It was a nice, sturdy, dining chair - from Ikea, with blond wood and a rattan seat. The next morning, not only was the candy gone, but the chair was gone, with pieces of it strewn up and down the street.
One thing I like about Halloween is the annual special column I write for the Claremont Courier, the latest of which follows here. Some people hate it. Good. That means I’m doing my job.
WHEN THE TRICKS ARE THE REAL TREAT
Oh, Horror of Horrors! Oh, Terror of Terrors! It is that time of year! Yes, once again, it is time for me to greet you, oh, Most Ghostly of the Ghostly, oh, Most Ghastly of the Ghastly, before your night of nights, when you rise up in all your heinous glory. This, indeed, is your season of seasons, the season of All Hallow’s Eve.
And, as always, it is the greatest of privileges for me, your humblest of minions, to have this opportunity to come before you and to wish you the best - or, er, the worst? - on this most auspicious of occasions and to report to you on the doings among the mortals in this all-too fair town of Claremont. I do regret that I’m quite far back in your receiving line, with 11 days to go until Halloween, but I can’t help be pleased with this date - 10/20/2010. Sure, it’s a bit of a stretch - not anything like 10/10/10 - but you know what fools these mortals be with their numbers and their attributed meanings. Besides, if this was in Europe, today would be 20/10/2010.
But this, as you well know, oh, Raj of the Ridiculous, is America, and, as you also know well and as is common, this October 31, in a most delicious irony, comes right before Election Day. No doubt you’ve already heard lots about the perfectly ugly mud-slinging and the wonderfully nasty barbs, both in this state and all over the U.S, especially with the Republicans and the rabid "tea partiers" going all out and widely believed poised to take back at least some power from the Democrats. I guess this shouldn’t be surprising, since it is pretty much a mirror image of what was going on under eight years of President Bush.
Claremont is also voting on a school bond on November 2, and there has been a nice amount of dust kicked up over the issue. There is even an organized group arguing against Measure CL, saying mainly that it is too costly in these recessionary times (whether or not the recession is over, as was recently touted - not unlike "Mission Accomplished!"), but I wonder if this is yet another vocal minority in this town that so prides itself in its educational institutions and strong sense of community. That a school board member has endorsed a "no" vote on the bond makes this all the more delightfully vexing.
I have to tell you, oh Saint of the Sniping, that there was no raucous town hall meeting this year, with people yelling and screaming and even hitting at each other, but you’ll no doubt be pleased to know that there has been a steady stream of letters in the local paper here, mostly on national issues like healthcare funding and the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, from liberals and conservatives attacking each other, often in quite personal and nasty ways. The letters seem to be from the same people and are entertaining in a delectably weird way, and many people say that they are tired of them. The paper has tried to limit these letters from time to time.
I hope you’ll allow me to editorialize just a bit here. I am astonished, even as your underling in all things dark and dubious, at how people, like the "tea partiers" and other conservatives, rail against things that will surely help them.
Take healthcare funding reform. Not only do these people not want to help others, many of them, judging from the huge number of uninsured, don’t want to help themselves. I think these people are, as you’ll be happy to hear, either greedy (over and over, I’ve heard people say something like "I’m already insured, thank you....") or fearful, especially after September 11, and easily manipulated. Or both.
Then there’s President Obama. I have to say I actually feel sorry for the guy. Everybody wants to crucify him, either for being too much of a Jesus or for not being enough of a Jesus.
Excuse me for getting off track... You might be interested to hear, oh, King of Chaos, the there was a bit of a bruhaha this year over Claremont’s cherished July 4 parade. In this event beloved for kids riding by on bikes and groups of neighbors twiddling their thumbs in formation, there was a remarkably large contingent of people from different churches marching in support of same-sex marriage. This may or may not please you, but I know you’ll love it that some people were so upset that there has been a proposal to ban such "political" entries from this parade that supposedly fetes America’s freedoms. The really crazy thing is that the contingent won two first-place awards!
There is also the story of Bell, of which you’ve no doubt heard, with its outrageous salaries for its city manager and other officials. What does this have to do with Claremont? It turns out that it hasn’t escaped such a municipal mess. As a Los Angeles Times columnist pointed out, Claremont is stuck paying most of the hefty retirement pension for its former city manager, Glenn Southard, recently retired from Indio and known for his imperious attitude, lavish spending and bungling the Landrum shooting.
Mr. Southard probably should be given credit for bringing lots of businesses to Claremont during his tenure here. However, I’m not sure if he could save Claremont from the recession (oops - I forgot - it’s over!). There are perfectly lovely signs of the downturn, such as large, prominent stores in the Village, like Casa Flores, standing empty for months on end. And just in the last two weeks, the popular Cruise Night being closed down and Barbara Baretich’s remarkable horse statue being knocked over only adds to the gloriously sorry mess.
Before I leave you, I can tell you that, just this month, a 79-year-old Claremont resident, Joseph O’Toole, plead guilty to and could face 5 years in federal prison and a fine up to $250,000 for attempting, with a partner, to export weapons to Somalia without a government license. This is terrorism, oh, Duke of Destruction, not unlike when, several years ago, a man held a threatening vigil outside of a local bank for months and was found to have a stash of high-caliber weapons hidden in his Claremont home. That Mr. O’Toole ran (unsuccessfully) for City Council here and was an outspoken leader of a group calling itself, without tongue in cheek, the Citizens for the American Dream, set up to foil an affordable housing project in Claremont - yes, the proposed site was too close to a freeway, but it also was in or near the most affluent part of town - will, I’m quite sure, warm whatever cockles are left in your cold, black heart.
Friday, October 22, 2010
The right to tell them where to stick it
These people are sick. They need to shut the hell up.
Yes, Fred Phelps and his Westboro, Kansas Baptist Church - they of the infamous "God Hates Fags" signs - have been at it again. And they’ve up the ante, showing up and picketing at the funerals of slain U.S soldiers. They argue loudly and in the boldest of colors that the dead military personnel will or should go to Hell for fighting for a country that tolerates homosexuality.
See? These folks are sick. That’s some truly twisted, sick, screwed-up logic.
What’s more, they’re fighting for the right to do this. At the Supreme Court.
A couple weeks ago, in one of the first cases of the new session, the justices of the highest court of the land heard arguments stemming from a lawsuit filed by a father against Phelps’ congregants for picketing the funeral of his son who had been kill in the war in Iraq. The father, who is Catholic, felt not only that the protest marred and degraded the solemn rite but also libeled by the protesters saying that he raised his son in a bad way. The craziness was topped off by one of Phelp’s wacky daughters herself - not an attorney - arguing for the protesters, citing free speech.
Guess what.
I think she when right. I think the justices should rule in her favor.
I say this not only as a writer and journalist who believes strongly in a free press. This is more than taking a highly principled stand.
I say this as a gay, disabled man who fights everyday to get out and be an active, visible part of society. I want a man to be able to wear a hat with a Confederate flag on it, because I want to be able to go around in my bright, gay-pride rainbow tie-dyed overalls and with rainbow laces in my shoes.
I say this, because I want to be free to say that these people are - or act like (I’m a Quaker who sees God in everyone, remember) - sick, evil, twisted, stupid, heinous assholes.
Yes, Fred Phelps and his Westboro, Kansas Baptist Church - they of the infamous "God Hates Fags" signs - have been at it again. And they’ve up the ante, showing up and picketing at the funerals of slain U.S soldiers. They argue loudly and in the boldest of colors that the dead military personnel will or should go to Hell for fighting for a country that tolerates homosexuality.
See? These folks are sick. That’s some truly twisted, sick, screwed-up logic.
What’s more, they’re fighting for the right to do this. At the Supreme Court.
A couple weeks ago, in one of the first cases of the new session, the justices of the highest court of the land heard arguments stemming from a lawsuit filed by a father against Phelps’ congregants for picketing the funeral of his son who had been kill in the war in Iraq. The father, who is Catholic, felt not only that the protest marred and degraded the solemn rite but also libeled by the protesters saying that he raised his son in a bad way. The craziness was topped off by one of Phelp’s wacky daughters herself - not an attorney - arguing for the protesters, citing free speech.
Guess what.
I think she when right. I think the justices should rule in her favor.
I say this not only as a writer and journalist who believes strongly in a free press. This is more than taking a highly principled stand.
I say this as a gay, disabled man who fights everyday to get out and be an active, visible part of society. I want a man to be able to wear a hat with a Confederate flag on it, because I want to be able to go around in my bright, gay-pride rainbow tie-dyed overalls and with rainbow laces in my shoes.
I say this, because I want to be free to say that these people are - or act like (I’m a Quaker who sees God in everyone, remember) - sick, evil, twisted, stupid, heinous assholes.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Facing up
I liked Jesse Eisenberg in "The Squid and the Whale," and I adored him in "Adventureland." Even more than Michael Cera (especially in "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World"), he owns the market in playing the cute nerd - slightly scruffy, slightly hippie, slightly punk. So it was a bit of a surprise and a real treat to see him doing such a fine, fine job in playing an arrogant asshole as Mark Zuckerberg, the Facebook co-founder, in "The Social Network.
Whether or not this portrayal is completely accurate and fair, Eisenberg is mesmerizing, contributing to the film being a terrific, absorbing two hours, with zippy direction by David Fincher, crackling dialogue by Aaron Sorkin and driving music by Trent Resnor (the new Danny Elfman?) of Nine Inch Nails. Making a heady intellectual property dispute downright thrilling, with intriguing characters, this is an old-fashioned, good, adult drama - the kind Hollywood used to be so good at making but rarely does anymore.
What I like best about the movie is the way it sharply evokes college life, especially on the east coast - running through a freezing midnight drizzle in a hoodie and flip-flops, studying alone under a bare florescent light in a tiny dorm room, riotous partying in centuries-old, stately, stained-oak rooms. Reznor’s steely music adds to the sense of loneliness and alienation felt even at the heart of this exclusive, clubby setting. This is one of the best depictions of the strange, protected, suspended life in academia since Mike Nichol’s production of "Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff?"
The film and all its publicity made me think of how much Facebook has changed our world. A few days before its released, in a most bitter irony, a gay Ruttgers University student committed suicide after being filmed on-line, for all the world to see, having sex with another man. Although the roommate and friend who did the broadcasting saw it as a lark, it strikes me that this is the 2010 2.0 version of what happened to Matthew Shepherd.
I have to say that I suck at Facebook. I have heard about thousands of people going off Facebook because of it eating up time and being a substitute for face-to-face contact, but I hardly get on it.
Yes, it is good for getting the word out, like when I have a new blog post, and I’m sure I’m missing out on some things, but I don’t really care that Jane is enjoying a nice bowl of homemade asparagus soup, and I don’t want to spend hours playing games with animals. I understand all those people wanting face-to-face contact rather than Facebook.
Then again, on the day I saw "The Social Network," I had the extraordinary, moving experience of going to visit a friend I had been out of touch with for 25 years - half my lifetime. He had found me on Facebook.
Now, that’s a status update worth sharing.
Whether or not this portrayal is completely accurate and fair, Eisenberg is mesmerizing, contributing to the film being a terrific, absorbing two hours, with zippy direction by David Fincher, crackling dialogue by Aaron Sorkin and driving music by Trent Resnor (the new Danny Elfman?) of Nine Inch Nails. Making a heady intellectual property dispute downright thrilling, with intriguing characters, this is an old-fashioned, good, adult drama - the kind Hollywood used to be so good at making but rarely does anymore.
What I like best about the movie is the way it sharply evokes college life, especially on the east coast - running through a freezing midnight drizzle in a hoodie and flip-flops, studying alone under a bare florescent light in a tiny dorm room, riotous partying in centuries-old, stately, stained-oak rooms. Reznor’s steely music adds to the sense of loneliness and alienation felt even at the heart of this exclusive, clubby setting. This is one of the best depictions of the strange, protected, suspended life in academia since Mike Nichol’s production of "Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff?"
The film and all its publicity made me think of how much Facebook has changed our world. A few days before its released, in a most bitter irony, a gay Ruttgers University student committed suicide after being filmed on-line, for all the world to see, having sex with another man. Although the roommate and friend who did the broadcasting saw it as a lark, it strikes me that this is the 2010 2.0 version of what happened to Matthew Shepherd.
I have to say that I suck at Facebook. I have heard about thousands of people going off Facebook because of it eating up time and being a substitute for face-to-face contact, but I hardly get on it.
Yes, it is good for getting the word out, like when I have a new blog post, and I’m sure I’m missing out on some things, but I don’t really care that Jane is enjoying a nice bowl of homemade asparagus soup, and I don’t want to spend hours playing games with animals. I understand all those people wanting face-to-face contact rather than Facebook.
Then again, on the day I saw "The Social Network," I had the extraordinary, moving experience of going to visit a friend I had been out of touch with for 25 years - half my lifetime. He had found me on Facebook.
Now, that’s a status update worth sharing.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Those pesky disabled folks and their A.D.A
I can’t tell you how many times I have read or heard about the Americans with Disabilities Act being blamed for problems. The costs for a construction project sky-rockets due to A.D.A regulations. A project is delayed, because it turns out that there were A.D.A regs that were overlooked - and costs will also go up. A good idea, like toilet kiosks in New York City, is shelved because it violates - yes - the A.D.A. Or making it A.D.A-compatible would be too expensive.
Damn that A.D.A. Things would be so much better, easier, less costly without it.
This is pretty much the message I get. In the mainstream media, I rarely see stories about how the A.D.A, which was enacted about 20 years ago, makes life easier for those of us who are disabled. The stories are always about how expensive, how restrictive, how much of a hassle the accommodation law is.
Sometimes the A.D.A doesn’t make my life easier. I get angry when I get a hotel room and find that the bathroom has a tub - rather than a walk-in shower - with bars on the walls. I assume this passes muster with the A.D.A, but I can’t use it. And I don’t think there about many people in wheelchairs who can.
But I was reminded recently when I read an article that the A.D.A has even more of a black eye - with help from the disabled. The story in the Los Angeles Times was about a guy in a wheelchair going around and taking pictures in small stores and these pictures being used by a lawyer in sending out dozens of letters at a time threatening to sue for A.D.A violations and demanding thousands of dollars. The article pointed out that this is going on despite a law designed to prevent such schemes and that a new law is being developed.
I have read about such schemes before, and "schemes" is definitely the right word. This is definitely a case of advantage being taken - not to mention a good thing being given a bad name. It is one thing to use a law to make things better and quite another to use it as a money-maker. I would even ask if the guy in the wheelchair taking pictures is really disabled, but perhaps I’m in denial that a disabled person would be in on this.
And I bet the new law being developed will make it harder to file legitimate A.D.A claims.
Damn that A.D.A. Things would be so much better, easier, less costly without it.
This is pretty much the message I get. In the mainstream media, I rarely see stories about how the A.D.A, which was enacted about 20 years ago, makes life easier for those of us who are disabled. The stories are always about how expensive, how restrictive, how much of a hassle the accommodation law is.
Sometimes the A.D.A doesn’t make my life easier. I get angry when I get a hotel room and find that the bathroom has a tub - rather than a walk-in shower - with bars on the walls. I assume this passes muster with the A.D.A, but I can’t use it. And I don’t think there about many people in wheelchairs who can.
But I was reminded recently when I read an article that the A.D.A has even more of a black eye - with help from the disabled. The story in the Los Angeles Times was about a guy in a wheelchair going around and taking pictures in small stores and these pictures being used by a lawyer in sending out dozens of letters at a time threatening to sue for A.D.A violations and demanding thousands of dollars. The article pointed out that this is going on despite a law designed to prevent such schemes and that a new law is being developed.
I have read about such schemes before, and "schemes" is definitely the right word. This is definitely a case of advantage being taken - not to mention a good thing being given a bad name. It is one thing to use a law to make things better and quite another to use it as a money-maker. I would even ask if the guy in the wheelchair taking pictures is really disabled, but perhaps I’m in denial that a disabled person would be in on this.
And I bet the new law being developed will make it harder to file legitimate A.D.A claims.
Friday, September 10, 2010
The man with the ten hats
Not a ten-gallon hat. But ten hats - actually, perhaps nine - on his head. Literally.
This past weekend, I was at a gathering of a group that I have been involved in for ten years. There was a guy, a very sweet, gentle guy, that was there for the first time who turned out to have Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism which makes social interaction and relating to others (empathy, etc.) difficult. I soon noticed that at each meal, he would have an additional hats on his head. (The stack started with cowboy hats and was topped off with a few billed caps.)
I asked a friend what this was all about, feeling stupid for wondering if this hat-stacking is a characteristic of Asberger’s Syndrome. He explained that the guy told him that he wears the hats to attract attention to himself and away from his disability and to help him interact with people, with them asking him what’s up with the hats.
"Smart guy," I told my friend. "He’s a smart guy."
I said this, because I know exactly what he is doing. As I have written about before, I do the same thing with my overalls, as well as my mismatched high-tops, rainbow shoe laces, dreads and hats - although I wear one hat at a time. I use them to focus attention on myself and away from my disability. When, at one point during the weekend, the guy said with considerable pride and warmth, "I’m the crazy, autistic man with the hats," I totally related and was thrilled.
What’s more, I said this and also that the guy is brave, even though I usually hate it when people say this about me. Okay - I admit it - I admire this disabled guy and found him - yes - brave and
inspiring!
What’s even more, I went to the gathering with my new Vmax speech synthesizer, and it was a huge success. Not only was I able to talk more to more people, it turned out to be, once people saw how I use it, a magnet.
Like those hats for that guy.
This past weekend, I was at a gathering of a group that I have been involved in for ten years. There was a guy, a very sweet, gentle guy, that was there for the first time who turned out to have Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism which makes social interaction and relating to others (empathy, etc.) difficult. I soon noticed that at each meal, he would have an additional hats on his head. (The stack started with cowboy hats and was topped off with a few billed caps.)
I asked a friend what this was all about, feeling stupid for wondering if this hat-stacking is a characteristic of Asberger’s Syndrome. He explained that the guy told him that he wears the hats to attract attention to himself and away from his disability and to help him interact with people, with them asking him what’s up with the hats.
"Smart guy," I told my friend. "He’s a smart guy."
I said this, because I know exactly what he is doing. As I have written about before, I do the same thing with my overalls, as well as my mismatched high-tops, rainbow shoe laces, dreads and hats - although I wear one hat at a time. I use them to focus attention on myself and away from my disability. When, at one point during the weekend, the guy said with considerable pride and warmth, "I’m the crazy, autistic man with the hats," I totally related and was thrilled.
What’s more, I said this and also that the guy is brave, even though I usually hate it when people say this about me. Okay - I admit it - I admire this disabled guy and found him - yes - brave and
inspiring!
What’s even more, I went to the gathering with my new Vmax speech synthesizer, and it was a huge success. Not only was I able to talk more to more people, it turned out to be, once people saw how I use it, a magnet.
Like those hats for that guy.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Who would Jesus hate?
"Would you want to be adopted by a pair of faggots or lesbians?"
I didn’t find this quote in the deep, dark nether regions of the Internet. It isn’t from some ultra-conservative radio host, and I didn’t hear it from a gay-bashing skinhead scowling on the sidewalk.
No, I saw it in the Los Angeles Times two or three weeks ago, and it is from a bishop - an archbishop - Cardinal Juan Sandoval Iniguez, archbishop of Guadalajara and one of the most senior Roman Catholic prelates in the nation. He said this in reaction to Mexico City’s ordinance allowing same-sex marriages and adoptions and the Mexican Supreme Court’s upholding it. (He went on to accuse the court of taking bribes.)
Never mind how I would answer his question, and forget, for the moment, the whole gay rights issue. My question here is, how can a respected man of the church - not some fringe minister, a la Fred Phelps - spew such hateful gutter-talk ("faggots").
I may sound shocked. I should be shocked. I wish I was shocked.
But I’m not. This fits right in with the furor over the building of a mosque two blocks from "ground zero" in New York City. Never mind that it will be more of a community center open to all, that it will be run by sufi Muslims, who are the blissed-out flower children of Islam, and that it certainly won’t "loom over" the Twin Towers site. There are people calling the building of the mosque a jihadist victory, a symbol of "Islamic triumphalism."
New York City isn’t the only place where there’s consternation over a mosque being built. It is happening in several communities across the nation, including Temecula, not far from here, and there was a fire a few days ago where a mosque was under construction in Tennessee.
Then there are the increasing number of Americans who believe that President Obama is a Muslim - as if that’s a bad thing. I was at the market the other day and saw a tabloid paper at the check-out stand with a large photograph on its cover of Obama wearing a white robe and a turban - "SHOCKING PROOF THAT OBAMA IS A MUSLIM!"
Even more disturbing and sad to me is that a number of mosques are cancelling their festivals - a big deal for children in particular - marking the last day of Ramadan, which this year happens to fall on September 11. This is a bit like cancelling Christmas morning, and it is being done because they don’t want people to get the wrong idea - that they’re celebrating 9/11.
It has been observed and lamented that it appears more and more that, contrary to the official rhetoric, America (and the West) is in a War on Islam.
Not unlike those who are against same-sex marriage saying they simply want to "protect marriage" when it is all too evident that they are against queers.
And meanwhile, Glen Beck and his rallying crowd, who more or less all loudly label themselves as Christians (there might be a few Jews, but that’s okay, because they’re in the Bible, unenlightened though they are) claim that all this, all this hate, is about "honor" and God.
I recently saw a production of "South Pacific," and I keep thinking of the song, "You Got To Be Carefully Taught," about how children learn to be prejudiced. It seems to me that it took some extraordinary teaching to get people to believe that Jesus espoused or endorsed all this bigotry and hate.
Either that, or it took a lot of people being scared shitless.
I didn’t find this quote in the deep, dark nether regions of the Internet. It isn’t from some ultra-conservative radio host, and I didn’t hear it from a gay-bashing skinhead scowling on the sidewalk.
No, I saw it in the Los Angeles Times two or three weeks ago, and it is from a bishop - an archbishop - Cardinal Juan Sandoval Iniguez, archbishop of Guadalajara and one of the most senior Roman Catholic prelates in the nation. He said this in reaction to Mexico City’s ordinance allowing same-sex marriages and adoptions and the Mexican Supreme Court’s upholding it. (He went on to accuse the court of taking bribes.)
Never mind how I would answer his question, and forget, for the moment, the whole gay rights issue. My question here is, how can a respected man of the church - not some fringe minister, a la Fred Phelps - spew such hateful gutter-talk ("faggots").
I may sound shocked. I should be shocked. I wish I was shocked.
But I’m not. This fits right in with the furor over the building of a mosque two blocks from "ground zero" in New York City. Never mind that it will be more of a community center open to all, that it will be run by sufi Muslims, who are the blissed-out flower children of Islam, and that it certainly won’t "loom over" the Twin Towers site. There are people calling the building of the mosque a jihadist victory, a symbol of "Islamic triumphalism."
New York City isn’t the only place where there’s consternation over a mosque being built. It is happening in several communities across the nation, including Temecula, not far from here, and there was a fire a few days ago where a mosque was under construction in Tennessee.
Then there are the increasing number of Americans who believe that President Obama is a Muslim - as if that’s a bad thing. I was at the market the other day and saw a tabloid paper at the check-out stand with a large photograph on its cover of Obama wearing a white robe and a turban - "SHOCKING PROOF THAT OBAMA IS A MUSLIM!"
Even more disturbing and sad to me is that a number of mosques are cancelling their festivals - a big deal for children in particular - marking the last day of Ramadan, which this year happens to fall on September 11. This is a bit like cancelling Christmas morning, and it is being done because they don’t want people to get the wrong idea - that they’re celebrating 9/11.
It has been observed and lamented that it appears more and more that, contrary to the official rhetoric, America (and the West) is in a War on Islam.
Not unlike those who are against same-sex marriage saying they simply want to "protect marriage" when it is all too evident that they are against queers.
And meanwhile, Glen Beck and his rallying crowd, who more or less all loudly label themselves as Christians (there might be a few Jews, but that’s okay, because they’re in the Bible, unenlightened though they are) claim that all this, all this hate, is about "honor" and God.
I recently saw a production of "South Pacific," and I keep thinking of the song, "You Got To Be Carefully Taught," about how children learn to be prejudiced. It seems to me that it took some extraordinary teaching to get people to believe that Jesus espoused or endorsed all this bigotry and hate.
Either that, or it took a lot of people being scared shitless.
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