A Fine Idea That I Wish Were Mine...

We progressives KNOW that we care more about humanity than conservatives do, who seem to care only about themselves, the rich. What we DON'T know is how to convey that message to a large enough chunk of the voting public that our policies can take hold and do what they were meant to do... much the way Roosevelt's New Deal did following the Great Depression. Heck, Social Security and Medicare are FROM the New Deal and have tried to guarantee a long life for every American since the plans were enacted.

How do we mobilize our vast majority of reasonable, progressive, nonpolitical people? How can we enable the 'power of the vote' to turn this country around and make it great again? Drew Westen has a studied idea to solve that dilemma. He is Professor of Psychology and Psychiatry at Emory University and the author of the forthcoming book, The Political Brain.

The article he has written detailing a progressive solution is reproduced in its entirety below:

•••••••••••••

A Message for Progressives

It's time we started growing the economy and stopped shrinking the middle class.

DREW WESTEN | February 16, 2011

Progressives are not fond of "talking points": We like to think in sentences, paragraphs, and even articles and books if it takes that long to fully flesh out an idea. Our ideas, so the story goes, are more "nuanced" than our opponents', and to some extent, that is true. Our Neanderthal cousins (I mean in evolution, not in the Senate, although they are there, too) might have expressed many of their basic thoughts with grunts and single-word utterances: Food? Good. Snake? Bad.

The same is true of contemporary conservative intellectual cave dwellers, or at least of their leaders in Congress: Taxes? Bad. Guns? Good. Government? Bad! Gitmo? Good. In fact, it is difficult to think of a conservative issue in which any qualifier is even necessary.

On the other hand, the idea that progressive messaging problems reflect primarily the nuance of our thoughts is a mistaken conceit, and a very costly one. The subtitle of this article is one of the most powerful statements we can make to the American people -- and especially to voters in the center -- and absolutely nothing the other side can say on economics can beat it. Or try this one: "I want to see the words 'Made in America' again."

Begin a message with that deceptively simple statement of values -- of work, American wages and benefits, America's place in the world, pride in what we produce -- and there is nothing the other side can say that can come within 40 points of that simple sentence in message testing or, more important, in electoral politics. (Just ask any of the Democratic leaders who ran with some variant of this message in November and now have the distinction among both their colleagues and their constituents of still having their job.)

Did we really need to give tax breaks to millionaires and billionaires, paid for by the working- and middle-class kids of the future as they stock Chinese goods at Wal-Mart (the much vaunted "service economy")? No. A simple, value-laden statement that I tested in September beat John Boehner's and Mitch McConnell's toughest language about "job creators" and "job-killing taxes" by nearly 40 points: "Millionaires and billionaires should be giving to charity, not getting it." Those words, had they been repeated by the White House and Democrats at all levels of government, could have seared into the brain of every American the difference between the two parties. Contained within that six-second sound bite were several key American middle-class values -- fairness, responsibility, opportunity, generosity, community -- that could have rolled off of every progressive tongue from mid-September until the Great Capitulation three months later -- and made that capitulation not only unnecessary but politically untenable.

Those are just single-line talking points. Let's expand our lexicon to two sentences: "We stand with the working- and middle-class Americans and the small businesses that create two-thirds of the jobs in this country. They stand with the millionaires and CEOs and big businesses that ship our jobs overseas."

That should have been a message Democrats made sure voters heard every time they turned on the news in the run-up to the election, and it should be the Democratic message going forward. As Republicans are fond of saying -- and they are right -- it's fine to compromise on policy but not on principle. Compromising on principle appears -- and is -- unprincipled. The danger in this "bipartisan" season of cheer, when a handful of Senate Republicans finally acquiesced in a series of policies that large majorities of Americans supported, is that Democrats will embrace the conservative narrative that because of the election results, they now have to abandon common sense, common values, and common decency -- even though Democrats still control the Senate and the White House. If progressives want to be relevant again, it is time to press "reset."

The problem is not that the American people fail to comprehend our "nuanced" ideas. They may not know that in the last 30 years, the CEO of their own company (if they still are employed) has gone from making as much in a day as they make in three weeks to making more in a day than they make in an entire year. Maybe they can't cite the statistics. They have, however, seen their own sacrifices, as they cut back once again on Christmas purchases from Target, while the Saks across the mall bustles.

Many Americans may not know that America, once an education leader among developed nations, is now ranked 12th when it comes to young people with a college education. But they know they haven't been able to put away a dime for their kids' education and have no idea how or when they ever will.

They may not understand the economics of job creation. But they saw with their own eyes that compassion for their suffering didn't rise to the level of compassion for the big banks on Wall Street. And in the absence of a compelling progressive narrative, they were willing to listen to snake-oil salesmen selling tea -- who told them a good story about what would make their financial situation better.

It didn't help that the candidates Americans voted for in 2008 and 2010 didn't explain how we got into the current mess or how we are going to get out of it -- other than to blame the big, bad Republicans with their super-minorities in both houses of Congress for saying no to everything. Oddly, the opposition of Democrats seldom obstructed George W. Bush when, over eight years, he pushed through nearly everything he wanted without ever having more than 55 Republicans in the Senate.

The problem is that we've given the American people the choice between the party of sadism and the party of masochism, between the party of sanctimonious bullying and the party of fear and trembling. That's not the choice we should be offering. We need an alternative to the narrative that government is the problem, not the solution (and hence to the wisdom of tax cuts, spending cuts, and blaming municipal and federal employees for our problems). Presented with a sensible narrative of what's happened to their country, Americans will know that government is neither the primary cause nor the primary solution to our problems. Here's an example: "It's time politicians stopped running for or against government and started running it well."

So let's tell the American people that the days of capitulating to the corporate special interests are over and that we progressives stand for making AmericaAmerica again -- a country that leads the world in manufacturing ideas and products, where the people who produce those ideas and products share in the fruits of their productivity -- and that we're going to make sure the American dream extends to everyone willing to work for it. (In that respect, repeal of "don't ask, don't tell" was a giant step forward, for which Democrats in Congress are to be congratulated.)

If we want to expand our lexicon just one more step to a paragraph-length narrative, here's one that starts with that "Made in America" sentiment and beats -- by more than 40 points with swing voters -- the toughest, most disingenuous free-market, deficit-hawk language the right can muster:

I want to see the words "Made in America" again. Reclaiming our place as the world's leader in manufacturing and agriculture isn't just essential to our economic strength; it's essential to our national security. Imagine if we had fought World War II without manufacturing plants and American-grown food. It's time we negotiate trade agreements that lift up American workers, not bring down their pay and benefits to the levels workers in Mexico and China receive. It's time we stop rewarding companies that ship our jobs overseas, and stop giving tax breaks to companies that shelter their money offshore. It's time we stop giving money to the big banks that are strangling small businesses, which are the engine of economic growth and job creation. It's time we manufacture the clean, safe energies of the 21st century, like wind and solar power, so we don't have to depend on other countries for fuel. We've led every technological revolution of the last century, and there's no reason we can't lead this one. It's time we balance free trade with fair trade, so that the working people who contribute to the creation of wealth share in it.

This message weaves together values that appeal to Americans across the political spectrum. It's about American leadership and America's place in the world and about expanding the concept of "security" from defense to economic security. It's about energy independence and how we can drill all the way to China, but we'll only see wind turbines when we get there. It's about fairness versus greed. It's about economic growth and prosperity. These aren't just the values of the "professional left" or people mainstream journalists undercut every time they say that this or that policy has "liberals" furious. These are American values.

•••••••••••••

As a progressive who likes to condense ideas down to their most essential facts, I feel compelled to add a few of my own talking points:

1. Wealthy ... good. Rich ... bad. VERY rich ... VERY bad.

2. Scientists will save our collective asses.

3. Become very well educated before speaking publicly.

4. Selfish is only good for the short term.

5. Remove fiction from political debate.

6. When polled honestly, NO scientist is a true theist.

7. Religious social policies drag us backwards as a race.

8. Don't believe empty issues-- they only hide the truth.

9. The very rich have modified the game so they always win.

10. If you want your country back you will have to get off your ass and take it back.

There are so many more, but these should get us started.

If we do nothing, we deserve our fate.

Copyright 2011 Bruce Ian Friedman

Casual Conversations in the Real World

essay

Two Moms at a Girl's Soccer Game

Tina: Kick it Glynnis, kick it! Ahhhh! So close! Nice try, sweetheart!

Arlene: That girl of yours is a powerhouse!

Tina: Then why hasn't she gotten one ball past your daughter?

Arlene: True, true... they're both quite good. But frankly, I hope Cloud doesn't end up as a soccer player. Hi, I'm Arlene.

Tina: Tina. You wouldn't be happy with an athlete for a child?

Arlene: Sure... but it's a tough life out there in the real world.

Tina: You got that right. But that's why I'd love it!

Arlene: Really? Why?

Tina: Well, first she has to become one of the top players, but if she can, she'll be set for life. Fame, money, status... she'll be beloved by millions.

Arlene: That's a rosy scenario you've just painted. Don't forget to fill it out with reality. She'll also be despised by millions of fans for the other teams. Her body will be in ruins after years of abuse, and she might never produce grandchildren for you. And that's only if she's one of the top! Not to be negative of course. Great stop, Cloudy!

Arlene: Of course. No grandkids, huh? That's not good. It's all I think about. What would you have your child do?

Arlene: I don't know. I've read up on societies all around the world and there are precious few that treat the average woman with any kind of respect. If my daughter isn't famous, rich or beautiful she's gonna have a tough time of it... unless she marries well.

Tina: Not in this country, though. We strive for equality, don't we?

Arlene: On the face of it and when times are good... then yes. But I would hate to think of what a tough economy would throw at her if she were not part of the elite. And what if she were below average? There are lots of homeless women.

Tina: You're making me weep! Surely you'd step in with assistance to help your own child? Go, go Glynnis!

Arlene: Of course I would... if I could. As we age our options decrease, and if our prosperity is not guarded closely we could be left destitute, unable to care even for ourselves. There are no good, permanent safety nets in our country, Tina.

Tina: Well, safety nets are tied into taxation, Arlene, and everybody tries to avoid paying taxes, after all.

Arlene: In a money-based society that's certainly true.

Tina: What other kinds of societies are there?

Arlene: Current societies? None, really. But I've been reading about one which, if it ever came to pass, might be exactly what humanity needs.

Tina: Wow. What makes it so good?

Arlene: It's not based on money.

Tina: Oh, communism! It exists, Arlene. It just doesn't work. Run kiddo run run run run!

Arlene: Not communism, though I agree with you-- communism doesn't work. No, this system also operates without leadership or political structure. No mayors, congressmen or special interests.

Tina: Fascism? Isn't that just a society which runs at the point of a gun?

Arlene: Fascism is... this one isn't. The author calls it a 'World Family'. At its heart is the premise that all humans must be treated well. Any other behavior, he claimed, damages the collective psyche of humanity. To that end, the World Family is truly run by the individuals, as a collective, which also means that there are no lethal weapons of any kind in that society. It would be like pointing a gun at our own children. Block! Block! Yeah, Cloud!

Tina: Crazy talk.

Arlene: Indeed.

Tina: So how does a society with no money incentivize work?

Arlene: Some background: According to the author, the chief products in a society such as this will be tangible. Food, housing, merchandise for living and pleasure, and the maintenance of it all. Scientific discovery will move into high gear, and so will art and entertainment. Most other businesses will be phased out. That equals more people for fewer jobs, which means lower hours per person. Directed placement will match jobs with innate talents, so that each person works at a job they like. Freely given housing, food, education and healthcare eases all forms of stress. Eliminating junk products frees up resources, as does comprehensive recycling, and guarantees that there will be enough of everything for everybody.

Tina: Sounds perfect. Now... how do we get from where we are to a World Family? Kick it, Glynnis! Kick it!

Arlene: Well, that's the rub now, isn't it? Our society has now drifted into mega-Capitalism, in which the few eventually get everything, leaving the bulk of humanity destitute. It's an unsustainable system and is doomed to fail, with the masses eventually fighting head-to-head with the armies of the rich. After the dust settles, any system has a chance at success, depending on the power backing. World Family is not a power-based system-- it's people-based. Only mass organization can bring it to fruition after a meltdown. It's better to plant the seeds now, before the implosion, while mass organization is possible using the Internet. But as I'm sure you're aware, the people who have everything-- the rich and the powerful-- would view this as a major step down and would fight it with every inch of their bottomless reserve. World Family is based on trust and honesty which barely exists. Both of those have been supplanted, to our great disadvantage, by the contract and the courtroom.

Tina: So we're doomed, then?

Arlene: Looks that way.

Tina: In that case, the first Cosmo is on me. Score! Score! Score!

Arlene: You're on. Good effort, Cloud!

Customer in a Bar

Customer: Hey, bartender!

Bartender: What's up?

Customer: Can we kick off the TV? It's annoying as hell.

Bartender: I like to leave it on for the customers.

Customer: What customers? Look around-- I'm the only one left.

Bartender: Well... okay then.

Customer: Thanks. I didn't want to hear about that crap anymore anyway. All day and night. Boy, once they latch onto a story they shake it like a dog with a bone.

Bartender: Who, MSNBC?

Customer: Any of them! All of them! The whole damned business is like that.

Bartender: It's how they make a buck... sensationalism.

Customer: I remember when it wasn't like that. They used to just tell us the news. International, national, local and then sports. No flashy graphics, no pretty talking heads.

Bartender: Sounds like crap. Who'd wanna watch that 24-7?

Customer: Nobody. That's why they only showed the news twice a day, at 6 and again at 10, for half an hour each.

Bartender: That's it?

Customer: That's it.

Bartender: Just the facts?

Customer: And nothing else. None of this innuendo or doublespeak. No talking points. No selective reporting.

Bartender: Actually sounds better. Wonder why they stopped?

Customer: It wasn't profitable.

Bartender: I can imagine.

Customer: Plus, someone figured out a way to make the news entertaining.

Bartender: How did they do that?

Customer: They set scientists on the problem.

Bartender: What kind of scientists?

Customer: Psychologists and sociologists, mostly. The people who study human behavior individually and in groups.

Bartender: What did they find out?

Customer:

As it turns out, even back then most people were sheep. They followed the pack without reservation. They liked looking at pretty people, they liked seeing shiny colors. They wanted movement on the screen. And worst of all...

Bartender: What? What?

Customer: Sound bites.

Bartender: Sound bites?

Customer: Sound bites. People wanted everything tied up into nice little packages. They didn't want to have to see all the gritty edges and loose ends of a complex situation. They wanted it all tied up in a box with a bow, easily digested, so they didn't have to think too hard.

Bartender: What's wrong with that?

Customer: What's wrong with that? What's wrong with that? Everything, that's what!

Bartender: Why?

Customer: That's when the scientists learned they could tell the audience whatever they wanted. As long as it was presented in a neat and tidy package, they wouldn't question it. That's when they started to lie to us.

Bartender: Whoa.

Customer: Whoa indeed. And once they realized they could lie and get away with it regularly, then followed an even worse behavior!

Bartender: Worse? Worse than lying?

Customer: Much worse. That's when they began to manipulate the public and change the course of human events, bending it to the whim of--

Bartender: Who? Who would lie to an entire nation?

Customer: World. An entire world.

Bartender: Who would do it? I have to know!

Customer: Short answer... the elite few super rich.

Bartender: Those bastards!

Customer: No lie. When media outlets began being owned by fewer and fewer corporations, the CEO's began requiring that all of their news reporters stress certain 'facts' more than others. So most news anchors in most markets used the same terminology to describe certain actions, coloring those actions in the minds of the viewers.

Bartender: How?

Customer: As an example, we know that Pluto is no longer a planet, right?

Bartender: Poor Pluto.

Customer: Er, of course. And it was scientists who made this decision to downgrade Pluto. Well, let's say that because of this, the CEO thinks the viewers should begin to mistrust scientists. He or she tells their reporters to call the action a 'flip-flop', to make the scientists seem weak and inept.

Bartender: Isn't it?

Customer: No. Science is in the business of acquiring new facts. Sometimes the new facts cause scientists to amend information which was formerly thought to be complete. That's not a flip-flop. That's a change of mind based on new, factual data, and scientists are happy when it occurs, because it's one more piece of the puzzle that's been figured out.

Bartender: So that's not a flip-flop?

Customer: No. If a politician was vocally pro-life and then women's rights became front page news in that term and he suddenly came out as pro-choice... that would be a flip-flop.

Bartender: I get it. He changed his mind without there being any new facts.

Customer: Right.

Bartender: But in that example, wouldn't women's rights becoming front page news be a fact?

Customer: Yes, but not a fact which affects abortion. If the fact was that abortions made women lose weight and he came out in favor of it because of that fact, well, he wouldn't be a flip-flopper.

Bartender: But he would be sleazy.

Customer: Oh, yeah. To the max.

Bartender: Scumbag.

Customer: Lower than camel crap. But back to the problem at hand. With this new power to sway the voting public, and with new infotainment channels dazzling viewers all day and night, it became easy to convince voters to vote against their own best interests... which happened to coincide with the rich CEO's best interests.

Bartender: That's not good.

Customer: Oh, that's very not good. Because as it turns out, what's good for the CEO's is linked to what's good for the normal people. Mess with the balance of the system a little and things get shaken up. Mess with it a lot and it comes down like a house of cards.

Bartender: And the CEO's have been messing with it a lot?

Customer: Like a 10 on the Richter scale.

Bartender: Hoo-boy!

Customer: Yup.

Bartender: Are we in too deep?

Customer: Pretty close.

Bartender: How do we fix it?

Customer: You ask big questions, do you know that?

Bartender: Momma says that, too.

Customer: Well, we can. But it's not going to be easy.

Bartender: Why?

Customer: We'd need to change the system away from capitalism, which motivates the rich to acquire everything in the first place. We need to move to an economy based on serving all people equally.

Bartender: And that would be hard?

Customer: We'd have to restructure everything. We'd have to educate everyone. We'd have to house them, feed them, clothe them and keep them healthy. And we'd have to do it without money.

Bartender: Money makes the world go round.

Customer: It doesn't have to.

Bartender: Whoever has the gold, makes the rules.

Customer: A-gain... it doesn't have to be that way.

Bartender: Money can't buy happiness... but it can buy the kind of misery we prefer.

Customer: My point exactly.

Bartender: What?

Customer: To rid us of misery, rid us of money.

Bartender: How would that work?

Customer: Imagine the problem. To live in a world with money can be done-- we're doing it now. To live in a world without money can also be done-- tribal groups live without currency. But try moving from a world that uses money, into one that doesn't... now that's a challenge.

Bartender: So we can't do it?

Customer: We can. But we have to run them concurrently, gradually increasing one and reducing the other.

Bartender: Seems tricky.

Customer: Sure would be. Some have suggested creating a second infrastructure based on resources and equality-- new mining, new power, new products. Those people who are enrolled in the new system work at jobs without compensation, live in homes that cost nothing and eat foods and wear clothes which are provided in stores for no cost.

Bartender: What stops them from taking everything?

Customer: At first, a simple equivalency chart, where people choose things from a list based on their needs. Soon, people in the system only take what they need naturally. It would feel strange to be selfish knowing it might deprive someone else.

Bartender: Doesn't that assume a basic good in people?

Customer: It does indeed. But fortunately it seems to be true. We know that children learn what we teach them, and learn from their environment. The real potential for this system is in the future generation of people, whom we all strive to make better than ourselves. To do that all parents need guidance and assistance, and all children must be carefully monitored to minimize the negative experiences which, if left to fester, creates negative adults.

Bartender: So, Big Brother?

Customer: More like Nice Mama. Punishment is a behavior of the current world, not the future one. We'd all be working together to make a better world. If you have some kind of problem, you'd be encouraged to speak on it. Counselors would be there to help make things work, regardless of the issue. Imagine if someone had been there to guide you into a field of work which complemented your particular abilities, would you still have been a bartender?

Bartender: Hey! I like talking to people and taking care of them!

Customer: Fantastic! Then who's to say you wouldn't have made a perfect counselor?

Bartender: Hmm...

Customer: Right?

Bartender: Hmm...

Customer: Penny for your thoughts?

Bartender: Here's my thought: Where do I sign up?

Customer: Man, I wish I knew. It hasn't happened yet, as far as I know.

Bartender: If it did, do you think they would even announce it?

Customer: You make a good point! They'd have to keep it quiet, at least in the beginning, or risk getting overrun by people not suited for the system.

Bartender: How would we find them?

Customer: It's possible they'd find us.

Bartender: How do you mean?

Customer: People of a certain personality type, with a certain education, displaying a certain decency might be contacted outright. Maybe there are classes being offered somewhere which appeal to a type of person who would fit into a perfect world like that. In that case volunteers would come to them. Again I say you ask good questions! They may have started this already, and how would I know?

Bartender: If they exist, I'm gonna find them!

Customer: What if they don't exist?

Bartender: Then I'm gonna find a group of like-minded people and start a group.

Customer: Well, consider me your first member.

Man and Woman in a Hotel

Man: (removes jacket and shoes) How was your evening?

Woman: (removes jacket) Same old, same old. Busy. Yours?

Man: You know. Sucks to be me.

Woman: I can imagine. It's no picnic for me either, you know?

Man: (begins removing shirt) I'll bet. There are some rude assholes out there.

Woman: (helps with his buttons) Yeah but... it's not them. I can handle them. It's the stinkers.

Man: The stinkers? Who are the stinkers?

Woman: You know. The... great unwashed.

Man: (unclasps belt, lays it on the floor) Oh. You mean the literal stinkers.

Woman: (unbuttons and unzips his pants) Oh god. I keep air freshener with me at all times.

Man: You'd think they'd take better care of themselves.

Woman: I think they just don't care. They already hate themselves for coming to see me.

Man: (slips out of his pants and kicks them away) Why? You serve an important function. Think of where they would be without you.

Woman: I think they hate me more than they hate you. But the money makes it tolerable. Close your eyes.

Man: Ahhhhhh!

Woman: Mmmmmm.

Man: Wait... let me take these off before they get sticky.

Woman: You are huge!

Man: Beginning to have second thoughts?

Woman: Not a chance. I consider it a challenge.

Man: (slides off her sweater smoothly) Lovely.

Woman: (slipping her skirt off) Get on the bed.

Man: No underwear, huh?

Woman: It gets in the way.

Man: I'll bet.

Woman: (straddling him) E-gad! It's a can of tennis balls.

Man: Don't exaggerate.

Woman: (faint) H-hh-h-hhh-huh! It's a frickin' submarine sandwich!

Man: Urgh.

Woman: Uh! You couldn't pay me to do this.

Man: No. This one's an even exchange.

Woman: Worth it to me. UUHH! Doubly so.

Man: So ...uhh! why'd you choose ...uhh! this particular service ...uhh! industry?

Woman: I already had the skill set. Huhhuhhhuhh! It doesn't last forever, you know. Gah!

Man: But the danger! The risk! Take it you slut!

Woman: That, if you can believe it, go big dog! that was part of the appeal.

Man: I can. That's true in my line as well. Take THAT.

Woman: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Man: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

Woman: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHH!

Man: URGH... ahhhhhhhhhhh!

Woman: (panting) Swampy!

Man: (panting) Yup.

Woman: (panting) I wish they were all like you...

Man: You'd go broke. Hell, you'd be broken!

Woman: Then I'd starve... a broken but happy woman.

Man: What will you do down the line? After all this?

Woman: I don't know. Maybe go back to school. But I don't have to think about that now. I'm still in my prime.

Man: I'll say you are! Wanna take a shower?

Woman: Sure. (enters steaming stall) Say, why didn't you just take me in like the others do?

Man: I saw potential in you.

Woman: Well, that's good to hear.

Man: Besides, the paperwork's a killer and you'd be out in 45 minutes.

Woman: Still... that is the job, right?

Man: One of the worst parts of it. Talk about arcane! The guy who wrote that one must have really been a stiff.

Woman: Speaking of stiff...

Man: Gah! You have a good grip.

Woman: Is this big present all for wee little me, Santa?

Man: It sure IS!

Woman: Eeeek!

Man: Here it is AGAIN!

Woman: Ungh! Go, big daddy!

Man: Okay... this feels a little pedophile-ish.

Woman: (in baby talk) Does big big man wan baby girl to wick his big, big sawami?

Man: Stop that!

Woman: What, this? (crouches down)

Man: Dear god, don't stop!

Woman: Don't...!

Man: Stop...! Oh... again...

Woman: Good thing we're in the shower.

Man: Here's the soap.

Woman: I'll just rinse my mouth out.

Man: Hey, what would you have been... you know... if your life had turned out differently?

Woman: A schoolteacher.

Man: Really!

Woman: Yeah. I love kids. How about you?

Man: A rock 'n' roll god.

Woman: That makes sense. Now I understand the tattoo.

Man: I was much younger then... and wanted to be Yngwie Malmsteen...

Woman: TMI.

Man: I guess.

Woman: Life throws us some curve balls, huh?

Man: More like sliding, looping, spiral balls.

Woman: And occasionally, a pair of low hanging...

Man: Don't finish that.

Woman: (exiting shower, getting dressed) So how about now? What other job would you prefer over this one?

Man: Almost any.

Woman: A lot of you guys love the job.

Man: We're not all alike.

Woman: That's for sure. Some of you just don't measure up, like...

Man: La la la la I'm not listening!

Woman: Ha, ha! Kidding. I mean... the power is a real draw for some.

Man: Not for me. I really prefer desk duty.

Woman: Oh? Then our arrangement isn't some sort of power flex on your part?

Man: Ummm...

Woman: Well?

Man: No... but there might have been an... emotional component... to my actions.

Woman: Oh my god... you like me!

Man: (uncomfortably) Well, I gotta get back on the beat.

Woman: Oh, no you don't! Not after an admission like that!

Man: What do you want me to say?

Woman: The truth is a good place to start.

Man: Fine. I... I... have, umm... feelings for you. Okay? I brought you here to get you away from work.

Woman: Felt a little like work.

Man: Hey!

Woman: Well...?

Man: I got a little carried away. Sorry.

Woman: No big. Hmm...

Man: What?

Woman: I'm thinking about making a decision.

Man: What kind of decision?

Woman: I'm considering your proposal.

Man: My proposal? Did I propose?

Woman: Haha. How far away from work did you want to get me?

Man: As far as you want to go.

Woman: Are you gonna join me?

Man: Repeatedly.

Woman: I'm serious.

Man: Thinking about it.

Woman: What about the wife and kids?

Man: You can bring them.

Woman: Funny. Not what I meant.

Man: Yeah, I know. I don't have any.

Woman: Really? So... you're looking to begin one?

Man: Might be nice.

Woman: Big change for both of us.

Man: Yes.

Woman: Okay.

Man: Okay?

Woman: Yes.

Man: What about your job?

Woman: What about it?

Man: Will you stop?

Woman: Why?

Man: Well... should you continue?

Woman: Won't we need money? I have no other skills.

Man: We have my job.

Woman: No offense, but I make eight times what you do.

Man: Oh! Now, that's something to consider.

Woman: It is?

Man: That's a lot of scratch.

Woman: It IS.

Man: There's nothing else you can do?

Woman: Not really.

Man: It would surely be awkward.

Woman: How do you mean?

Man: You in your job and me in mine... married.

Woman: Who said anything about being married?

Man: I... I... just assumed...

Woman: Haha! Joking! I'll marry you, ya big lug. I've had my eye on you.

Man: You have?

Woman: Oh yeah. You've been on this beat awhile.

Man: True.

Woman: You've passed me a bunch.

Man: Really? I don't remember.

Woman: I keep a disguise nearby for when you boys show up.

Man: You do?

Woman: A huge old overcoat and torn straw hat. And a tin cup. I just sit on the ground and shake the cup, head down.

Man: Wait... YOU'RE beggar Joe? That's brilliant!

Woman: Thank you, thank you. Anyway... I can usually see you. From the waist down. Made me hungry.

Man: Thank you, thank you. So what about it?

Woman: What about what?

Man: Would you go to school?

Woman: I'd have to get a diploma first.

Man: You didn't finish high school?

Woman: Or junior high. I'm from the school of street.

Man: Oh.

Woman: What?

Man: Nothing.

Woman: Tell me.

Man: I always wanted my kids to be home schooled.

Woman: Why?

Man: I don't trust the public schools.

Woman: I can see why. They are hell holes. Well, maybe you can teach them.

Man: My job now doesn't require a lot of brains, just obedience. Blind obedience.

Woman: Not great teacher material.

Man: Nope... not so much.

Woman: So what are we to do?

Man: Can we figure it out later?

Woman: That's a lot of figuring.

Man: We'd have to work in different areas. I couldn't patrol the area you work anymore.

Woman: I see. Are you going to transfer?

Man: I wasn't planning on it... why?

Woman: My regulars know where to find me. I'd have to start over if I moved.

Man: That would trim the bacon.

Woman: Sure would.

Man: Well... okay.

Woman: Okay what?

Man: I'll put in for transfer.

Woman: You are one big hunk of sweet, you know that?

Man: You're welcome.

Woman: This might just work out.

Man: Seems that way. You wanna move in with me?

Woman: What do you have?

Man: A one-bedroom fourth-floor walkup on 14th.

Woman: Err... maybe you should live with me.

Man: Is yours better?

Woman: A penthouse suite with a doorman by the park.

Man: Wow.

Woman: I shake off the streets pretty well.

Man: Amen to that. Okay... I can move in with you.

Woman: You sure that's not an ego crusher?

Man: I'm bigger than my ego.

Woman: That's my man!

Man: But one thing...

Woman: What?

Man: I should keep the place.

Woman: What on earth for?

Man: Cover. I have friends from work. Gritty friends from work.

Woman: So bring 'em! Class 'em up a little!

Man: Ummm... they can get a little... messy.

Woman: How messy could they be?

Man: Okay, not messy... more blind drunk. Passing out in their own puke. I keep a hose nearby.

Woman: Oh, wow.

Man: Are you judging?

Woman: No! No judgement. But you keep the place. It's for the best. Puke stains marble.

Man: I did not know that. You have marble floors?

Woman: Yes.

Man: So... shall we start today?

Woman: Can't. I have to wait a little while.

Man: For what?

Woman: Umm... I need to get you approved.

Man: Huh?

Woman: My building has a strict policy.

Man: Against what?

Woman: Certain... occupations.

Man: They would mind my career?

Woman: Hell, yeah.

Man: But why?

Woman: I'm... not the only tenant with my credentials.

Man: Really? How many?

Woman: All of 'em.

Man: There's an entire building dedicated to people in your line of work?

Woman: There are dozens. It's a busy craft.

Man: Wow. I may need to sit down.

Woman: It's the world we live in.

Man: How do you figure?

Woman: Society created the institution of marriage. And then made it monogamous. And because men are... frisky, a lot friskier than their wives, a need arose which brought about my business. And then society made what I do, illegal. Naturally some protections are going to evolve for my work, being as important as our fucked up society made it. So we pooled our money and made these fortress buildings.

Man: Did you say 'fortress' buildings?

Woman: Should the alarm sound, all access to the upper floors is cut off, insulating us from any 'incidents'.

Man: But that would trap you!

Woman: Then there's the escape routes.

Man: Routes? Plural?

Woman: It's all been figured out. Don't worry. I've got a plan to get you in.

Man: Really? What?

Woman: You need a disguise.

Man: What kind of disguise?

Woman: A police uniform.

Man: How would that be a disguise?

Woman: It would be a tearaway uniform.

Man: Like a...?

Woman: That's right. A stripper. A male stripper.

Man: How well do they do?

Woman: Male strippers? They rake it in all right. Why?

Man: My job is dangerous and pays like crap.

Woman: Well... if you're thinking of moving up, I could certainly get you started. And it would help not having to disguise you.

Man: Unbelievable.

Woman: What?

Man: I can't believe the turn this day has taken.

Woman: Unpredictable, right? Another feature of our modern society.

Man: I need to brush up on my dance moves.

Woman: There's an app for that.

copyright 2011 Bruce Ian Friedman

Leave the NRA Alone-- A Liberal's Essay

essay

Someone close to me once suggested I start my articles with a twisty title, something which seems illogical at first glance. "It'll draw readers in" I was told, and being a novice writer I agreed. I amended my style to include all manner of interesting (I thought) headings, one such subset being the single-sentence flip-flop, as exemplified above. Interesting or not, it does seem to cause a brief stopover to my site from our webpage-flipping society, and so you can expect to see more such tidbits in the near future.

But what the hell does it even mean? you ask, and I would expect nothing less from you. Keen insight brought you here, and my onionlike bequeathment of information is what I hope will keep you here. I know it seems, based on the title, as though I am both for and against the National Rifle Association. That's not so much a flip-flop as it is an admission that the topic is both complex and controversial. Let's start with the basics.

The NRA was established in 1871 with the primary goal of protecting the 2nd Amendment. It advocates gun ownership rights for the general citizenry, as well as gun safety, marksmanship and the protection of hunting and self-defense rights. This made perfect sense in the 1900's. Back in 1871 gun production for sale to the public was limited to rifles, shotguns and handguns, all single-shot weapons.

Today is another matter. Modern designs have made weapons that discharge an alarming capacity of bullets. Today one person can fire the equivalent of an entire 1870's battalion worth of ammunition, effectively turning one man into an army. I doubt the founders of the NRA could have foreseen this kind of power. They might have felt differently about unrestricted access if they had known that in a hundred years a single man would have the ability to kill tens of thousands of people in just one minute with a rapid fire automatic machine gun. And currently there are guns which can fire 1 million rounds per minute.

And yet, I am not advocating any such restriction.

Yes, I am a liberal. Let me continue.

Let's talk about the receivers for a moment. Not the holders of the gun... the, err, 'holders' of the bullets which came from the gun at high speed. They go by many names: Criminals, perpetrators, enemies, victims, spouses... but one thing they have in common is that they are all human.

And one thing we can be sure about humans is they are complex creatures, not easily grouped into any one category. So although that dead guy on the ground oozing blood might have been called a 'fleeing suspect' to you... somebody else might have called him dad. Or husband, brother, son. Or a good singer. Maybe a kickass checkers player. Maybe even a helluva nice guy.

Now he's got just one title. Dead. All of his potential and all of his flaws have just been ended by you. You became judge, jury and executioner. You became GOD.

Do you really have that right? Do you even want it?

I know I picked a weaselly example, causing you to shoot somebody in the back. Sorry. I'm sure if you were staring down the barrel of a gun which had just been used on your family you would be justified in stopping the shooter with extreme prejudice. Sadly, there are some people in the world like that, and far be it from me to tell you 'NO' when leveling a deadly weapon at him to protect what's yours.

But those situations happen rarely when compared to the overall causes of gun death. Most (non-police caused) gun deaths are in the 'accidental' and 'suicide' columns, which begs an entirely different question that will be touched upon a little later. Still you have to ask yourself if there's a better way to defend yourself, without the very heavy response of 'lethal force'. I don't care how much the perp might have deserved it, you will have to live with killing a person and having to watch them die for the rest of your life. If you don't think that affects you, ask a psychiatrist. Sometimes it destroys you.

What's the solution?

I'm glad I asked.

As we know, guns are everywhere. There's no point trying to recall them or make them illegal. If you do then only criminals will have guns, because the honest will turn theirs in. Well, I have a different slant. Keep the guns, the shotguns, the semiautomatic weapons. Keep 'em all. Hell, distribute them to people who don't have them yet. Make sure everybody can shoot a thousand shots a minute...

...BUT CHANGE THE AMMUNITION!

That's my point. GUNS don't kill people, unless you hit them very hard on the head with one. No, BULLETS kill people. Every time.

I advocate using our new technology to redesign ammunition. I no longer want to see a souped up version of a musket ball hurtling through the air on its way to some unfortunate do-badder. Nobody deserves to die for stealing, or raping, or anything which doesn't, in itself, take a life.

We need to be able to load all of our weapons with same-shaped but now nonlethal projectiles.

I know that bullets are currently everywhere. I'm saying stop making them. Stop selling them. Melt 'em down for fishing weights. Eventually all the bullets will be used up. You can still hunt with nonlethal weapons, knocking the animal submissive with the new ammo... it just means you have to kill the bear or lion or rhinoceros or elephant with a sharpened edge once you get to them. Hey... that's REAL hunting. No more cowardly, Palin-style shoot-em from the helicopter embarrassments. Call yourself a hunter then and people will actually respect you, with images of you in their mind jumping into the Everglades with a dagger in your teeth, joyfully taking on a 20 foot alligator in the foamy, thrashing water.

I can think of a number of possibilities for non-lethal ammunition right off the bat. I could see a mini stun-gun, bullets which are high-voltage batteries that shock the victim into submission. Perhaps bullet-shaped syringes with medical depressants or psychedelics, causing the bad guys to lose their balance and become ineffective at fighting or targeting.

How about mini-beanbags which enlarge during travel and knock the wind out of someone? Or shells filled with a gummy foam which expands and solidifies quickly, rendering the assailant immobile? Or a bolo apparatus? Or a sticky net? Or tear gas?

Those are several viable choices, and I'm not even a scientist. Who knows what brilliant minds will think up to solve a problem without destroying it?

My point is this: Much of the commotion surrounding guns only exists because of the lethal nature of guns. There's no coming back from gunplay.

And even if a bullet doesn't kill, it will most likely cause grievous injury, sometimes causing the victim permanent disabilities, making them a lifelong burden on society. Even if they straightened up their act they could not give back.

Remember, humans are complex, You didn't just put a bullet into a bad guy. You put a bullet into a complex human mind, capable of potential greatness, as well as horror.

There are many reasons for being a criminal which don't involve being a bad person. They're trying to care for their family after they lost their job. They're just out having stupid fun. They slipped through the cracks and were never afforded training, and have no way to make a decent living. They're at the end of their rope. They have an emotional or mental issue.

None of those reasons are worth killing, or dying, for.

I hope I've made my point. And I hope my title makes sense to you now. Because even though I drew you in with a tantalizing header, it was always my intention to keep you interested with an essay of substance.

But if you're the kind of person who goes right to the end of a book, allow me to indulge you with a glaring, slap in the face, obvious summary:

Keep the guns. Change the bullets.

Oh, by the way... I said I'd touch upon accidental and suicidal gun deaths and I will, right now. I'm honest that way. With nonlethal ammunition the chances of accident or suicide go way down. You want to get rid of all suicides? Change society.

Copyright 2011 Bruce Ian Friedman

About Celebrations

essay

It's no secret that I like to celebrate for special events. Oh, I don't mean collective special events, like the Fourth of July or Sadie Hawkins Day (although it's also no secret that I'll accept nearly any reason to throw down); I'm talking about those truly special, me-only type of events. I like to let my hair down and be the person I only dream about most times. Sadly, sometimes the next morning I am painfully (sometimes blindingly) aware of what a bonehead the person I wish I could be all the time, is.

Today is one of those days.

For those of you obsessive types reading my blog and collecting all pertinent data on same, you'll know what today is. For the rest of you, you'll find out soon enough. For now be happy that I continue to plod forward with my cranial deluge, even while knowing full well that most of you have no idea what it is I am going to be celebrating today, once I finish typing and put the computer back into its double walled and insulated cage... which is where all dangerous creations must be stored. I have my own.

I won't be insulted. It would be a horrific waste of my time, and on this day of days that would be a real crime. If I were a religious man I could relax, knowing that after this pitiful number of decades allotted to me ends, I will still forever be able to celebrate this special day from either on high (hopefully) or down low (even more hopefully), but believing as I do that I can't be certain how many more years of celebration are in store for me, that would be dumb. Instead I accept your unintended ignorance with a magnanimous smile, dear reader and continue with my admittedly benign tirade.

You know I write. You hold the evidence before you and know I sometimes even write to excess, choosing topics from widely varying sources, all seemingly unconnected, until I cobble a tenuous joint between them and they suddenly, hopefully, fall into a skeletal and roughshod arrangement and begin making some sense to you.

What you may not know is that I have not done this forever. Well, of course you know I haven't done it forever; I haven't lived that long. But I haven't even written creatively for the bulk of my life, which in my overworked and underadverbed mind is what I meant when I said 'forever'. Except for assignments back in various establishments of learning from my youth, I have not put finger to key for the purpose of intellectual dissemination and creative outlet, at all.

That's not to say I haven't spend many a restless night over the course of my long life compiling these thoughts into a cogent form, getting them honed for my ultimate reveal, I have; boy oh boy, I have. But for creating an actual permanence of the recorded word, for building that mountain of description which will serve as a digital reminder of my thought process; now that I have not committed to the printed or electronic page.

Until recently.

Specifically, for two years. To the day. That's right... it's coming to you, don't push it away... as it turns out I'm celebrating an anniversary. I have been committing every squamous thought of mine to permanence for 730 days now, forcing you to read my mental diarrhea for 104 weeks. Maybe not forcing you... you are certainly free to avert your eyes or open a separate page plastered with sensual nudes of the Greco-Roman era...

but I am most surely attempting to fill your days with the great lost art of reading, and the even greater, loster art of thinking. Heck, I stick a few sexy pics in each post so you don't have to look for them yourselves, that's how much I want you to absorb my uniquity. Like the word uniquity. Twenty-four months of brand-spanking-new concepts, beliefs and invented words. How do you even stand it all? I know I can't. That's why I'm celebrating.

And exactly how will I celebrate two years of brainia? Yes, that's brain mania for those of you who still need insight into my thought process. Well, that's easy. You might almost call it a no-brainia.

I'm celebrating two years of writing-- by not writing!

I'm taking a day off! Not working the neurons, not taxing the synapses, not wearing my fingertips down to nubs. I'm going to spend the day in purely physical pursuits. Maybe a mud bath, maybe parasailing lessons. All right you got me... maybe a mud bath.

Or perhaps I'll hit an Indian Casino (is that racist? All right then, an AMERICAN indian casino? But, I've recently heard that ALL Americans are African Americans because of early human migration, so I guess the whole thing is moot) and try my luck at throwing away money. I could hit the beach and create one of my unique sand dungeons... but that really seems like too much work. Plus, using a shovel tends to atrophy the muscles needed for the delicate process of typing; at the end of a busy sand-shifting day I'm lucky if I can hunt-and-peck a shopping list using my outstretched thumbs.

And then there are the base human desires.

This is largely a G-rated post (with a few triple or quadruple X rated words thrown in) so I'll withhold specific descriptions... needless to say, I could hire a woman to play a vaccuum, to clean areas of my nether region or buy a bang-o-gram and beg them not to bother with the balloons... or the costume. You get the picture.

Or I could break with tradition and spend the next 24 hours asleep. I love sleeping! The only thing I like better than sleeping is waking up, rolling over and going back to sleep. The problem with that, as with many things in life, is how too much of a good thing suddenly becomes not good at all. Try as I might, when I attempt unchecked sleep I eventually get bored of it. So that's out... except for the normal four or five naps I regularly take in a single day. Hey, I need them... don't judge.

In deciding what I want to do with this special day, and in putting it all in written form for you, I realize I have placed myself into a Catch-22 situation. It turns out that in telling you all how I'm going to spend the day NOT writing... I actually wrote a fair amount.

So I'm going to stop now and find something else to do with my day. After all, it's my two-year writing anniversary.

Oh, I almost forgot-- it's also my birthday.

Copyright 2011 Bruce Ian Friedman