Screw You, Jimmy Carter. (And I Mean That In The Nicest, Most Non-Racist Way Possible)

There is something that has been weighing heavily on my mind, causing my thought process to alternate between "slightly annoyed" and "in a fierce and heaving rage." My ability to form cogent sentences takes a brief leave of absence, and I end up with a blog post with a word-count below 30. Since that post, I have been hoping that a little cool-down period would allow me to make more cogent arguments. No such luck. Instead the topic du jour is, "Are Obama's critics really suffering from a case of incurable racism?" I submit that we are NOT.

Sure, you've got a few nut-jobs out there who hate the idea of a black man in the White House. And I'm sure these are among some of Obama's most outspoken critics. But just because some people who disagree with Obama are racist, it does not logically follow that everyone who disagrees with Obama does so because he isn't white. If a certain percentage of serial killers happened to have eaten corn flakes for breakfast before committing murder, must we automatically assume that anyone who enjoys corn flakes in the morning is harboring murderous tendencies? Of course not! So Joe NutJob has a problem with Obama's skin tone. That doesn't mean Rep. Joe Wilson does, too.

"Surrounded by middle-aged white guys — a sepia snapshot of the days when such pols ran Washington like their own men’s club — Joe Wilson yelled 'You lie!' at a president who didn’t. But, fair or not, what I heard was an unspoken word in the air: You lie, boy!" (From Maureen Dowd's Sept. 13 NY Times Opinion piece.) Never mind the fact that Obama was, in fact, not being truthful at the time (specific language was added to the bill barring non-citizens from receiving taxpayer-funded benefits only after Rep. Wilson's outburst), according to Dowd, the only possible reason someone could feel so compelled to lose their cool in the middle of a presidential speech must be some sort of racial animosity. Because certainly there's no way someone could be offended by a president saying with a straight face that language that did not exist in the bill at that time did exist.

Added to Dowd's insipid drivel is the latest opinion of former president Jimmy Carter, who believes that "... it's based on racism ...there is an inherent feeling among many in this country that an African-American should not be president." And "those kind of things [protesters comparing Obama to Hitler or the Nazis] are not just casual outcomes of a sincere debate on whether we should have a national program on health care ...it's deeper than that." (Really? Someone ought to direct Carter's attention to the innumerable comparisons of Bush to Hitler and the Nazis. A few examples here, here, here, here... well that should be enough to get you started, anyway.)

After watching Carter's remarks (video here), my blood pressure did the same thing it did after reading Dowd's piece (that is, skyrocketed), and I had an unnatural urge to start hurling obscenities at my television screen. (As my children were nearby, I refrained from the obscenity-hurling and settled for posting an all-caps status update on facebook.) How dare Jimmy Carter assume that he has some sort of secret access to the minds of other people? How is it possible for a human being to possess that level of hubris?! (Rhetorical question-- I'm fairly certain that hubris is a synonym for politician.)

Unfortunately, until Obama is out of office, we who disagree with the current administration are pretty much stuck with this label. Calling someone a racist (or a Nazi, or a whatever-phobe) is the quickest and easiest way to delegitimize their argument.

I am not a racist. I dislike the political conduct of Obama. I also dislike the political conduct of a lot of other people. Unless you can prove to me that every politician I disagree with is black (or conversely, that every politician I agree with is white), I reserve the right to criticize our current president without needed to worry about whether I have latent racist tendencies.

I'd like to close by quoting Hillary Clinton (something I honestly never thought I'd say!):
"I think it's the duty of every American to speak out when you feel strongly that your president is headed in the wrong direction ...And I think we need to have a very vigorous debate."
(Of course, when she said it, George W. Bush was president and she was defending Jimmy Carter's right to call Bush's administration the worst in history. Still, surely she must hold true to the same principles today, right?)

Quote Of The Day

From Mark Steyn:

"And that, ultimately, gets closer than anything else he says to giving the game away. For most of the previous presidency, the Left accused George W. Bush of using 9/11 as a pretext to attack Iraq. Since January, his successor has used the economic slump as a pretext to “reform” health care. Most voters don’t buy it: They see it as Obama’s 'war of choice,' and the more frantically he talks about it as a matter of urgency the weirder it seems. If he’s having difficulty selling it, that’s because it’s not about 'health.' As I’ve written before, the appeal of this issue to him and to Nancy Pelosi, Barney Frank, et al., is that governmentalization of health care is the fastest way to a permanent left-of-center political culture — one in which elections are always fought on the Left’s issues and on the Left’s terms, and in which 'conservative' parties no longer talk about small government and individual liberty but find themselves retreating to one last pitiful rationale: that they can run the left-wing state more effectively than the Left can. Listen to your average British Tory or French Gaullist on the campaign trail pledging to 'deliver' government services more 'efficiently.'"

The Only Word That Comes To Mind Is "STUPID!"

Mareen Dowd is an idiot.

I'd say more but my computer is being uncooperative today. Plus, there's so much good football to watch right now.

What I Will Never Forget

I actually wrote this a few years ago, but now seemed like a good time to share it. I didn't change anyone's names, but no one did anything embarrassing, so I'm thinking they won't mind.

The alarm went off at 7 am as usual, and as usual, I rolled over and hit the snooze button. "Why does psychology have to start at 7:30 in the morning?" I thought to myself. I briefly contemplated skipping class, but decided not to, since I wasn't quite sure how many times I had already skipped it so far (and it being so early in the semester!). At 7:09, I almost hit the snooze again, but decided against that, too. It would leave me 10 minutes to get dressed and make it down to the science building, and I didn't feel like pressing my luck.
I rolled out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, slipped on some flip-flops, brushed my teeth, grabbed my backpack and headed to class, pulling my hair into a ponytail on the way. Class was uneventful that day. I went back to my dorm, slipped my shoes off, pulled my hair down and went back to bed. I had a little over an hour before I had to go to chapel, and a nap seemed like a really good idea.
I woke up feeling refreshed. I put on my make up and changed into nicer clothes. (Anyone who only saw me in psych class must have thought I was the most disheveled person on campus.) I curled my hair a little, then put on a favorite pair of sandals. "Now I look like Erika..." I thought.
I went downstairs and knocked on Amanda's door. Someone yelled for me to come in, and so I did. Linsy was sitting on her bed, catching up on classwork. Amanda was at the mirror, curling her hair. She looked up as I walked in. "Oh, you curled your hair today! It looks great!" she said, turning to finish her primping. "Thanks," I said, "I had a little extra time this morning, so I decided to go for it." Linsy looked up and gave me her best 'mom' look. "Did you skip psychology again?" she asked. "No, I just accidentally woke up from my nap earlier than usual today," I said, and we all laughed. There was a knock at the door and in came Bekah. "Are you ready?" she asked. "Just about," said Amanda, doing some final touches to her make up. "We're gonna be late if you don't hurry up," Linsy said. "Ok, let's go." Amanda said, stealing one last glance in the mirror and straightening her shirt.
We walked and talked until we reached the chapel, and once inside had to look awhile before finding four empty seats together. We were a little late. Worship had already started, so once we got situated, we joined in to sing.
After worship was prayer, and after prayer, the president of the college took the stage. No one commented-- it wasn't unusual for Dr. Young to speak during chapel. He had a somber look about him, which was something unusual, and the sanctuary was silent. "I've just been listening to the radio," he began gravely. "Not long ago, a terrorist group hijacked an airplane and crashed it into one of the towers of the World Trade Center." He paused. No one was looking anywhere except right at him. "Another plane hit the second tower not long afterward. And a hijacked airplane has also hit the Pentagon. Another hijacked plane has also crashed in a field in Pennsylvania." (Amanda had gasped at this last part.) People were starting to look at each other a whisper amongst themselves: "Is he serious? ...who would do that? ...what's going on?..."
He let us speculate for a few minutes before speaking again. "I would like all of you to take this time to pray." he said. "Pray for our country's leaders, for the people in New York and Wasington DC, the people on the planes, and their families." Everyone broke into small groups and began praying both aloud and silently. A little time later, we were all sharing whispered speculation. There was a general antsy-ness, as people wanted to head back to their dorms and turn on televisions and radios, log on to the internet, and call family. Chapel was dismissed early.
Still feeling sure in the back of my mind that there must have been some mistake ("but this is America... no one messes with us... are these people crazy?!), I called my mom. I tried to sound casual, as if I were merely making innocuous observations about the weather when I asked, "So did you hear about those plane crashes, Mom?" Obviously, I couldn't see her, but trust me when I say I know the exact look she was giving me when she replied, "Well, yeah, it's all over the news, Erika!" I asked her what had happened, and she pretty much told me the same thing that Dr. Young had announced to us, and my mind wandered while she was explaining until I heard her say, "Dad called and was wondering what was going on-- he could see all kinds of smoke, and traffic is stopped." I snapped back to reality quickly. "Huh? Where is he?" (Dad was a trucker at the time.) "Washington." Mom said. "DC?" I asked? She gave me 'the look' again (it's the kind of look you can year in someone's voice, trust me on this... I get this look more than I care to admit!) as she answered, "Yes." I asked if he was ok. She told me he was fine, just stuck in traffic. She told me that according to local news, there was a high level of official alertness (no those weren't her exact words, honestly I don't remember them specifically) in the area-- especially since there were several places in the surrounding area that could be considered potential targets. After a little bit of small talk, we hung up and I went back to my day. Classes were not mandatory today, Dr. Young had announced, and I used this an opportunity to catch up on various things that I had been putting off.

This seems an odd place to just end the story, but honestly that's where my "Where were you?" story ends. It's something I will never forget, and I think that even though my story doesn't involve running from an ash cloud on a NYC street, fleeing the Pentagon, or rescuing survivors, it does contain its own bit of poignancy. September 11, 2001 started out like any other Tuesday that year. Before it was even halfway over it became etched on the memories of an entire nation.

Another UK NHS Health Care Horror Story -OR- A Vision Of Things To Come

Jayden Capewell is dead. Because according to Britain's NHS guidelines, he wasn't old enough to warrant the care of a doctor. Born at just 21 weeks and five days, Jayden was just two days shy of the privilege of medical attention. Though his heartbeat was strong and he was breathing well, he only lived for two hours after his birth because the doctors actually flat-out refused to see him. Not only did his age hinder his access to health care, but it also prevented his mother from being given medicine to help stop labor. He was not allowed steroid injections to help speed the growth of his lungs. His mother, Sarah Capewell, even had to fight to be issued certificates of birth and death for Jayden; despite his being born obviously alive, she was told that she ought to just call it a miscarriage and get on with grieving.

Money quote (from the original article): "The rules were endorsed by the British Association of Perinatal Medicine and are followed by NHS hospitals." Note the absence of the term death panel here. However, as it turns out, the panel who authored these rules got to decide whether Jayden Capewell lived or died. He died. You don't have to name something a Death Panel in order for it to be that. The fact is, we'll never know whether Jayden could have survived with the proper medical treatment. And if we're not careful, this sort of medical "care" could be coming to a hospital or doctor's office near you.

Text Of Obama's Speech To Schoolchildren Released

You can find it here.

(I'm aware that it would be easier to just reprint it here, but for selections that large, I prefer to take you to the place I found it-- they did the heavy lifting, after all.)

Another Reason I Love Where I Live

My son's elementary school sent home a permission slip this afternoon, requesting parental approval to view Obama's speech to school children on September 8.

Not all school systems are offering parents this option. I'm always thankful that my son attends a public school that is as parent-friendly as his is. So many parents across the country have to worry constantly about how their child is being indoctrinated, and so far I've had to do very little de-programming with him.

Ben is also a very smart boy who, last year (kindergarten), informed all of his friends that they should NOT vote for Obama, because Obama would take more of their parents' money and they would have less to buy new toys and other fun stuff.

If you're interested to know, I've decided that Ben will sit in on the speech. We will be discussing it at different times over the long weekend, as well as after school Tuesday, and I think he's smart enough to make it through one speech without becoming an indoctrinated-for-life ObamaBot zombie.

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself (so I won't)

I'm just going to send you to this article, by Michelle Malkin, instead.