The Refectory Manager

The refectory . . . A place to nourish the soul. A place to share the savory comestibles, the sweet confections, the salty condiments of the things that matter. A place to ruminate the cud of politics. A place to rant on the railings of religion. A place to arrange the flowers of sanguine beauty. A place to pause in the repose of shelter. Welcome, my friend. The Refectory Manager

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Location: College Place, Washington, United States

Thursday, July 17, 2008

It was most definitely the egg

And on the fifth day, God mumbled something about making strange things with feathers that would fly through the air, and he thought it to be a very good idea. And when he came to inspect, he found this stupid looking thing standing on the ground, with feathers, not flying, jerking its head, cackling incessantly, scratching the dirt, and obviously gloating about some silly white oval thing lying there in the hooey. Now since God thought he created things with feathers that would fly, he was a little puzzled about how this Rube Goldberg contraption came about. And not knowing what on earth that little round thing was, he proceeded to shoveth it up the stupid thing’s rear-end to get rid of it.

And on the sixth day, after making Adam and Eve, he turned them loose to conquer the world. Now Eve ran across this stupid little thing struttin’ around, cacklin’ like crazy, just like it was gonn’ lay an egg or something. And lo! And behold! This dang little oval white thing just popped right outa’ its rear end.

Now Eve thought it would be funny to make Adam laugh, with his sore rib and all, and so she thought, “I’m gonna’ cook this thing that popped out of that stupid thing’s rear and make him eat it! Now how about that!”

And she did.

And he did.

And when Adam found out that what he just ate came out of that stupid thing’s rear end, he was not amused.

And to make certain it would never happen again, he figured he would cook that stupid feathered thing and make Eve eat it.

Adam happened to find a really good recipe with eleven secret spices for something called “Kentucky Fried Chicken.” Didn’t know what that was, but the picture looked intriguing. He then proceeded to pluck that poor stupid thing so it was really silly naked.

Adam named it “Chicken” ‘cause it didn’t seem to be too willing to cooperate.

Then Eve showed up wondering why Adam had his privates plumed in feathers and insisted that whatever he was doing with that gawd-awful naked thing, he better make sure it was heated up to an internal temperature of 165 degrees F for at least 15 seconds. Something about HACCP that she heard that snake over there in the tree mumble about. Didn’t know what HACCP was, but that snake sure sounded ominous.

And lo and behold, God came down to check out what was smellin’ so good, and started lickin’ his fingers in anticipation.

And all of them pronounced it “good.”

So there you have it.

The easy-over egg did come before the Kentucky Fried Chicken.

The Refectory Manager

Thursday, July 10, 2008

I mi that letter

The dual purpoe cover/keyboard to my little tablet computer took an inulting hit. I know I have abued the poor thing, but to looe that letter of all letter. When I dicovered it, my immediate reaction wa “hit! I can’t even ay hit!”

Needle to ay, I’m not amued.

Nor wa I yeterday after that enate vote to pardon Buh from 40 ome felonie with that telecom immunity legilation evicerating the 4th Ammendment.

The 4th Amendment i jut o quaint.

Who in the hell need that? What a nuiance it i when fear i the operative word. Oh, the thing we get from fear. Intertate high way for one . . . . needed to get people out of the citie when Ivan nuke. At leat that wa the excue Ike ued to get them tarted.

Now it i all thoe internet. Thoe pipeline or whatever that enator from Alaka called them. And all thoe atellite channel. Brain-cooking cell phone call. Who care what atellite they bounce off of a long a it in’t poitioned omewhere out over CONU.

But maybe thing are jut hunky! ome contractor geek for NA i correcting my grammar for me. How nice.

And here Obama i the one that voted capitulation and Clinton held her ground. ix week I ago I would have worn it would be the other way around. And McCain did no vote at all.

It o much more exciting when there are real voting choice.

Like chooing between one entrenched party that deecrate the Contitution and another entrenched party that reliably capitulate in that deecration.

And the Libertarian are about a ueful a tit on a boar when they could effectively make a difference.

I wear I’m being forced to going back into ome fundie right-wing religiou-nut-fold and to pray to God that enough homo get married that we invoke the Tribulation.

Finally, mercifully, God then jut incinerate thi place, get it re-inoculated with pace alien, and let Darwinian evolution get it right the next time.

But wait. The fundie think they will be thoe pace alien. And they never did believe in Darwin.

What a mell of a he we are in.

And I don’t know if thi i all nark or not.

But I do mi the damn letter “s.”

The Refectory Manager

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Busting the Bung of Bunged-Up Patriotism

An advertisement in The Nation caught my eye. And this ad did what ads seldom do to me, compelled me to procure its offering.

The little red book, identified as a "pamphlet" by the authors, Eric Liu and Nick Hanauer, is entitled The True Patriot.

Thomas Paine and with his Common Sense is reincarnated.

As the authors concede in their pamphlet, not one idea expressed is original to them. So I too, shamelessly, take inspiration from them and incorporate ideas that I read in The True Patriot, reinforced with ideas that I have read over and over and over again in this and other political blogs, into yet another harmonic to recapture patriotism.

As our political machinery now seems destined for an epochal change, a tension of the repulsion from patriotism has been welling within me, to a bursting point. When I used to listen to that transfixing anthem I’m Proud to be an American, I would nearly be overcome with bursting emotion. Now, I cringe when I hear it. For my sanity, for my community’s sake, for my country’s survival, that feeling of a restored patriotism has got to become primal again.

This little red "pamphlet The True Patriot by Eric Liu and Nick Hanauer (Sasquatch Books, 119 South Main Street, Suite 400, Seattle, WA 98104) ruptured the bung holding back fomenting frustration over "patriotism."

That pamphlet has given me hope.

There is just something about that welling of internal wonderment and excitement and passion when one experiences "patriotism." At least, for me anyway, it used to be that way.

As a young lad emigrating from Canada to the United States in the fall of 1961, the excitement of listening to (and singing) the The Star-Spangled Banner, and My Country, 'Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty (even though the music to that is also that of God save the Queen!), and America . . . Oh that wistful, mournful America, it all made me feel so hopeful, so optimistic, so belonging, so much a part of a new place, a new culture, a new hope, a new opportunity, a new life.

My introduction to the US national anthem was by watching the NHL hockey games on that old Esso sponsored TV program Hockey Night in Canada. Four of the six NHL teams were in the US. I heard that national anthem frequently. And when my father made plans to go back to school to a get a degree in electrical engineering at a small denominational college in Washington State, I was pumped and ready to go.

As a male student in the college-affiliated, religious high school, I was required to take MCC (Medical Cadet Corps, kind of like Junior ROTC but instead of preparing one to become an officer, it was how to be a conscientious objector medic drafted into the U.S. Army). I hated MCC. With a passion. (I know it was that latent homo thing where homos and fags supposedly hate physical activity stuff and competitive manly feats).

But three years later when I was in college, because of transferring from a semester-based school back to a quarter-based school, I was out of school for 6 weeks in the spring of 1965 and subsequently lost my student deferment to the military draft.

For the one who so hated MCC, I subsequently spent 23 years in the U.S. Army.

And wonderfully, there were incidents where "patriotism" was an overwhelming experience.
Certainly those massive theatrical productions produced by the soldiers of the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard -- the ceremonial unit that among the so many things they do, guard the Tomb of the Unknowns), just infuses the awesomeness of patriotism within one’s self. The sheer power and might of the theatrics. The pageantry of the fife and drum. The blasts from the canons. The repelling from rafters. The chorus, the soloists, the instrumentalists . . . Oh, those performances are simply overwhelming with a bursting pride of patriotism.

And then to watch those old men and women wearing the remaining parts and pieces of their old uniforms, walk and shuffle and ride in their wheel chairs as part of the Veterans of Foreign Wars contingent at the local Fourth of July celebration. It does affect me.

And I so remember that night in a concert hall in Denver at the time that "Desert Storm" was breaking out. It was while I was attending a professional convention. Part of the convention was a patriotic concert which included Lee Green Wood, in person, singing that infectious song I’m Proud to be an American. The power of the amplified percussion, the cadence, the lyrics . . . I thought my heart was going to jump clean out of my chest.

And then, to listen to Taps where the casket is drapped. When patriotism is the flow of a silent tear.

At least those experiences of "patriotism" did that to me. It used to. I pray to God it will again.

But these past 8 years have profaned patriotism.

Once what was beautiful and sacred – is now a based pornography.

The Founding Fathers and our earliest citizens treasured and cared for the foundation of "patriotism" as a moral commitment of "all," to the common "good of all."

But something has happened. I knew my frustration was welling. I didn’t recognize it as being a function of "patriotism" per sae. I was simply aware that I have become more angry and frustrated with what I have perceived as thy hijacking of things patriotic.

For some reason, I have thought that "being" filled with pride was enough. Yes, I have done some yelling and screaming out of my frustrations, but never the next required step.
But that book The True Patriot was an epiphany for me.

I see now it takes "earning" that pride by not only just "appreciating" this country’s manifesto, but actually participating in the creation and sustaining of America’s greatness.

It means being proud of how we treat each other. All of us. The brown and the red and the yellow and the black and the white; the man, the woman, the child; the straight, the gay, the intersexed; the old, the young, the rich, the poor, the gifted, the mundane.

It means how we plan for the future . . . we, as society, together, with a common ambition of that "American Dream" for all of us.

It means how we meet challenges and threats.

True patriotism celebrates the hard choices needed to create more opportunity for more people, and the values that guide those choices.

But these past 8 years . . .

A hijacked patriotism that demands the wearing of a flag pin while burning the constitution.

A hijacked patriotism that says that the pursuit of happiness means getting as much for yourself as you possibly can. That the accumulation of wealth is some Biblical, righteous thing.

A hijacked patriotism that has flipped honest diversity and dissent into threats of cohesiveness and comfort to our enemies. To disagree is to be a terrorist.

A hijacked patriotism that defines "their" ideology as the only pure way,. A patriotism that champions an ideology over the facts of science or common sense.

A hijacked patriotism that says "we’re number one, ‘cause we’re the biggest, the richest, the mightiest, the best."

A hijacked patriotism that flaunts the wealth of the wealthy, the "idol" of America’s Idol, the CEO over the laborer, the non-wage-earner over the wage-earner as proof of "successful’s" virture.

A hijacked patriotism that treats the land, air and water as some personal, expendable, damnable dominion, to be profanely exploit as desired.

A hijacked patriotism that "loves" America, but "hates" the government.

A hijacked patriotism that cries with distain that taxes take away the hard-earned money of self-made men . . . never conceding there is no such thing as a "self-made" man.

Decades of hijacked patriotism.

And during the last 8 years in particular, the right has grabbed the stuff of patriotism.
The PC meme is that being "right" means loving America, that being "left" is to look down on her.

The PC meme is that conservatives are proud to wave the flag – to flaunt the greatness of America; that being liberal is to be embarrassed at the chest thumping symbolism and then to think only of America’s errors.

And so the hijacked patriotism of the "rah, rah," the "me, me", the "biggest, biggest," the "bestest, bestest," the "I am because I am," the love of country as a narcissistic version of supervised individualism is not patriotism at all. Nothing at all like that old patriotism at the founding of this nation.

For that old patriotism is I am because we are.

And as Eric and Nick express over and over in their little pamphlet, to love country is to love our children – to practice a creed that promises them a better life before it promises us anything.

To love country is giving ourselves to a cause and a purpose that is larger than ourselves.

To be patriotic is to make liberty worth having, to make the pursuit of happiness deeper than the quest for personal pleasure.

To be truly patriotic is to leave a legacy of progress and possibility.

It is time that both liberals and conservatives hear this message. That the patriotic path is grounded in common sense, guarded by traditional virtues, and focused on progress.

When one side taunts "Love it or leave it," and the other snipes back "I’ll stay if I like it," and one thinks dissent is unpatriotic and the other thinks dissent is the only measure of patriotism - - it is so past the need for a change.

No nation on earth has America’s greatness of spirit and purpose. Sure, there other great nations, but no other nation on earth is dedicated to a proposition. No other nation was founded on giving people a second chance. No other nation prides itself on being the world’s laboratory for demonstrating what happens when you intermingle the people of the earth.

And so this immigrant Canuck, a wide-eyed latent gay 15 year old, who sweated the cold sweats when singing the Star-Spangled Banner, who wore the uniform for 23 years, who voted "conservative," i.e. Nixon at his first opportunity to vote after becoming a citizen, who since became repulsed by everything "right" in these last 8 years -- this kid, this man, this old man is tired of the "why" in patriotic politics. Tired of the contents in the plumbing of the politics of patriotism.

Instead - - I commit to do my part in fostering that sense of the old patriotism - -

To foster freedom – with responsibility. To recognize that:

Freedom without responsibility is selfishness.

Freedom without sacrifice is cowardice.

Freedom without tolerance is prejudice.

Freedom without stewardship is exploitation.

Freedom without compassion is cruelty.

That old sense of patriotism measures our nation’s progress by whether "every" citizen has a fair shot on a level playing field -- by the degree to which we promote the common causes of "all" our citizens -- by how we measure a citizen’s worth by contribution to country and community, not by wealth or power.

There is just something about that welling of internal wonderment and excitement when one experiences "patriotism." At least, for me, it used to be that way.

I pray to God it will be that way again.

And to Eric Liu and Nick Hanauer, thank you, for bursting that bung of welled up frustrated patriotism within me.

The Refectory Manager