Abortion and Republicans

I have just returned from our local Republican convention, where I was elected delegate for both our senate district and the state of Minnesota. I want to recreate one particular moment in the convention while it is still fresh in my mind. We were voting on whether or not we should remove the following language from the Republican platform:

"Abortion without exception is wrong and should be opposed. We oppose partial birth abortions and forced taxpayer funding of abortions or abortion providers. Abortions performed on minors without parental consent are wrong and should not be forced on the people of Minnesota by their government."

The person who proposed this resolution was not in attendance, but when the floor was opened for discussion, his precinct chair timidly spoke on his behalf. He explained that the person who proposed this resolution said the Republican stance on abortion is already quite clear, and repeated many other times, and that this text was redundant and unnecessary.

There was a bit of a hush, and I could sense a quiet and uncomfortable aura invade the room. It seemed as if even broaching the subject of abortion was taboo and dangerous. To me, the chair seemed almost apologetic that such an obviously unpopular resolution would even pass the pre-screening. I can't remember for sure, but I think there were a few statements opposing this resolution so that the party was as firm as possible in its pro-life stance, and supporting it to broaden the appeal of the party.

The chair asked if there was anyone willing to speak in favor of the resolution—to eliminate the text—and you could almost hear the crickets. Silence. I felt almost on-the-spot, as this very topic had been swirling in my head, seemingly, all last night. I even woke up with the exact language that I would say in this situation. It was obvious to me that this resolution had no support at this point, and was about to fall flat on its face. With what seemed like an insane gesture, I raised my hand to be recognized. Suddenly, I was standing before about 80 Republican delegates, with what I knew would be a very unpopular position. Here is (pretty much) what I said:

"If God granted authority to any one person over another, it is that of a woman over her unborn child. He did not grant this authority to the state, but to her, and perhaps also to her husband, mother, and father. This idea that the state is the primary moral guardian is contrary to the origins of our founding fathers and the founders of the Republican party. If we cannot trust mothers and fathers to care for the lives of their children, both born and unborn, we do not have a society to protect in the first place. I am in favor of this resolution."

As I spoke, there were bitter stares, and a somber man was even lightly tapping his heart with his palm, and I remember not knowing what he meant, but he did not seem amused. I was less than comfortable, but spoke strongly. My heart was pounding and I was careful to articulate as well as possible. I knew that an argument against abortion being part of the platform altogether was outrageous and unexpected.

The chair asked if anyone else would like to speak, and I don't remember any other volunteers.

"I move to vote on this resolution." (chair)

"Second." (some delegate)

"All in favor of passing this resolution say 'ay.'"

"Ay!" (It sounded like less than half the delegates).

"All opposed..."

"Nay!" (It sounded like more than half of the delegates. I wasn't surprised. I expected it to fail).

"The nays have it," said the chair.

"Division!" Someone yelled this from the back. After a contestable voice vote, anyone can ask for what's called a "division," which is an actual tally of the vote, to be sure the "ay's" did actually have the majority (but voiced their opinions with less volume).

"All in favor stand."

Many people stood. Way more than I thought I had heard. The count was made.

"Now all opposed."

The others stood. Another count. It was much closer than I thought!

"34 in favor. The resolution passes," the chair said, obviously surprised.

(!)

I don't remember how many were opposed, but it must have been in the high 20s. At this point my heart had not stopped pounding. I was shocked, and I think I wasn't alone. This resolution will now be debated in the Hennepin county county convention next month, where I will be much better prepared to defend it. I'm still amazed and delighted. It was wonderful to have a voice in what I consider a very important debate.

Soon after, as I was walking to submit my precinct's ballots for state delegate, a middle-aged man approached me. He complemented me on my speech, and then said:

"It's the object of the state to protect human life. It's just a matter of what you regard as human life."

I didn't know how to respond to that, and maybe just nodded slightly. Then, I felt his hand on my shoulder and he disappeared. As I thought about it, he was right. It is the object of the state to protect life. A state that does not defend the right to life is not worth preserving. But, I pondered...

What do we regard as human life?

Here is one argument that could be used by an advocate of removing abortion from politics...

Imagine you are a pregnant mother in the former Soviet Union, and the state has decided to outlaw abortions because its population needs additional slave labor to maintain its command economy. In this case, what is better? Is a miserable life without any choice or human rights, entirely at the mercy of a tyrannical regime, a life at all? Many would say no, and that it is merciful for the mother to abort her unborn child.

This may seem like a sound argument to a libertarian, but even this is not persuasive enough for me. I believe that, even in this case, or one where the baby would almost certainly be subject to complete slavery, the mother has a moral duty to do what she feels is right (probably deliver the child). The point is, moral imperative does not derive from subservience to the state, but from subservience to one's own conscience and an autonomous sense of duty. It is the state's obligation to protect the conditions upon which human life, in general, can exist. Defining life, or its meaning, cannot itself originate from the state, but is rather one of those necessary conditions (beyond the sphere of this discussion, but some might appeal to some 'sacred' concepts here).

In closing, when mothers are finally compelled to be impregnated and deliver in order to meet the needs of the state, all meaningful life will cease to exist. This must not be allowed to happen, and I believe devoting a part of my life to its prevention is worthwhile. I regard life as an end in itself, and not the means anything else, but especially not means to any partisan political end.

Danny's Bridge

They say Milton was a very talented builder of bridges, especially for a young boy. People usually think building bridges is a task best suited for a team of engineers or something, but Milton could do it all by himself. He could usually be seen by the banks of some river, planning or gathering building materials.

Danny was Milton's companion. While Danny knew nothing of actually building bridges, he was known far and wide as a master bridge builder. If fact, communities would pool their money to pay Danny a handsome price for his bridge building services. After all, they were the most sturdy bridges in the land, and could be built quickly. Most people had never heard of Milton or his bridge building skills. Most certainly didn't know that Milton built Danny's bridges. They only knew that Danny was the one to consult if a bridge needed to be built.

Here was the procedure: A representative from a community would consult Danny. Danny would be paid a very large sum of money as an advance. Then, Milton would build the bridge. After the bridge had been built, Danny would stand by the bridge and collect a toll for several months from everyone who crossed. As Danny collected the toll, Milton would be working at the next project site, preparing to build the next bridge.

Milton was always very friendly and cheerful as he worked. Most of the time no one bothered him. He did not expect payment for building bridges. He had learned to catch and eat fish from the rivers. All he really cared to do was build and catch fish, and he lived a content life. When he had finished a project, he would come to Danny to know where the next bridge needed to be built.

Danny was a nice man, and of temperate character. No one knew what he did with all his money. He wore modest clothing and lived in small, temporary apartments. He ate the most simple foods and had only a few close friends.

One day, Danny rode into town on horseback to join Milton and to collect his advance. As was customary, the mayor, in this case, Mayor Tom, invited Danny to dinner to negotiate. This was something Danny had done hundreds of times. The conversation was usually very short, and would consist of the mayor offering one-half gold brick for the advance, and the other half upon completion. But, this time was different. The conversation went like this:

Mayor Tom: "I will pay you one gold piece for the entire bridge."

Danny: "I'm afraid the bridge will cost you one gold brick."

Mayor Tom: "I know that Milton works for free. He collects his building materials from the land. You have no expenses!"

Danny: "If you will not pay one gold brick, I will send Milton to Millville downstream. Mayor George has already agreed to pay us a full brick."

Mayor Tom: "Yes, but George and I, and the mayors of all the other towns along this river had a meeting last week. We agreed that a tax must be levied on all bridge construction. The people in our villages think your price is too high. The tax will be 90%. We can pay you now if like."

Danny: "Well, I guess I have no choice. I guess we have a deal."

Mayor Tom: "You do have a choice. You can tell Milton not to build the bridge, and then you will make nothing."

Danny: "No, it's alright. I'll let Milton finish the bridge and take the single gold piece."

The next day, Danny walked to see his friend, Diane. Diane was friendly lady who lived in a very large house. She cared for ten young orphans. She welcomed Danny inside:

Diane: "Danny, thank God you're here. We had almost run out of food."

Danny: "I'm afraid I only have one gold piece for you today. The Mayors have all introduced a tax."

Diane: "Well, that will feed us for a week. Thank you."

Danny: "Your welcome, but I'm afraid that is all the money I will get for the whole bridge. You will need to ask the mayor for food. I cannot help you any longer."

Diane: "I understand. I will write him a letter."

Diane proceeded to explain how the tax had affected the town. At first, the tax only applied to stores and shops. For example, Billy the barrel maker was taxed 50% for each barrel he sold. Some people thought he could spare that much, but he couldn't. He had to raise the price of each barrel 25% and dismiss one of his four employees, Jim. He had no choice. Because of this, Jim could not afford to feed his children, and him and his wife needed to abandon them for many days at a time. They would forage for food in the wilderness. And, one time, they never came back. Diane cared for their three young children, and the children of others who have suffered the same fate. This tragedy had been occurring in all towns all up and down the river.

Danny left Diane's house and walked down to see Milton, who was busy building the bridge.

Danny: "Milton, is there any way you could catch extra fish for me while you're working on the bridge?"

Milton: "It will take longer to build the bridge if I need to spend extra time catching fish."

Danny: "That's alright. It's just very important that you catch extra fish. The mayor won't even notice that the bridge will take longer to build. I will need you to start catching the fish next week."

Milton: "Very well. I will catch 10 fish a day for you. Will that be enough?"

Danny: "Yes, that will be plenty."

This arrangement worked well. Even though Danny did not acquire enough gold to help Diane care for the children for a long time, Milton's fish kept them fed.

This went on for several weeks. Danny knew that Diane's orphans would starve if Milton left town, so construction slowed to a crawl. Milton spent most of his time catching fish. Before long, Mayor Tom demanded that Danny meet him for dinner. This time, it was a new Mayor's mansion that had just been built. There were statues and pillars and chandeliers. It was a very impressive house. Danny sat down to dinner.

Mayor Tom: "I see that the bridge is taking longer than expected."

Danny: "Yes, we have run into some obstacles."

Mayor Tom: "I have noticed that Milton is spending much of his time fishing."

Danny: "Well, yes, he likes to eat fish."

Mayor Tom: "I have seen him catch far more fish than he can eat. What does he do with the extra fish?"

Danny was afraid. He didn't want to tell Mayor Tom that he was giving away the fish. After all, many people would want to take Milton's free fish. He knew some of the others wouldn't use the fish to feed orphans or even eat themselves, but to sell. No, he definitely could not admit to giving away fish for free.

Danny: "What Milton and I do with the fish caught from the river is our business."

Mayor Tom: "Well, Milton is building the bridge for our town, and, the people of this town demand a bridge. They want the bridge soon, and they didn't hire Milton to catch fish. So, you see, it is my business. You have forced my hand. I must also tax all earnings from your fish at the same 90% rate."

Danny: "Very well, you will receive 90% of the earnings from the fish."

Mayor Tom: "Thank you, and finish my bridge."

Danny told Milton the news. He explained that Mayor Tom thought they were selling the fish, and decided to tax at the 90% rate. This meant Milton would need to catch an extra 9 fish every day and sell them at the market rate in order to both pay the tax and feed the orphans.

Milton spent his evenings catching the extra fish. He also worked hard to complete the bridge. Although, Danny knew that the orphans would have no food once the bridge was complete. So, he had a meeting with Milton.

Danny: "Milton, I need to tell you something."

Milton: "Yes, Danny."

Danny: "I use all the money from your work to help children who would go hungry otherwise. I give it to Diane at the orphanage."

Milton: "I know that, silly. Why do you think I work for free?"

Danny: "Oh, I guess I should have known you had figured it out."

Milton: "That's why I build strong bridges. That's why built them so quickly. Do you really think I could be so blind?"

Danny: "And that is why you have taken an extra long time with this one?"

Milton: "Yes, that's right. I know that if we leave town, those kids will go hungry."

Danny: "What do you think we should do?"

Milton: "Just keep doing what you are doing. I'll take care of it."

Two weeks later, work was finally complete, and Mayor Tom arrived for the ribbon cutting. There was a large celebration with fireworks.

In an 'unfortunate accident,' one of Mayor Tom's explosives struck the bridge and set it on fire.

Danny was handed another gold piece the next day, and Milton's work resumed.

Service

If this blog seems wildly inconsistent and unpredictable, that's because it is.

It is my playground, and I can post song lyrics one day and diatribes the next. I can write whatever the hell I want. Some bloggers attempt to cater to large swaths of readers, which I think is perfectly acceptable. Whoring for a general audience is quite familiar to me as well. In fact, it is an activity that constitutes virtually my entire existence.

This place is the exception.

This is a place where I take a different approach with regards to my audience. Specifically, I don't want idiots reading this stuff, and nothing discourages an idiot more than superficial inconsistency. So, while consistent in principle, I resist a formula in style or syntax. This is my modus operandi. If you think the passing use of a Latin term makes me pretentious, please stop reading. You are an idiot.

Anyway, I will now share with you my continuing individual effort to destroy the Republican Party and rebuild it so that it does less damage, and perhaps even so that it does some good.

I convened our local precinct last night, which includes 20 or so square blocks around my house. We met in a schoolroom with those little high-school desks. My duties included calling our caucus to order, electing precinct officers, taking a gubernatorial straw vote, and introducing resolutions to change the party platform. There were six of us in attendance.

I'm pleased to report that I was nominated for the office of Precinct Chair, accepted the nomination, and won the election. I am also a delegate, which means I will be representing our neighborhood in the county caucus this March. I hope to gain enough support to attend the following caucus for our Congressional District, and use what political power I have acquired to dissolve the plague of stupidity and laziness that has infected almost every longstanding Republican participant. Identifying and exposing the moral and intellectual contradictions at war inside the heads of most Republicans is like shooting gerbils in a barrel, and I'm just the one to do it. Here's why:

1. I don't want a political office. I don't have any ambitions for government involvement at all, and don't fear political suicide in the slightest.
2. I don't care if I'm hated by idiots.
3. I know pretty much exactly what they are thinking. I was raised in a pseudo-Republican family.
   
4. I don't care all that much. I can do this with almost complete impartiality and disinterest, by simply organizing and stating the brutal facts they don't want to hear.
5. If I'm motivated by anything, it's a personal desire to be proven wrong.

This is how I choose to express my patriotism, and I think our founders would have approved.

We all know the phrase: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal and endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Thomas Jefferson's original draft called these rights "sacred and undeniable" (before Franklin's proposed edit). I believe Jefferson used the language "sacred and undeniable" for a reason, and here's that reason: what was self-evident to our founders was not evident to all at the time, and would certainly not be self-evident to all future Americans. Unfortunately, these truths are so far from evident in the minds of today's citizenry and governing officials, that I believe the words "sacred and undeniable" are far more appropriate for our times. I intend to make them less so, and demonstrate why they are undeniable.

Maybe I just like to be part of the narrative. Maybe I'm just a guy who saw what some historical figures were up to and wants to carry the torch for a while. The good news is, while I have their ideas, I have no reputation. It's a fun place to be, and a difficult one to depart with. (Ooh, a new computer just arrived. Back to work.)

Encouraging Irresponsibility through Children's Literature

There is something magical about authoring picture books for children.

• Your primary audience has not learned critical thinking skills.
  
• There are little or no expectations of comprehension.
  
• Illustrations easily override the text as the primary storytelling mechanism.
  
• Expectations from parents are minimal, and constitute virtually any volume capable of capturing a child's interest.
  
• Any message transmitted in the book, no matter how irresponsible, will likely be perceived to be harmless at worst, and quite possibly charming.
  

These are very good reasons for someone with limited writing skills to consider authoring a story for children. And, there are many additional incentives that can prompt an individual with absolutely no aptitude for writing to choose this genre.

• Personal experience. We have all been children at one time,
• An inner child. In-tune with childlike sensibilities including: capriciousness, entitlement, megalomania, carelessness, thoughtlessness, and irrationality.
• Distance from reality. A levity of mind that prevents any exposure to the real world offers a wealth of possibilities. While baseless and irrelevant, the sky is the limit.
  

In this environment, it is quite tempting to exploit the very large demand for meaningless entertainment, particularly if that entertainment encourages what parents and children already desire (see above for examples). Do we need to wonder why lazy authors turn to writing children's books? What other genre enthusiastically encourages the reduction of humanity into a specimen capable of defecation (see Everyone Poops). Does this fact of nature require abstraction to properly understand? Is there any possible way a child might be inspired or enlightened by being convinced that pooping is an achievement or communal animal rite rather than a mundane and necessary bodily function? Might I remind children everywhere that pedophiles, psychopaths, and puppy killers also poop regularly. That does NOT mean you are like them in any relevant sense.

For products of human metabolism, we are left with a limited number of options. The products of human intellect, on the other hand, are virtually limitless. Let us at least attempt to improve upon the former.

Without listing specifics, I will summarize by saying that my professional exploration of the children's book market has yielded unexpected and sad results. While I might rejoice upon identifying the banal and disappointing competition, I can't help but lament for the kids. For every thoughtful, well-constructed, illuminating tale there are ten stories about escaping responsibility by blaming fairies or somehow excusing self-destructive behavior. And, nothing says "indoctrination" like a heartwarming McCain or Obama biographical tale. Big money there, I'm sure.

In conclusion, books can't make a child any more stupid than they already are. But, it can explain to precocious children reasons not to accept responsibility, try their hardest, think too much, or exert effort in constructive ways. Although, I must admit, I do feel dumber after leaving the picture book section at the friendly neighborhood bookstore. Ug.