The Eleventy Billionth Blog

Well, That Totally Clears Things Up

Use Your Inside Voice

I've been watching the health care debate unfurl in its myriads of ugly ways, as we all have. People are screaming, that's clear - but do they know what they're screaming about - or if the screaming is necessary?

I understand - truly - the frustration. But I also know that far more will be accomplished with civilized debate where calm clarity rules the day. I've seen it happen - but only when both sides were respectful of the other. Really, there are a myriad of things I don't like about several of the proposals - but speaking from experience, we need some kind of resolution.

And will that ever happen until we have a conversation? Because we're not having anything of the sort now. Screaming doesn't bring consensus building - and it also drowns out any opportunity to educate yourself (and for others around you to educate themselves) about the various proposals.

Because when you parse it down to the basics - here's a guy who would like to try to figure out how to make health care accessible to more people. He says so. He has to deal with Congress, who begin picking apart the idea to benefit their lobbyists, and completely ignore his edict to reach across the aisle and work together. Senate and House chambers become two rooms full of Veruca Salts and Raymond Babbitts. There are at least five versions of this bill floating around, all varying in size and scope, and to top it off, there's a quitter in Alaska claiming he wants to kill Granny, even though the thing she objects to was something that was actually first introduced by Republicans a few years ago when they wanted to reform Medicare. I am going to wager that probably 99 percent of these screamers at the Town Hall meeting haven't read about the various versions of the bill, and they've clearly forgotten their Schoolhouse Rock, or they'd realize that until it makes it out of committee and onto the floor, it's an idea, not a bill.

And nobody's really read all of the proposed bills. Some legislators said they're never going to. But things start making their rounds on the Internet and various right wing elements, and soon all kinds of various and assorted jacked up claims are affixed to the idea.

So instead of debating the merits of health care reform in measured, moderated tones designed for progress, we have women holding up signs with little Hitler mustaches drawn on the President's face. These selfsame people, no doubt, were the same ones lecturing war protesters during George W. Bush's term that "this is America. If you don't like it, get out."

And you have certain media types that probably don't even really believe half the stuff they say on the air, stirring this fetid gumbo of racial animosity, ignorance and assorted insanity to a rapid boil. Because people have forgotten how to be provocative, and are now simply settling for being shocking. There's a difference - and one requires a lot more intelligence and elan than the other.

What I'm wholly tired of, truth be told, is the hypocritical stance many take. "Socialism!" they scream (although they don't have a clue what the word actually means), but if their purse is snatched or car broken into, they call the police. The police - who are paid for with taxes paid by the citizenry of that particular city, but who are required to render aid and protect anyone within its confines, taxpayer or not. They get their information from message boards found on the Internet on their computers powered by electricity, call their friends on telephones, and possibly even fly to remote locations to vocalize their distaste for "socialism," all without realizing that this whole time, they've been the willing beneficiaries of "socialism's" largess.

If you're going to yell fire into this crowded theater of arsonphobics, at least own it, already. Go off the grid completely. Make your own electricity, grow your own food, refuse to leave that island, don't watch TV, don't use the Internet. Because what you really mean is you don't like the government interference - which is wholly different from socialism. A country can be both socialist and democratic, because socialism is a economic system, not a political one.

So let's quit treating social discourse like center ring at the WWE. Knock off the showboating, and sit down for a productive discussion on priorities in health care.

Cowboys Live Blogging: Yay! $13 Burger Edition

So I'm waiting for the beginning of the very first Cowboys game in Jerry World. Earlier, I saw a picture of the menu board. Thirteen - $13 - dollar burgers. For that price, I expect the beef to be hand ground by leprechauns and kept cold in ice made from unicorn tears. If I ever actually go to a game in Cowboys Stadium, I'm sneaking McDonald's in my pants. FACT.

Because the beer costs $9. So I can have a burger and beer for $22. It should tongue kiss me after, that meal, and at least feel me up and give me a fake number. That. Is. Ridiculous.

There's a reason it's "The Boys of Summer."

Little-known fact: I like me some baseball. I do. I have been known to be a colossal pain in the ass to sit next to during a baseball game, because I tend to behave as if I could physically help propel a runner toward a base just by jerking my body in certain directions whilst making inarticulate noises that are probably better for guiding in dolphins.

I'm that kind of fan. I get angry. I cajole. I make inappropriate bargains with God if he'll just give the Rangers one decent hot bat. I still hold a grudge against CJ Wilson for his antics last season, and have only just started to come back around.

But I also notice the fans in the stands. There are the bandwagoners that obviously have never been to a Rangers game but typed "dinger" in their computers one day and discovered that in addition to some very odd porn, you can also get a 75% discount on Rangers tickets. There are the women trying to attract a player, the ones generally bedecked in outfits best suited for Cougartown, and not a 100 degree ballgame. There are your die-hard fans, your blow hard fans, and your weird old ladies with drums and questionable dance moves.

And then there's you. Yeah, you. This blog post is dedicated to the schmuck in the stands last night. You know who you are. The guy over near third, sitting a few rows up from the wall, right in front of the ball girl. The one who was one Princess Leia in a gold bikini away from being Jabba the Hut. You.

You are an assclown, sir.

Live Blogging the Cowboys: The Whee! Drugs! Edition

I have to warn you - I've been on chuck alert since noon. I've got some mmm... drugs in my system now, and so far I have't spewed. At any time, this live blog post could end because a) I've passed out again, b) I am puking or c) the game sucks so bad I can't keep watching.

So you're joining me later in the first quarter, because my drug-addled brain could not remember my password for the blog until now. Oakland is ahead by three, and Dallas' special teams pretty much poo'd their collective pants in the middle of the first play.

And Jerry TV has the suckiest audio in the history of moving pictures, and that includes the silent shit.

Stanback got a 27 yard return on the play, 9:59 in the first. Martellus Bennett is on the field. He's on the Twitters. Allegedly he's an alien, but I don't think he's actually from Mexico, which is where all aliens are from (hey, I listen to Rush, too, sometimes).