politics – Page 3 – The View from a Drawbridge

Pet Peeves

I’m feeling cranky today because it’s my last day of vacation. I’m in the mood to gripe about stuff, so here goes nothing.

It drives me absolutely nuts when someone who does not know me calls me honey or sweetie or darlin’. It sounds so condescending to me. It says, “I can’t be bothered to learn your name.” And as far as I’m concerned, those terms of endearment are intimate and therefore should be reserved for people whom I choose to be intimate with. I do not include the anonymous waitress or the neighborhood mechanic in that circle of intimacy, so please don’t call me baby, darlin’.

Another thing that sets my teeth on edge is when men call their cars or boats or even my drawbridge “she”. As in, “She’s a real beauty, that hotrod of yours.” Assuming that an inanimate object that is completely under your control and will always do what it is supposed to do must therefore naturally be female is an offensive concept to me.

And I hate it when a woman calls another woman “dude”. I just hate that on general principle. It doesn’t make you look cool. It makes you look stupid. I’m not a dude. I’ll never be a dude.

And by the way, not everyone enjoys the smell of cigars; no one wants to hear your music full blast as you drive down the street; science is based on proof so get over it; I don’t want to see your underwear; I’ve never bought anything from a telephone salesman, so stop calling me; my eyes are up here; yes I know I’m fat; it’s none of your business if I’ve accepted Jesus as my personal savior; if you think global climate change doesn’t exist you’re an idiot; if you ask my opinion you should be prepared to hear it; no I don’t have any spare change, so move along; choosing not to have kids doesn’t make me nearly as selfish as allowing your kid to scream in the movie theater does; a disdain for education only reveals your stupidity; perfume and cologne are supposed to be subtle, not an assault; Miley Cyrus is a disgusting girl who is out of control and should be ashamed of herself; yes I disagree with your politics but that doesn’t mean you can call me names; and I prefer my dogs over most humans based on a lifetime of experience.

So there.

Hoo. I feel cleansed.

[image credit eloquentscience.com]

My Trip in the Wayback Machine

When I was a kid I used to love a segment on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show featuring a dog named Peabody and his pet human, Sherman. They would take trips in the Wayback Machine and go to various points in history. This always intrigued me.

If I had a Wayback Machine, where and when would I go? Would I watch Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg Address? Witness the crucifixion? Walk with Gandhi to gather salt?

I’ve had many years to think about this, and have decided that being part of a large crowd is not the way to go. If I really want to learn amazing things and truly get to know an historical figure, the best way to do it would be during a long, isolated, leisurely, yet historically significant event.

So if I could only take one trip in the Wayback Machine, I would set it to March 21, 1775. Location: London, on the ship setting sail for Philadelphia. One of my fellow passengers would be Benjamin Franklin. Since he liked the ladies, I’d like to flatter myself that I could draw his attention away from his grandson Temple long enough to have some really interesting conversations during the journey. The trip would take 46 days, so there’d be plenty of time.

Mr. Franklin could often be found up on deck despite the chill in the air. During this trip, his 6^th across the Atlantic, he decided to occupy his time by measuring the temperature of the Gulf Stream, so he would have been quite easy to approach.

I’d break the ice by asking him what he was doing. He could tell me about his fascination with the Gulf Stream ever since he’d noticed that westbound mail packets that fought their way across it took two weeks longer to arrive in America than those that skirted its edges. With the help of his cousin Timothy Folger, the captain of a Nantucket merchant vessel, he produced the first chart of the Gulf Stream, which was then promptly ignored by the general populous, and that’s ironic because this chart is still extremely accurate to this day, and can and does save vessels millions of dollars in their travels.

From there we could chat about some of the things he had invented to date that had changed people’s lives, such as the Franklin stove, the lightning rod, the flexible urinary catheter, the odometer, and swim fins.

And since I’d be coming from the future, I might give him some suggestions regarding his future inventions, such as the bifocal and the pole and claw for reaching things on high shelves.

We could also discuss his many services to humanity, such as the volunteer fire department, the public library, and his refusal to patent his inventions so that everyone could benefit from them.

And as a fellow writer, I’d love to learn about his many inspirations for Poor Richard’s Almanac.

Naturally we’d discuss politics, because on the eve of the American Revolution in which he would play a very decisive role, I’m quite sure he would have a great deal to say.

Upon taking my leave of this amazing man, I’d ask him if he might play me a tune on the Glass Armonica someday, and since we’d have become fast friends at that point and could therefore say anything to each other, I might suggest to him that he consider being a little kinder and more considerate of his wife and family, as that would be the only flaw in him that I would be able to detect.

Now that would be one heck of a way to take advantage of that Wayback Machine!

Andy Johnson is Back on the Radio. Heaven Help Us.

Yes, it’s that time again. My quarterly rant about Andy Johnson, the man who stole thousands of dollars from me and refuses to pay it back, despite my winning court judgment and my lien on his house.

If you want to get the full, ugly story of what this man did to me, check out my blog entry, Andy Johnson, SHAME on you!!! Or you can get the abbreviated version of the whole sordid mess here. But if you don’t care about this man enough to be bothered, and on most days I’m right there with you, suffice it to say that this guy, who tries to style himself as a pillar of the Jacksonville community, is in actuality a thief. As a matter of fact, I’ve recently caught him in some more lies. You can read about that here.

And now he is back on the local airwaves, attempting to perpetuate his own myth. I couldn’t be more disgusted. Here’s the irony. The reason he took my money in the first place was in a desperate attempt to remain on the air a little while longer, and in that he failed. Our airwaves have been blessedly devoid of his blathering for quite some time. But now he’s baaaaaack!

Another irony: in theory his politics and mine are quite similar. I’d love to be his cheerleader. I’d love to support him. But unfortunately I know the content of his moral fiber, and it’s flimsy at best.

What Andy doesn’t seem to realize is that he’s somewhat of a Jacksonville joke. A political has-been who sometimes manages to pay for a few hours on an obscure am radio station to blather on, no one really takes him particularly seriously.

The five views a day I get on my Andy Johnson rants are probably a larger, more loyal group than his listeners. If you listen to his show for any length of time you’ll realize that he spends the bulk of his time begging for callers.

Here’s a cool idea. On weekdays, from 2-6 pm eastern standard time here in the US, listen to his inane show at http://1600thebeach.com, then call 904-861-1026, get past his screener by saying you want to ask about some political foolishness or other, and when you talk to the man himself, ask him if he respects the courts and feels he’s a law abiding citizen. When he says yes, ask him why, when it’s a matter of public record that he has to pay Barbara the thousands of dollars he took from her, he hasn’t bothered to do so.

It would be so much easier and less embarrassing for him if he would just do the right thing and pay me, but yeah, eventually I’ll sell my judgment to a professional who will get the money from him and pay me 50 cents on the dollar if I’m lucky. Either way he will pay on that judgment eventually. But in the meantime, I’m rather enjoying spreading the truth about this man and hearing from others whom he’s bilked. And if it prevents even one more person from being taken in, it’s worth it. Let’s keep those lines of communications open!

(This is Andy Johnson. Ironically, we’ve never met face to face. But knowing what I know about the man, even his photo makes me shudder.)

Leeching the Consumer

Today I was told that some of my computer hardware was no longer supported by the manufacturer. No big surprise, right? Planned obsolescence has become such a normal part of our consumer culture that we don’t even bother to be outraged. My question is, what would happen if the vendors had to be honest? What if they had to put a warning label on their packaging that said, “You only think that you’re buying this product. Really, you’re basically renting it, because technically in three or four years, tops, it’s going to become nothing but an expensive door stop and will need to be replaced. Just so you know.”

When you think about it, producers of products need us in order to survive, and therefore have to find new and creative ways each year to figuratively suck our blood like the leeches that they are. Planned obsolescence is just one insidious method.

A very popular approach is to form corporate attachments to you. Companies just love to make you feel like they care. “Sure, we pumped 210 million gallons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, but we are part of this community! We want to see it prosper! We’re doing everything we can to make your life better!” “Yes, we’re clear cutting all the forests in your state, but we’re doing it in an environmentally responsible manner!” Here’s a news flash, people. Corporations do not care about you. You want proof? Stop consuming their product and see how long they stick around, trying to make your life better.

They also love to tickle your political funny bone. Gun manufacturers fight for your right to bear arms. They run the political gauntlet every single day to uphold your freedom. God Bless America!

Come on, people, they’re not doing that for you. The fact is, gun ownership in this country is on the decline. Kids don’t go hunting anymore. They’re too busy being glued to their computer screens. And this sales decline is the corporate equivalent of starvation. They fight for your right to have assault rifles because you’ll have to BUY them! They fight for your right to purchase a gun without a background check so that more people will be able to buy them. They don’t care about your rights. This is corporate greed wrapped in the American flag, pure and simple.

And why are sexy models used in advertisements? So that you’ll pale by comparison. With any luck, this will create a desire in you to want to be just like these models. And the only way to be that sexy or popular or cool or trendy or successful (unless you are good with Photoshop), is to buy their product. Buy this cream and all your problems will melt away! Are we really this stupid?

Maybe we are, because another trick is convincing us that their product is necessary. We absolutely, positively, have to, have to, HAVE TO own the latest I-Phone in order to survive in this world. That’s funny. People have managed to make do without it for thousands and thousands of years.

Or how about this? If my drug doesn’t solve your problem, let’s create a problem for you that it WILL solve. Who ever heard of “restless leg syndrome” prior to 1995? Yes, I know it is a legitimate diagnosis, but if we didn’t know about it, we wouldn’t be demanding the medication for it.

Look down at your body. Check every crack and crevice, people, because there are leeches attached to you. And when you drop dead from the anemia, they are counting on the fact that there will be someone else to take your place. Perhaps that’s the ultimate form of planned obsolescence.

Weather, ’tis Nobler

Whenever we are at a loss for something to say or things are on the verge of getting awkward, we talk about the weather. That’s because it’s the one thing that we all have in common. All of us have experienced some form of extreme weather, whether it be storms or extreme heat or extreme cold. We all have our stories.

If you think about it, the weather is the Switzerland of all conversation topics. On this one subject, we can remain neutral. We can discuss it without regard to race, creed, or culture. The weather cares not one whit about our politics, our bank accounts or our sexual orientation. The rain falls on us all.

The weather is also our constant companion. We can try to avoid it by staying indoors, basking in front of a roaring fire, cooling off in the air conditioning, or vacationing in a nicer climate, but it’s still there, surrounding us, taking us into its sunny or snowy or windy or wet embrace whether we like it or not. And as much effort as we put into trying to predict it, the weather still tends to surprise us on a fairly regular basis.

Many of us change our lives for the weather. People retire to Florida or the mountains for a reason. Death Valley and Antarctica are generally deserted for a reason.

I guess the whole point of this ramble, other than the fact that I couldn’t think of anything else to write about, is that we manage to live peaceably with the weather, despite the fact that we have a love/hate relationship with it, and it looms larger than anything else in our lives. There may be a lesson in there somewhere.

My Crunchy Granola Epiphany

Last night at about 4 a.m., alone at work and struggling to stay awake, I had an epiphany, and now I’m looking at the world in an entirely different way. Before I present you with my concept, let me say that I’m quite sure this theory didn’t originate with me. There are plenty of crunchy granola new-agey types out there who no doubt have come to the same or similar conclusions. And how’s this for a revelation: my philosophy doesn’t even have to be true for it to have a positive impact on me. Awesome.

I’m calling it Net Theory, and it’s deceptively simple: Everything is connected. All of us are one. From what little I understand about Quantum Theory, I’m fairly certain that it supports this notion. On a sub-atomic level, we’re all a part of one big, uh….thing. We’re bathing in a sea of light waves. There is really no place where I end and you begin.

And once you accept this idea, the way you perceive the universe changes. For example, I’m not as irritated by obnoxious people. I’m just grateful that they are performing this role instead of me. I’m not jealous of people who are more successful than I am, because their success is a reflection of the healthy part of this great net. Politics seem even sillier if that’s possible. It’s just one side of us disagreeing with the other side of us, and whoever comes out on top, well, it’s still us. Prejudice seems absurd, as does war, violence, cruelty, selfishness, pollution, road rage, even petty grudges, because it’s all negative energy directed at the great net of which we are all a part. In other words, it’s self-destructive. I suspect that moving forward, I won’t be as bothered by boredom, because I’ll know that somewhere something interesting is happening. I won’t resent work, because it’s part of what needs to be done.

Charity will seem like a way to be good to myself, as will sex and learning. Religion makes much more sense, because it seems like someone must be keeping this massive organism, for lack of a better word, on track.

Eating, I was musing on the way in to work tonight, is kind of problematic. Am I eating myself? Yuck! But then, why not? It is the gift I give to myself to maintain life. That’s actually beautiful, if you ask me. It’s kind of like the last supper writ large. It sure makes me want to avoid junk food, though.

And the more I get into this concept, the less I am afraid of dying, because now more than ever I can believe that I’ll still be a part of this great interconnectedness that is all of us and everything. I can’t imagine anything more comforting than that.

Don’t Get Your Knickers in a Twist

Is it just me, or is everyone experiencing a spate of mounting hysteria? I know the economy is bad, and there are wars and abuses and crime and tragedy. I know that there are plenty of causes and issues that need to be addressed. The four horses of the apocalypse are being kept quite busy, indeed. But something is different.

For example, here in America you’ll always get your fair share of people complaining about the president if he wasn’t the guy they voted for. That’s the beauty of democracy, in my opinion. But suddenly it’s not just the usual griping, it’s extreme panic. To hear them tell it, all guns will be confiscated so that we can all be trundled into concentration camps by the illegal immigrants, our senior citizens will be killed off, the rest of us are going to be sprayed in the face with some new government created virus, and while we experience a slow and agonizing death from that, we’ll all be forced into a gay marriage. But hey, at least the weather will be nice, because global warming is apparently some huge hoax that was devised in a worldwide conspiracy by 98 percent of all scientists to benefit…whom exactly? Beats me.

It’s even getting to the point where Facebook isn’t fun to visit anymore. Not only does it seem like the latest global outrage is the order of the day, but three times in the past two weeks I’ve watched debates turn into fights in which people who are supposed to be friends engage in hostile name calling.

What has happened to reasoned discourse? Where have courtesy and respect gone? What has happened to checking facts instead of spreading ridiculous rumors? When did we become so gullible? At the rate we’re going, this time next week people will actually believe that Godzilla is rampaging through the streets of New York City.

I long to sit down in a restaurant and hear everyone around me discussing sports, the weather, books they’ve read, their kid’s t-ball game, movies, music, art, dating, travel…anything, ANYTHING but fear, prejudice, hatred, disaster and death. Please. I’m begging you.

If I were queen of the world, the first thing I would do is issue a brown paper bag to all my subjects so that we could all breathe into them and stop this global hyperventilation.

Everything is going to be okay. Really.

Andy Johnson, SHAME on you!!!

(Note: Welcome to the most viewed post on my blog! For a shorter version of this blog entry, see “Andy Johnson is a Swindler“, or simply scroll down and read the highlighted sentences here. Also, to see what this shyster is currently up to, check out another post I’ve written here, and to see some very amusing lies I’ve caught him in recently, go here.)

There’s no tactful way to say this. Andrew Johnson, Sr., former member of the Florida House of Representatives, long time progressive radio talk show host in Jacksonville, Florida took $3,500.00 from me under false pretenses and refuses to pay it back. This man, whose slogan is “Down to Business Andy Johnson! Never neutral. But always fair” has ripped me off. If you care at all about justice, please spread the word in any way you can. Share this blog on your Facebook page. Copy it to your own blog. Do whatever you can do, because while I have a lien on his 2,100 square foot house, Florida law says that as long as he lives in it, I cannot collect, and meanwhile, I’m about 3 months away from being homeless. Is that fair?

This is Andy Johnson.

All of this is a matter of public record, and I’ll be happy to provide anyone with the case number if they ask, and I’ve also got a stack of evidence about an inch thick that I’d share with anyone who can help me, but here’s what happened: In June, 2009 I owned a house. The roof developed a leak and I was in a panic. I was barely making the mortgage, let alone any major added expense, and I’d put enough patches on that old house to know this was going to be major. That roof was rotting away. My boyfriend at the time, John, worked at a local radio station, WJSJ. He contacted his boss, Andy Johnson, in hopes that a “trade out” could be done. This means that a company gives you a substantial discount for their services in exchange for free radio advertising. As Mr. Johnson has a rather high profile in the community, and at the time I was told he was still a lawyer, and John trusted him and liked working for him, I thought there might be a chance that Mr. Johnson would do this kind thing for a long time loyal employee. And in fact, Mr. Johnson told John to contact Riggins Roofing. He believed a trade out could be done with them.

A few weeks later, an employee from Riggins Roofing came to the house to give us a quote so we could determine the extent of the subsequent discount. The quote came in at $5,900.00. Now it was up to Andy Johnson to enter into negotiations with them. In the meantime, Riggins Roofing had someone come over to put a temporary patch to stop the leak, which led me to believe that a deal was in progress.

After almost two months of Mr. Johnson’s procrastination, on August 21^st he finally told John that he had arrived at a deal. They would do our roof for $3,500.00 plus radio advertising. Even that was more money than I had, but it needed to be done. Looking at the ever-expanding water stain on my bedroom ceiling, I had no choice. On August 23^rd, John met with Andy Johnson and gave him a check that I wrote from my home equity loan, and he gave us something in writing outlining the deal.

And then nothing happened. Johnson came up with a million excuses, including but not limited to “Riggins is really busy at the moment. They’ll get to it, though.” “They haven’t returned my calls,” and “I have been really busy, John. I haven’t had a chance to talk to them. I’ll have something for you tomorrow.” Many, many tomorrows went by. I got increasingly nervous. By September, I started to suspect I’d never see my money again. But John loved working with this man, so I kept giving him one more chance.

It started to have a negative impact on our relationship and our life. Now I was facing the loss of $3,500.00, plus the prospect of paying someone $5,900.00 to repair the roof. I started losing sleep and having nightmares. Then I broke my foot and never got it treated because I knew the cost would be astronomical. Our overseas vacation got cancelled, and Christmas was downgraded to no tree and two lottery tickets as gifts.

In November, 2009, John found out that Andy Johnson was on the verge of losing the radio station. That’s when I really started to panic. On November 16^th, I wrote a letter to Johnson as a good faith effort to try to resolve this issue. John gave it to him, but he refused to sign it. He said he was too busy at the moment, but that John could come get it the next day. The next day, of course, Andy Johnson wasn’t there.

On December 3^rd I spoke to Dan Underhill of Riggins Roofing. He expressed shock and dismay that his company was drawn into this, and stated he never agreed to the deal, and in fact, when he sent someone to put a temporary patch on the roof, he did it as a favor to Andy Johnson, and as far as he was concerned, this was the last of his involvement in the matter. He kindly provided me with an affidavit.

This meant that when Mr. Johnson took my money in August he knew full well that he had no roof deal. (Frankly I think this constitutes fraud, but when I spoke with someone at the State Attorney’s office, they said they had much bigger fish to fry, unfortunately. And when I spoke to the Florida Bar, they said that no one by that name was an attorney at the present time.) At this point Andy Johnson stopped returning our calls. I tried calling him at home and spoke to his wife, Mary Johnson, who was totally unaware of this situation. When I told her about it, much to my chagrin I burst into tears. She said, “I’m not impressed with your tears, little girl. You need to be more professional.” I need to be more professional? Me? What about your husband who took my money, lady?

Andy immediately called for a meeting with John, and we got yet another deal with him, which I dictated over the phone and he signed. I’m embarrassed to say I was pretty hysterical at this point. I found out something very interesting during that conversation. Mr. Johnson seemed to be operating under the impression that he’d “have use of” my money for “a time” before the roof was done. This was news to me, and I would have never entered into the deal if I had known that. I also wouldn’t have entered into the deal if I had known that Andy Johnson had not been paying John since March, 2009, something John had neglected to tell me until I filed the lawsuit.

Mr. Johnson’s final deadline to resolve things with me was January 23^rd, 2010, and as predicted, nothing happened. He continued to beg for extensions. I finally took him to court, and won the judgment. Andy Johnson, thinking mistakenly that people still cared about him or his reputation, failed to show up as he thought reporters would be waiting at the courthouse, according to John. I’ve had a lien on his house since April, 2010.

Through all of this, John continued to “work” for him, and did so for years afterward. Needless to say, our 16 year relationship ended in June, 2010. He still occasionally makes snide comments on his Facebook page that gives the impression that he was the martyr in the relationship. But how could I live with a man who was too spineless to stand up to his boss, who had done so much damage to me? If my boss had done that to someone I claimed to love, I’d have dragged him around the office by his, well, you know, until he coughed up the money, and then I would have quit. But hey, that’s how I roll. With integrity.

I’ve since sold the house and tried to move on with my life, and I’m in a much better relationship now, with someone who has my back, but I’m even worse off now financially than ever before, and am on the verge of sleeping in my car while Andy Johnson has a decent roof over his head.

I know. I was a fool. And the more research I do on Andy Johnson, the more I realize it. From an Article written by Rich Tucker, staff writer of the Florida Times-Union on July 30, 2000 comes the following quotes about Andy:

“Johnson succeeded in winning a state House seat on schedule and was even re-elected in 1980. But his political career was to end far before he imagined. Johnson would lose four more elections before accepting that reality.

Today, many of the city’s most influential people view Johnson as a rather insignificant, albeit noisy, source of aggravation — a political has-been who had much potential but who no longer is capable of being anything for the city except a disruption.”

“He’s Rush Limbaugh for the Democrats. He is a nut, as far as I’m concerned,” said former state Sen. Arnett Girardeau, who ran against Johnson in 1976, 1982 and 1992. “In his own mind, he thinks he’s a liberal. In my own mind, he’s a liberal with a misguided cause.”

“Johnson’s in-your-face style annoyed some of his colleagues. By his second term, even Johnson admits he was out of favor with many of the senior legislators.

Don Davis, who defeated Johnson in a run for City Council in 1986, said he counts himself lucky that Johnson does not hold an elected office for the city or state.”

“I can tell you one thing,” Davis said. “Had he been successful in getting elected to the Jacksonville City Council, I feel like he would have been the most disruptive factor to hit local government in the history of the state of Florida.”

“Johnson said he sponsored more legislation than nearly any other representative during his time in office, but those who served with Johnson described his behavior as hyperactive and largely unproductive.”

“It seemed like he was always running for something rather than trying to find some issues,” said Tommy Hazouri, a former state representative and Jacksonville mayor. “He was a great debater. The problem is no one ever listened to him.”

“Each of the last three times I was in a campaign it became so stressful that my wife seriously brought up the idea, ‘You know, I don’t think I want to be married to you anymore,’ ” Johnson said. (This coming from the woman who was unimpressed by my tears.)

“And while Johnson remembers each of his defeats with regret, his wife said she often just felt relieved.

Without much remorse, Mary Johnson concedes her husband’s chances of being elected again to any civic office are slim. “He’s so outspoken, and he’s made so many people mad. I think he’s realistic in the respect that he’s got a lot of enemies now.”

“For a political animal like Johnson, that reality is painful.”

“I wish I could have been more effective on all public issues that have concerned me, and I wish I could have done that in such a way that I didn’t make a bunch of people angry,” he said. “People think I enjoy making them angry. That’s just not true. I’m not like that.”

Oh, you aren’t, Andy? Are you a good guy? THEN GIVE ME MY FREAKIN’ MONEY!!!!!

The irony is that I’m probably as progressive as Andy Johnson ever was. I would LOVE to sing his praises. I really would. I’d love to be able to say nice things about him. But his actions prevent me from doing so. In my opinion, he’s an embarrassment to liberal politics, and a moral blight to humanity. His progressive talk show, which always struggled for advertising dollars, was taken off the air in January, 2011. He seems to have fallen off the public radar since then. I’m sure that devastates him, but not nearly as much as he has devastated me.

With court costs, attorney’s fees and interests on the lein, Andrew Johnson, Sr., former member of the Florida House of Representatives, now owes me approximately $4,600.00.

Please spread the word. I’ll keep reposting this blog entry every few months until I have my money.

“He’s Not MY President!”

It’s Inauguration Day here in the United States, and even though I worked graveyard shift last night, which means the ceremonies felt like they were being held at the equivalent of my three o’clock in the morning, I watched them. And I got an amazing thrill from the event. Not just because my guy won. (Yay!)

I can say with all sincerity that I’ve gotten goose bumps from every single inauguration I’ve witnessed, regardless of whether the man who was being sworn in as president was the person I voted for. As I looked out at the hundreds of thousands of people who were willing to attend this event (despite the fact that it’s always held in an often brutally cold Washington DC January), I realized that they are bearing witness to history, and one in which we can all, on this day if not on any other, take pride.

During every inauguration, I’m reminded of the words of George Washington during the First Inaugural Address in 1789: “The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the republican model of government, are justly considered deeply, perhaps as finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.”

And it’s true. This nation, this political process of ours, is an experiment. My saying that once got me blasted by one of my relatives. He thought what I was saying was unpatriotic. How dare I say this is an experiment? Well, I say it easily and with pride, thank you very much, because anyone with even the slightest knowledge of world history knows that governments rise and fall and political philosophies come and go. Just ask the people of ancient Rome. The fact that we are lucky enough to be at a point in time when our particular experiment seems to be working quite well is a reason for celebration. And saying it’s an experiment is the most patriotic thing in the world because it reminds us that this stability is fragile, and it needs to be monitored and cared for and debated about with the free speech afforded us by our constitution. What could possibly be more patriotic than that?

Indeed, my love of free speech was sorely tested a few days ago. A very heated political debate broke out on a friend’s Facebook page. I sat back and watched it with interest and enjoyment, at first. Then, as often happens when people don’t have a strong dog in a fight, it deteriorated into name calling and personal attacks. That made me sad, because rather than strengthening their views in my eyes, it simply made me think much less of both parties. So I was thrilled today when President Obama said, “We cannot mistake absolutism for principle, or substitute spectacle for politics, or treat name-calling as reasoned debate.” You tell ‘em, Barack. We don’t have to agree. But if you let it deteriorate into insults, you’re only revealing your ignorance, because, you see, this is not about him. It’s about us.

That Facebook brawl ended abruptly when one person said, “He’s not my president!” Poor deluded woman. If you’re an American, yes he is. Even if you didn’t vote for him, even if you didn’t bother to vote at all, yes he is. And you should thank your lucky stars that he is. We have held a stable government without a violent overthrow since George Washington made that first inaugural address in 1789. Yes, we’ve had a civil war. Yes, there have been assassinations and assassination attempts and threats from other nations, but through it all, we have remained solid. Millions of people on this planet have not experienced that stability, and can’t even imagine what it must be like. So, yes, he’s your president, love him or hate him, and that fact was celebrated today on a cold, windy patch of ground in our nation’s capital. How cool is that?

Fred Rogers Was My Father

On the last day of 2012, I have a confession to make. I watched Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to an embarrassingly old age. It was my dirty little secret. I told no one. It was something for just the two of us. Every day I’d tune in to the only father figure I had. He would speak calmly to me when others would shout. He would encourage me when others were too tired to try. He would make me feel like I was okay when others made me feel like an outcast. Most importantly, he would make me feel secure at a time when my life was not the least bit safe. When he said that everyone had something different about them, something you could learn from, or that you could grow ideas in the garden of your mind, I believed him. To this day, I can say without reservation that Fred Rogers always had my best interests at heart. There are not too many people in this world who you can say that about.

If the man had run for president, he would have won. It says a lot about his wisdom that he never did so. But if he had held the highest office in the land, things would have been quite different. He’d have strode calmly and politely into congress and shamed them into stepping away from that fiscal cliff. He’d have given Washington a moral compass that is sorely lacking in this day and age. Maybe he would not have gotten the right and left to agree, but he certainly would have had them communicating respectfully and acting like the adults that they are supposed to be. He would have put a stop to the politics by fear that seems to be the rule of the day. And when tragedy strikes, as it sometimes will, he would be able to comfort the entire nation with his sincerity. One thing is for certain: If Fred Rogers were president, sweaters would come back in style.

Rest in peace, Mr. Rogers. When you passed away, millions of us lost the only father we ever knew.