Whiskey, Cheese, Fine Wine, Kris Kristofferson, and Muhammad Ali

Some things keep getting better with age.

I’ve lost count of the times I have seen Kris Kristofferson perform. I wasn’t a groupie but I never missed an opportunity when he came to town. The first time I had the pleasure, forty-something years ago, there were about ten of us present, sitting around a campfire with a couple of guitars for an unplanned evening of stories and music. Through the years, I saw him in large venues and small, stadiums and intimate club settings, indoors and out, with a band and alone. Last night, it was in an outdoor amphitheater, just Kris with his guitar, harmonica, love, and wisdom - and it was a huge slice of perfection.

I remarked the day before how odd it was to think a cold front had set in when the temperature dropped to the high eighties, and that I hoped the cool weather would stick around for the concert. The friend I was to go with informed me that this might not be such a good thing since the weatherman predicted severe thunderstorms with hail would accompany the cooler temperatures and hit about when the show started. That wasn’t going to stop us, though. We packed rain ponchos, towels, and changes of clothes, put our cameras in plastic bags, and headed out. Turned out the temperature was perfect and not a drop of rain fell.

• 

Every time I see Kris Kristofferson, I say the same things - I think he sounds better than before, I can’t believe he can sing for hours and still not have time to sing all of the songs he has written, he is brilliant, no one can reach inside my body and squeeze my heart the way he does, and he has to be the most loveable, honest person alive. I said all of those things again this time, and more.

There was an extra special bonus this time. Kris was choked up and teary through the first couple of songs. Finally, he apologized and explained that it might take him a little while to overcome the excitement of just meeting one of his heroes. Muhammad Ali had come backstage to meet him before he came out, and he was overwhelmed with emotion. He choked up again explaining this.

At the time, I was excited for Kris and hoped Ali might peek out and wave. That hope didn’t last long because when I remembered what I know about The Champ, I knew seeking attention wasn’t his style. The years of boasting was part of the boxing show. The real man and hero is humble and gentle, with some wisdom of his own. “The man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.” -Muhammad Ali

Later, the impact of sharing this little sliver of their lives hit me and melted my heart. It was such a thrill to know that these two men-- both of whom have enjoyed international fame and long lines of people waiting for an opportunity to meet, touch, and photograph them--still, in the later stages of their lives, have heroes who excite them. I feel totally honored to have witnessed anything so strikingly touching.

• 

Kris is wearing his hair shorter and his face shows lines of wisdom, smiles, and some of the stories he sings but he is still gorgeous and his voice as strong and sexy as ever. He reined in his emotions after a few songs and delivered – as always – straight from his heart to ours. I was happy to see that that most of the people jumping out of their seats with uncontrollable adoration this time were young men. It was an enjoyable, emotional evening for everyone.

(I’ll forgive him for not singing my favorite of his songs (imbedded below) since it’s over eight minutes long, and this audience seemed too commercial to have anticipated it.)

 

Everyone Has a Twin

We pulled the pop-out camper across the state line, past the hog farms, around the country church, through the crumbling cemetery, and down the winding road to arrive at Starve Hollow Lake, as we had done many times before. This campground attracted each of us for a different reason: Daddy liked the solitude, Mom appreciated the trees and paved path to the showers, my brother enjoyed the fishing, and I looked forward to the jukebox and beach. We had been there in good weather and storms, on holiday weekends as well as off-season, on every day of the week, but had never seen a crowd anything like this one.

Tanning bodies covered the beach on a crazy quilt of multi-colored towels and blankets, their Coppertone adding a twist to the lake and concession stand aromas. While the friends who had come with me fished with my brother, I watched the new crowd from my standing-to-tan-both-sides position near the jukebox, wishing more of the new people were closer to my age. It looked like the hippies who lived in a converted school bus at the far end of the campground might be the only people around who shared my interests, and none of them were out.

He came along and shattered the monotony. I noticed the reactions of the crowd before I spotted him. Divers stood still on the wooden island located outside the safety markers. Castle building and body-burying ceased. Frisbees and beach balls came to abrupt halts, and burning bodies popped into sitting positions on the quilt pieces. Every head turned to follow as he strutted from one end of the beach to the other, confident but seemingly indifferent to the attention.

When we gathered back at the camper for our Coleman-stove dinner, he monopolized the conversation. Mom said she had never seen anything like it off screen. Daddy teased about her drooling. The fishing crew reported they had noticed from the middle of the lake, and stopped to see what had brought beach activity to a stand still. I was glad to know I hadn't imagined him.

Loathing the open-air shower room as much as the enclosed sink area where strangers spat in sinks and crowded around a single mirror, I rushed through my shower that evening and told my friends I would wait for them outside. While they did hair and make-up, I sat on a picnic table near the now deserted beach and watched the sun set. He returned for an encore, and I was the only one left to see.

I pinched myself when he broke stride and walked toward me. My heart stopped again when he asked if I was going to be there a few minutes and I discovered his voice was even more attractive than his appearance. I managed a nod. He gifted me with an explanation about how he had decided not to swim earlier because of the crowd, and now that he had the lake to himself, he was afraid to leave his watch and wallet unattended and go in.

Lulled by the music in his voice, I held out my hand to collect his valuables. He promised he wouldn't be long and followed his words with a grin that could have melted Antarctica.

My friends joined me in time to watch the last rays of sun highlight his body as he bobbed in and out of the water. Despite their urging, I refused to peek inside the wallet and put a name to this perfect specimen of masculinity. Later, when my friends had wandered off and he introduced himself, I wished I had. The name he had given sounded as fake as John Doe, undeserving of its holder.

Envious of each drop that trickled into tanned, muscular dreamland, I returned his personal items and made room for him to sit at the table while he air-dried. His name remained the only thing ordinary about him. On a short break from years of seeing the world which he described mostly in people he had met, he had stopped to visit an aunt who owned a nearby farm. A friend awaited him there. He would love to join the campfire and music my family had planned, if we (my friends had joined us by then) would ride back with him to pick up the friend and his guitar.

The four of us crowded into his aunt's truck and rode to the farm. A small plane parked beside a dinner bell in the side lawn seemed out of place with the wrap-around porch on the house and the barn in the background. My curiosity about it kept me from reacting to the smell of hogs in the distance.

While he changed into dry clothes, the aunt served cookies and lemonade and explained that the plane belonged to him. After refreshments and pleasant conversation with the family, we headed back to camp. The aunt walked us out, hugged each of us as though we were family, and handed me a folded copy of the local paper. A souvenir, she called it, and I was happy to have something to remember her with.

His friend and one of mine rode in the back of the truck with the guitar. I kept the souvenir with me until we were back and I tossed it in the camper.

The music and stories outlasted me that night. Neighboring campers had brought lawn chairs and blankets to our site. Many of them were still present, as was my mother's smile, when the fire died, the sun came up, and I dozed off in my chaise lounge.

I didn't think of the newspaper again until we were packing to leave two days later and my dad asked if I wanted to keep it. For the first time, I opened the paper and saw his picture on the front page, with a different, more deserving name attached. He had been in town to headline the concert line-up at the Jackson County fair, billed as one of the largest fairs in the world, and held the day before.

I'll never know for sure that he is the same man I've seen in concerts and movies since, or if he just looked exactly like that man and the aunt found that amusing. When I've had the opportunity to ask, several times through the years, he just flashed that same melting grin in response.

Mark O’Mara: Face of All That Is Wrong With Our Legal System

My father said if I looked carefully at every person who came into my life, I would discover something good about each of them and I would uncover the reason they had come into my life. Sometimes, he warned, the only reason they would be there would be to show me what I didn’t want to be. I took his words to heart and made a game of it.

A month into the active part of the game with Mark O’Mara, I’ve identified his purpose in my life but am not finding a single moral fiber, example, action, or even physical characteristic that warrants the label good. I believe his purpose is to be the face of all that is wrong with our legal system.

Mr. O’Mara volunteered to take this case, knowing that his client murdered an innocent child and blamed his victim, and that the client’s first attorneys quit because he was uncooperative. This was not a case of O’Mara being a public defender and it was his turn, or even of being called to take the case. He volunteered, which makes me believe he enjoys helping murderers get away with their crimes or he wanted publicity. Neither makes him a good guy in my eyes. In the end, it’s also easy for me to believe he knew it would be a profitable endeavor, also. Add disgusting to the not good things I already think of him. There is nothing more disgusting than wanting to profit from the murder of an innocent child.

Mr. O’Mara made it perfectly clear that he prides himself on being devious, dishonest, and disgustingly cruel as he badgered witnesses. Public conversation indicates there are many in our society who believe murderers are entitled to have devious liars as defense attorneys. I’m not one of them. Why are witnesses required to swear to tell the truth while defense attorneys badger them with lies and attempt to deceptively coerce them into accidentally using a word that can be twisted and used against them later? The defense in the Zimmerman case did this repeatedly and shamefully with Rachel Jeantel. I hope this is another conversation we will take up as a result of this trial since it makes people not want to come forward and serve as witnesses.

Now, there is evidence of jury tampering. Only the murderer can appeal? Double jeopardy laws protect them from society appealing on behalf of the victim? Another conversation I’d like to have.

Mr. O’Mara claims his client will never be safe because there are a percentage of the population who are angry and may take their anger out on him. The truth is, Mr. O’Mara’s client will never be safe because of choices that he and his client made. The client chose to stalk and murder an innocent child based on prejudice and Mr. O’Mara chose to make a mockery of our system so he could walk free.

Mr. O’Mara compounds the ugliness and inflames the anger many of us feel by asking us to sympathize with his client, who did plenty wrong and showed no remorse for any of it, while ignoring the fact that his victim, Trayvon Martin, was not safe simply because O’Mara’s client acted on flawed prejudgment of the victim. By ignoring the reality of the millions of others who are more unsafe because he helped a prejudiced killer get away with murder, Mr. O’Mara becomes the fool he obviously hopes we are when he whines about his client feeling unsafe now. (I say the self-defense classes and paranoid belief that he needed to carry a gun to Target shows his client felt unsafe before any of this happened. We should wonder what this man has done to make so many enemies.)

If Mr. O’Mara’s client had taken the stand in his own defense, told his story, and begged for mercy and forgiveness, I might have been able to find one good thing to say about both of them. But that didn’t happen.

Turns out Mr. O’Mara came into my life for two reasons: he will remain the face of everything wrong with our legal system in my mind, as well as a reminder of what I don’t want to be. 

Get Involved:

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Justice for Trayvon Actions

Open Letter to Senator Rand Paul Regarding "Road to Majority" speech

Senator Rand Paul:

Regarding: Your words at the “Road to Majority” conferencein Washingtonon June 13, 2013  

I strongly object to your decision to use war language (ala Good News Club) when speaking to Republican Christians about “liberal elites” who don’t share your/their religious beliefs. Your slick lumping of “liberal elites” in with scary foreigners your fans love to hate so much wasn’t missed. You may think the Rove practice of blaming your perceived enemies for doing exactly what you are doing—waging war-- is clever but I disagree.

Not only do I disagree, I put you on notice now. I believe you are preying on people who are often incapable of thinking for themselves, expecting them to act on your violent rhetoric. Regardless of who was present to hear the speech, I believe your words were carefully chosen to incite your base and I consider that a direct threat to my safety.

You see, Senator Paul, you have a history that sticks with you no matter how you might want to pretend otherwise. We know of at least two women from your past who live in fear of your violent tendencies – your Aqua Buddha kidnapping victim and your curb stomped victim. I know that most abusers get away with the first few, and that the violence escalates as they get away with abuse. That means your next victim(s) should suffer worse than Lauren Valle and I will not remain silent while waiting for that to happen.

There is no room for doubt that your fans, supporters, militia buddies, head stompers, fellow Republicans and Libertarians are open to your thinly veiled calls to violence. We watched what happened when Sarah Palin and John McCain played this game. They tossed out plenty of violent rhetoric, complete with crosshairs on posters, to incite violence. (Far as I know, not a single person was curb-stomped for those violent posters, like Lauren was for holding a humorous, non-violent poster that you didn’t like.) I am not alone in thinking that your party’s disgusting pretense that what happened during the McCain/Palin campaign was acceptable and inconsequential was dreadfully dishonest, especially since it was followed with the Gabby Giffords shooting, and other less deadly incidents.

There are consequences for all actions. This letter is to put you on notice that I consider your carefully worded speech to be a call to war against me, a vocal non-Christian, “liberal American elitist” who speaks out every chance I get to warn fellow citizens to pay close attention to what you and your party are doing. There is plenty of evidence (thanks for offering more in your speech yesterday) that you do wish me harm. All I wish for you is that you will be voted out of office and given a reality television show for your next career move.

My father was a peace-loving man in action as well as words. The one time I heard him make what could be considered a threat, it was to tell a man who had threatened me that he should probably hope nothing happened to me since his threat would make him a suspect. I’m saying the same to you. I’ve received small warnings/threats from your patriots [sic] when I’ve spoken the truth about you. 

Now, I want you to clean up everything you’ve said that could possible incite your base to harm me, or anyone else who doesn’t agree with them or share their religious beliefs. And, in case it’s too late to protect me that way, I’m sending a copy of this letter to everyone who might be able to hold you accountable should I be harmed in any way as a result of your careless decision to use rhetoric to incite violence against those of us who do not share your opinions or religious beliefs.

Sandy

cc: everyone who might be able to hold you accountable should I be harmed in any way

Senator Paul's worthless response:

June 18, 2013

Dear xxxxxxx,

Thank you for taking the time to contact me regarding my representation of the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I appreciate hearing your views on my approach.

It is my foremost responsibility as a United States Senator to uphold the Constitution, which is often forgotten by career politicians or those whose priority is to bring home pork-barrel spending projects. As I have stated many times, the pig is picked clean: Our nation is broke, and I am proud to represent Kentuckians who understand we cannot continue to borrow from other countries in order to fund the pet projects concocted in Washington, D.C.

Please know that I am honored to serve the people of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and that I will remain committed to defending the proper role of the federal government as long as I serve in the United States Senate.

Sincerely,

Rand Paul, MD
United States Senator

Open Letter to Neil, at Democracy for America

Neil,

Big mistake, Neil. Introducing your communication with the subject ‘making headlines’ is a real turn off for me. Bragging about headlines or media attention convinces me that you are like MoveOn and CREDO - far more concerned with the self-serving goals of name recognition and donations than you are with truth.

You call President Obama's proposals "profoundly disturbing" so I will even the score by calling your dangerous, knee-jerk, reactionary communications profoundly disturbing. On second thought, the score might not be so even. I consider what you’ve done far worse than profoundly disturbing.

President Obama did not choose this Congress; we did. That makes it unfair to criticize him for doing the best he can to work with the problems we gave him. Irresponsible knee-jerk reactions of groups like MoveOn, CREDO, and, I guess, Democracy for America contributed to the confusion that made many believe stupid things like 'both parties are the same' and 'President Obama is a traitor'. Consequently, they either didn't vote in 2010 or they cast what they call protest votes and I call wasted votes on 3rd party candidates. All actions have consequences and I am not happy living with the consequences of yours.

Please, remove me from your mailing list. I don't trust what you say and certainly don't want to contribute a cent of my money or minute of my time supporting your group.

Sincerely disappointed,

Sandy

This is the message that Wednesday does NOT want you to see!

Wow! Several of you stood up and demanded that today be Thursday. With your help, we managed to turn Wednesday into Thursday. We saw midnight approaching quickly, got that petition out asking you to TELL Wednesday to step aside and allow Thursday in, and you came through.  

We set a hefty goal of six signatures and you helped us reach that goal before midnight (almost - five out of six was close enough). Now, because we managed to get that petition out and you cared enough to sign it, today is Thursday.

However, our work is not done. We must pursue this project relentlessly. We have to let the calendar know we are serious and we will NOT accept any stalling or going backwards. In order to make tomorrow be Friday, we need your donations. 

Can you help by sending grins, heavy praise, and maybe a few guffaws or knee slaps? We would like to have at least three of each before our 2 p.m. deadline so we can generate the next free petition before midnight.

Your opinions matter greatly to us. Please answer the following questions to let us know what you would like to see us work on in the future.

⃝ Would like to see you change days

⃝ Would like to see you change nights

⃝ Notify me by email

⃝ Just send petitions to my gmail addy

⃝ Need 12 point font

⃝ Prefer 10 point font

⃝ Want to hear from you once a day

⃝ Want to hear from you daily

⃝ Hit me up hourly

Thanks for all you do!

----

To keep my head from exploding, I had a bit of fun with a Thursday petition. Within ten minutes of Ashley Judd’s Twitter announcement that she has decided not to run against Mitch McConnell for his Senate seat, a petition to draft the person we all knew was second in line appeared on my Facebook feed. That petition was as obviously ridiculous and useless as my Thursday petition—since the Clintons are behind Alison Lundergan Grimes—so it hit a raw nerve in me.

I’ll explain this raw nerve in case there is a person who hasn’t noticed the pattern. A number of groups (that seems to be growing daily) realize there is fame and fortune in providing a means for people to feel as though they have contributed when they really have done nothing, sorta like a prayer group. The ones that moved me from pet peeve to raw nerve status are MoveOn, CREDO, and Progress [sic] Kentucky.

The second news hits the inaccurate airwaves (sometimes before the sloppy reporters have even finished their inaccurate, invalidated stories) these groups pump out knee-jerk petitions with which to spam internet sites and email boxes. Sensationalized, often dishonest subject lines and carelessly worded letters accompany said petitions when they hit the email boxes. They demand that we TELL someone and their party what horrible thing we will not tolerate any longer, planting dishonest negative impressions about the person we are telling not to do what they haven’t done, or to do what they’ve already done.

For example, some right-wing nut job posts on Facebook that the girl his uncle dumped last week told him she heard Obama plans to remove all American flags from the White House. Every knee-jerk, lets-build-a-mailing-list-and-collect-donations group in existence shoots out an immediate petition asking us to TELL President Obama and the Democrats in Congress they must not remove the American flag from the White House. MoveOn follows up with a second email encouraging us to make our own petition (I thought about using that one for my Thursday petition because I’ve seen some almost like it come from SignOn), and then a third email that asks everyone else if they want MoveOn to support the one I made.

Then, when President Obama and the Democrats in Congress have the added burden of shirking this ridiculous rumor, and they have not removed the flags from the White House because they never had any intention of doing that in the first place, these same groups shoot out another email reminding us that they were first to warn us, they did the hard work of pounding out a petition and a couple of memes (or maybe posting someone else’s article or video on their site so they can collect hits and credit), and they deserve praise and brand recognition for protecting the American flags in the White House. Now, aren’t they wonderful and can we please send a donation to help them do this again tomorrow?

Not only is this annoying, it is harmful. Most of these Internet petitions are meaningless. I could have reached my goal of six on my own if I had wanted. And, like the people who say a prayer as they pass the hungry guy on the corner thinking prayer action is as good as forking over a smile, a dollar, or a vote for a candidate who might help them, meaningless petitions signers get to think their work is done. This scam provides one set of lazy people an avenue to ask for money and name recognition, and another set an easy out so they don’t have to think about doing the hard work.

I will be happy if my Thursday petition encourages thought and discussion about the groups that are more interested in name recognition and donations than they are about real issues and honesty.

Hubris: When I Told You So Is Not Fun

This feels so wrong. I’m dreadfully anxious as Rachel Maddow’s big reveal grows closer. If my interpretation of common perception is correct, I should be feeling smug – gloating even – about this huge opportunity to say, “I told you so.”

But this isn’t like being the one who correctly identified the lead singer in an old song, or guessing the exact number of miles before the next exit. This is about something that matters greatly and I’m fairly certain that anyone to whom I could smugly say, “I told you so,” will never believe the truth. This is not fun.

I plan to watch MSNBC’s film, Hubris, hosted by Rachel Maddow and based on Michael Isikoff and David Corn's book, tonight (February 18, 2013, 9 p.m.) although I will be shocked if I learn anything that I didn’t already know years ago. Scars will break open as I remember the many times and many ways I tried to convince others to pay attention because the Bush Administration lied and cost us lives, money, and reputation. And I will know that those people will not see this documentary or believe anyone who tries to tell them about it. They will continue to live in the dark, pulling their heads out of their sorry asses only long enough to ridicule others for caring about facts and to share more fear-mongering bushit that they learned from the Brietbart lie machine - since even Republican politicians admit that's where they are getting their lies these days. 

If anyone else still communicates with people who call themselves Republicans, I hope you will invite them to watch the Rachel Maddow show tonight, on MSNBC, at 9 central time.

UPDATE: As expected, I learned nothing new. This information was available to all who were paying attention at the time. I'm still glad I watched because this film was nice to see all if this information collected and presented so nicely, some from the mouths of people involved. Today, I wonder why no action was taken against the people who lied us into this costly (on many levels) mistake.

 

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