“Where Are We Headed?"

If there is one inescapable fact of life it is that the life process begins at birth and ends at death. There isn’t much we can do about that. To be sure, we can shorten or lengthen that continuum based upon the extent to which we choose to live a healthy or not-so-healthy lifestyle. We do have some control over that, and sanity suggests that we pay some reasonable degree of attention to that variable.

Like so many aspects of what we are all about, Americans tend to take this issue to extremes, as well. This has led us to a pre-occupation with remaining forever young, and obsessive about how we are going to hold on to the Fountain of Youth. If it weren’t so pathetic, it would be humorous in a morbid sort of way. Ponce de Leon tried to no avail and we haven’t the God-given sense to realize that it is forever beyond our grasp. Despite the extent to which we go in order to engage in the grand self-deception that it is somehow within our power to halt the aging process, it continues to elude us.

All one has to do is watch advertising and entertainment images on television, plus an occasional walk through a local shopping mall to realize just how far a field our obsessions have become.

The risks of bulimia and anorexia not withstanding, the ideal woman must still be little more than a skeleton covered by a tightly stretched covering of human flesh. Add to that a humongous set of boobs and you have the personification of the perfect female. Women with a well-rounded figure are a thing of the past; a relic from the days of old movies and glamour queens. Frankly, I’ll take the figure of a Marilyn Monroe to these human sticks any day.

Modern day mothers seem incapable of permitting their daughters to have a normal childhood. That is passé these days. No matter how young, the sooner they can get them into hip huggers, a bra and a plunging neckline, so much the better. I can only attribute that perversity to some warped notion of the mother’s sense of self-worth. Children deserve to be children, with all the innocence and wonder that goes with it. Instead, they are the objects of doting mothers who want the world to see what a perfect little living doll they have made her into. Conformity comes at a price. Individuality requires courage and a sense of proportion.

Men don’t get a free pass on this one either. Women are not only what they think men want them to be, but too many men, as well, want to be the perfect physical specimen for adoring women, as defined by entertainment figures and advertising executives. In order to do their part, you find them doing all they can to become the perfect male physique; big biceps, washboard abs, etc. This, of course, is the prelude to maintaining their sexual prowess and the envy of others, both women and men. Good luck, guys, because it won’t last forever and when you fall, you will fall big time. Father Time will stare you down and bring you back to reality.

I object to the advertising of prescription drugs, but don’t count out the limitless greed of the drug companies to do their part in this grand deception. Our households are bombarded with advertisements for no less than three different drugs for the purpose of addressing the problem of erectile dysfunction. They have no business being advertised in the media, and children have no business being subjected to that crap either. We don’t need to make a public spectacle of any man’s inability to get it up when “the need arises.” If that isn’t a private matter, I don’t know what is. The health of the prostate is yet another example of a potential male imperfection, and one more case of an industry-induced obsession with the pelvic region of the male anatomy. What is wrong with going to a physician when you have a problem, get a proper remedy and keep it a private matter? Do we really need to subject mixed company to this trash as an interlude in our entertainment bill of fare?

As if the foregoing isn’t enough, we are subjected to advertising of all sorts that shows the male and female of the species just short of total nudity. You would have to be from another planet not to realize that it is all pointing to the success of a sexual conquest. They are laying together in a bed on the beach, sharing a bathtub as the female appears to dutifully begin her decent to the lower reaches of the male sharing the experience, or speeding towards the nearest motel for the culmination of the Viagra experience. I can’t help but wonder how long it will take before we are all treated to the joy of witnessing full penetration as part of our daily entertainment. Sick though it may seem, I don’t discount that possibility one bit. I fail to realize what all the fuss is over a physical act that has been the basis of human procreation since we first set foot on the planet. Common decency dictates that it be a private matter between two consenting adults.

The one ad that I find the most repulsive is for a certain diet program based on a panoply of prepared meals that are guaranteed to produce the female equivalent of Aphrodite and the male equivalent of Adonis. I am convinced that the casting call for the human players in these vignettes go something like this: “Only slutty airheads with big breasts, bone-headed male caricatures with subnormal IQ’s, and has-been actors need apply.” What most strikes me about all this is what more is to be emulated by modern mankind, given his total preoccupation with the physical aspects of what he is all about. Somehow that seems a bit out of balance to me.

I will be the first to acknowledge that we have lost our moral compass traditionally provided by religious institutions. That they have become a means to acquire vast amounts of wealth for those in power, or that they have become gigantic bureaucratic monoliths requiring a battery of ecclesiastical experts in order to interpret the way to salvation goes without saying. But, I raise the question as to whether it is in our best interests, as people and as a civilization, to simply walk away from them and seek to define human conduct and morality strictly on our own terms? It seems to me that is an open invitation to slide into a state of total depravity, given our proclivity to rationalize our own self-indulgences at the expense of the finer aspects of our human nature, and at incalculable cost to our civilized existence. Is it not better to stick with what we have as religious institutions and try to change them from within, rather than abandon the only guiding lights of human decency we have left?

Christ walked with the common man and chose his disciples from the most humble among us. That is good enough for me and seems like a pretty good starting point for insisting that those to whom we have entrusted our salvation address our needs. Duping us into believing only they have the answers we seek, and only for a price, just doesn’t make much sense. In the final analysis, we are their “customers” (to use a chick term). I don’t wish to minimize their knowledge or the purity of their intent, but they need to understand that those who sit in the pews are not a bunch of sheep waiting to be led to slaughter. Rather, a goodly number of them have minds capable of critical thought, and have significant expectations of the clergy to respect that and to deliver the goods. Using the ecclesiastical shroud of mystery as a method of control just doesn’t wash in today’s world.

I don’t see that being glued to a television screen, a computer monitor, or staring blankly at the latest hand-held electronic companion is necessarily good for us. Maybe it is time for us to take some time away from all those electronic toys and reacquaint ourselves with family, friends and the human race. I have no doubt that would produce a wonderful world of re-discovery as to who and what we are, and would enrich our lives immeasurably.

In so many ways, we are a lonely, empty, and impoverished people. We not only need to take care of the earth we share, but we need to share a common purpose and care about each other through every step of this earthly journey. When we come to the end of that spectrum from birth to death, I choose to believe we will be much better off for having done so, and our immortal souls will be ever so much more pleasing to our Creator when we make that final journey. I accept that is beyond empirical proof and is nothing more than a simple act of faith. But what hope do we have without it?


Cowboy Bob
July 11, 2008

"Crime and Punishment"

In the time I have been around on this terra firma, I have witnessed successive generations of spoiled brats evolve into self-absorbed adults, begetting even greater spoiled brats who morph into even greater self-absorbed adults. We now live with what I perceive to be a population of totally selfish humanoids, totally obsessed with materialistic and hedonistic pursuits, and reveling in the bliss of self-imposed ignorance the likes of which I never dreamed possible.

The first discernible leak in the dike seems to have occurred around the time when Dr. Spock made the scene and firmly established the beachhead of permissive parenting. That set the stage for the spawning of all sorts of disciplines subsumed under the title of “behavioral scientists,” that found a reason and an explanation for every conceivable kind of aberrant human behavior. It seems as if everyone is now the victim.

I grew up in a time when it was rather well understood that privilege belonged to adults and, with hard work and maturity, children would eventually earn their place as adults, with all the rights and privileges thereto pertaining. We have now evolved from an adult-centered society to a child-centered society. No longer do we give credence to such notions as character, honor, integrity, discipline and morality. Those are as passé as home-cooked meals, and what a price our society has paid for their indulgences and our folly. Discipline begets self-discipline. Self-discipline begets character, honor, integrity, and the very moral fiber that binds good and decent people together. With the passage of time and this evolution toward more permissive enlightenment, we have little more than social, political and economic chaos.

One of the most glaring consequences of what we have wrought is the naïve belief that we are all governed by the same system of laws. Rather, the application of laws seems to be situational and, more often than not, predicated on economic and social status. If one is a member of the elite Washington Establishment, it is almost certain that the laws of the land simply do not apply, save for a peek in a restroom stall or cavorting with a prostitute. Otherwise, our nation’s Capitol, and indeed the country, are up for grabs. One can lie a nation into war, flaunt the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, consign over 4,000 young men and women to an early death, and bankrupt the country without so much as a slap on the wrist. Meanwhile, impeachment is “off the table,” per Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid. After all, they cannot put the nation through all that, but they will dutifully go out, wave the flag, extol the virtues of those having made the “ultimate sacrifice” in order to protect our country, and bankrupt the nation without so much as a whimper. On the other hand, if one is at the other end of the socio-economic spectrum, you can bet your bippy that the strong arm of the law stands poised to randomly strike for the least serious of infractions.

I am sufficiently idealistic as to cling to the belief that the law should apply equally to every citizen of this country. That crime is on the rise doesn’t require a battery of polls or social studies to confirm that fact. All one has to do is to watch the evening news with some degree of regularity. However, what we throw some people in the slammer for and let others off for begs logical explanation.

I think we need to re-visit the merits of individual responsibility and accountability. If you did it, you pay the consequences. On the other hand, I think the whole issue of what we incarcerate people for needs to be re-examined. Our system is all over the board and simply makes no sense whatsoever. There are just too many people in prison for crimes that don’t warrant incarceration. There are, also, too many people walking the streets who should be cooling their heels behind bars.

Individual and collective responsibility need to be re-introduced as essential to life in a civilized society. “Doing your own thing” is a credo for excesses that even the most primitive of cultures abhor. That particular philosophy has been around for a sufficient period of time to clearly establish that it has not and does not accrue to our collective benefit.

Parents should be held responsible for the actions of their offspring up to age 18. If one of their little dimpled darlings destroys or vandalizes property or does bodily harm to another, well Mom and Dad should be on the spot for paying recompense for such behavior, even at the expense of re-financing the home, car, etc. The taxpayers should not have to bear any part of the burden. We have enough on our plate with myriad other more pressing needs.

I just don’t buy into all that is peddled by the various organized groups of bleeding hearts that salvation is there for everyone, if only we will give him or her another chance. Some people are just bad from the “get-go” and no amount of resources beamed at restoring them will ever produce positive results. It shouldn’t take a brain buster to objectively determine who falls into this category, so they can be duly put away in order to spare society the cost of their criminal behavior Violent career criminals and sex offenders readily come to mind.

I am one who just doesn’t happen to believe that violent sex offenders and pedophiles ever change. As far as I am concerned, there is no cure. Violent sex offenders should go directly to the big house with no possibility of parole. Following the outcome of their appeal, if the charge still stands, castration and a guaranteed lifetime cell should follow. As for non-violent pedophiles, the minimum sentence should be lifetime parole, with the clear understanding that the first time he falls off the wagon, off with the plumbing and directly to the slammer without passing “GO” and collecting $200. If you abuse it, you lose it. That should be easily understood.

As for the rest of those wayward souls who run afoul of the law, I don’t lump them all together. We need to seriously look at a two-tiered prison system.

For first-time offenders, minus sociopaths and violent criminals, the prison system to which they are consigned should be based on a model designed to provide maximum opportunity for rehabilitation and their return to society. Life and accommodations there could be modeled after that provided for basic training to our armed forces. Education and a therapeutic milieu should provide for the opportunity to acquire an education and learn how to master the skills necessary to be functioning members of society. Entertainment and literature should be devoid of violence and sexually explicit materials. Access to the Internet should be restricted if not prohibited altogether. College courses could be taught for credits toward a degree. As the foundation for a sound liberal arts education, a course should be available on the 100 Greatest Books Ever Written. Given that the population is there because of criminal conduct, there would need to be a structured regimen and a disciplined lifestyle.

Part of the sentence should be a field trip to the second of a two-tiered prison system, the one for career and violent criminals, augmented by classes on what it means to be a member of that population. The message and admonition should clearly convey that if you don’t make it after the first tier, the next time you offend you will be on the fast-tract to the real deal, where rehabilitation is not the order of the day; punishment is.

Because we seem to have lost sight of the value of discipline and punishment in favor of what are euphemistically referred to as “country club prisons, life in the second-tier prison system should be hard time characterized by an austere lifestyle and hard work. Entertainment should be limited to educational television channels and public broadcasting. No videos or access to the Internet. No violent or sexually explicit materials of any kind, including reading material. College courses could be made available, but not in Law or Criminal Justice. Time devoted on how to beat the system should have no place here.

Workdays should be 10 - 12 hours, six days per week, Labor would be devoted to manual arts such as making license plates, and building furniture and pre-fabricated homes for indigent populations, victims of disasters, military bases, prison populations, etc. Proceeds from disaster relief and welfare organizations could be used to defray the cost to the taxpayers for operation of the prison systems.

The option of parole should be applied within strict guidelines and not be subject to liberal interpretation where society is likely to get the short end of the stick. John Q. Public has had quite enough, thank you.


Cowboy Bob
July 2, 2008

"Reflections on Fathers' Day"

Today is Fathers’ Day and an important day for a lot of kids, both young and old, who remember the patriarch of the family with a great deal of love and respect. As for me, I have never coped with holidays very well. Most were tinged with sadness brought on by a variety of circumstances.

I grew up poor and, for me, so many of the wonderful fantasies associated with Christmas, Easter, etc., that are a part of every person’s life, just weren’t a part of my childhood. I can never forget how many times I searched my very soul for an answer as to why Santa Claus left us so little, all of which was practical, when I tried so hard to be a good kid. For reasons I could never explain, I just didn’t measure up to most other kids who were blessed by that charming old elf.

I will never forget the time the Easter Bunny didn’t bother to stop at our house. I was seven years old for that one. My brother, sister and I searched the house from top to bottom while my Mother quietly sobbed, sitting at the kitchen table. Finally, she said “Kids I hate to tell you this but the Easter Bunny didn’t come this year.” In that instant, Easter became a holiday that, to this day, I simply cannot enjoy. The old rabbit let me down and I was never quite able to forgive him for it.

When I was a very young boy just beginning to file memories away for later recall, I absolutely worshipped the ground my Dad walked on. He was gone from home a lot, away shearing sheep, working on various ranches, etc., so he could come home with enough money to sustain us for a few more months. I would so look forward to the day he would return and, as he came through the door, he would sweep me up in his arms and give me a big hug. I never felt so secure and happy than I did on those occasions. They were times that nourished my very soul. I can’t quite recall just how old I was at the time, but on one of his glorious returns, when I ran to him, he said, “Son, I think it is time we started shaking hands like real men.” I have never felt so rejected or as deeply hurt as I did at that moment. My world of safety, security and profound love for my Dad evaporated right before my eyes. To this day, some 60 plus years later, the pain of that initiation into the world of what he thought was that of “real men” has never left me and I never gave my Dad a pass for what he did. I loved him so much.

My Dad grew up even poorer than I and I am sure he had more than his share of disappointments, as well, but which he rarely talked about to anyone. He kept them to himself, but whatever the pain of those experiences was, caused him to despise his own Father. It led him to engage in a variety of hopes, dreams and fantasies that never materialized, but which he held to tenaciously for his entire life. He loved horses and so regretted that he wasn’t born a hundred years earlier so he could have lived the life of a “real” cowboy. The only time I saw tears in his eyes was when he recounted that wish to me. I wanted to cry with him, but I didn’t.

My Dad was a good horseman and was never happier than when he was on a horse. He had an eye for good horse flesh and trained them all extremely well. He gave his all to rodeo competition in calf roping and cow cutting, knowing all the time that one day soon he would be the World’s Champion Calf Roper or Cow Cutter. The dream eluded him and he never made the first string. Oh, there are still a few of his trophies around but they were more consolation prizes than that of a winner, and he knew it. Hey, something was better than nothing but I always knew the pain of disappointment was there deep within him. He had a good singing voice and he gave it his all. He knew that one day someone would come along who would recognize his talent. He was certain that he would shoot to the top of the game, with all the attendant fame and fortune it would bring. Like so many of his dreams, that one died a quiet death, as well.

He was a stern disciplinarian, the sting of which I felt once in a while. But he was absolutely brutal to my older brother. As I grew older I became aware of the disparity with his affections and came to bitterly resent him for it. He tried to vicariously relive his life as a rodeo cowboy through me. I humored him by going through the motions, but that was not my bag. He was devastated when I told him that I wanted to go to college and be a professional man. Our relationship was never quite the same after that.

He felt that so much of that to which he was rightfully entitled had been denied him. Behaviorally, that notion manifested itself in selfishness at the expense of his family. A good Stetson hat and a pair of custom made boots where his right. We three kids were going to school with holes in the soles of our shoes. He would let us know that he was poor as a kid and now it was our turn to sacrifice so he could have what he had missed. All it did was to reinforce a seething anger that was growing within me.

He was a rounder of the first order. It seemed as if there was always another woman in his life. We all suffered that indulgence, but none more than my Mother. She remained silent and, I am sure, felt very much alone in the face of that assault on her rightful role as wife and partner. It was a part of him that was manifest most of his adult life and it took a terrible toll on our family. My anger towards him only intensified.

The estrangement from my Dad followed in the wake of one of these numerous dalliances. I just couldn’t take any more, so I cut off all contact with him for over four years. I had long ago ceased to care what he was feeling. As the ice gradually melted we, too, mellowed but things were never quite the same.

So, what lessons did I take from these formative years in my young life? I learned not to trust at a very early age. I played it close to the hip and never let my guard down. I learned that love was the stuff of movies but was rarely a part of real life. I learned that being vulnerable was a sure sign of weakness and of a fundamentally flawed character. The skeletons of the past were better left in the closet. I cannot recall my Dad ever manifesting vulnerability or real love. He could be charming, witty and affable, but I doubt that few, if any, ever really saw the authentic and genuine Bill. And, most of all, I learned that success in life meant you pursued a goal that would net you the most money in the shortest period of time so the specter of poverty would never again darken your door. That was the course I set for myself and I never wavered. In the end, it only brought me an ocean of disappointment in what I was versus what I could have and should have been. A career in broadcast journalism would have made me as happy as a clam, but the risks associated with real success were too frightening for me. Instead, I chose a career that I hated every waking moment of my working life and made me one of the best professional whores in the business. Fear of failure became my nemesis and I always played it safe. As a result, I never gave it my best, my employer never got full measure and I never had an ounce of satisfaction in what I did.

As the years have passed, I no longer subscribe to the notion that being a real man is necessarily synonymous with being macho. Being a real man takes a lot of character. Being macho is nothing more than posturing and bluster. Real men are not afraid to be open and vulnerable to those near and dear to their hearts. Real men don’t withhold their hugs, an arm around the shoulders or a pat on the back and don’t try to substitute a hand shake for the real deal. Real men know that love is so much more than what is tied to their sexual virility. Real men accept the fact that maturity and age are an unavoidable part of the life process. They don’t try to substitute erection enhancing drugs for the wisdom and character that only comes from a life honestly and well lived. They know that love quickly morphs from hormone overload into endearing affection for those they care so deeply about.

I find it rather curious that all of the qualities Our Dear Lord mandated that we should be are, more often than not, the very qualities looked upon with the greatest disdain by those who subscribe to the masculine myth.

My Dad and I never had the opportunity to mend the fences between us because of distance and separate lives. Only once did we have the chance to sit at a bar and tip a few together. I recall looking him right in the eye and asking him how many women he had “known” in his life. Without a second of hesitation he answered, 97. I was stunned and I asked what made him do it. He looked at me with eyes like those of a cherished pet who has been severely scolded and replied, “Bob, don’t ask me because I can’t tell you.” I knew I was probing into a part of his life where I had no business going. But I did realize that there was something there that was so much more difficult than I could ever imagine and I really didn’t want to pursue it any further. I have speculated on all sorts of reasons that could explain his behavior, but for the sake of his memory and my own peace of mine I, too, know that it is best left at its place in time.

I never got to his funeral because of s snowstorm in Southern Wyoming. As a consequence, we never really had the chance to make peace with each other. But, as the years have passed, I see him in a different light. His life and his failures are his for all time to come. It is best left there. However, I have come to realize that he probably was gripped by many of the same fears in his life that have been with me in mine. Intimacy was impossible for him; it has been difficult for me. He probably knew many times in his life when he ached to bare his soul and reveal his demons to someone close to him, just to ease the pain of the burdens he carried, but there was never anyone he could trust enough. As I write these words I realize that they aren’t necessarily pearls of wisdom coming from my intellect but, rather, are visceral insights into my own life.

I have forgiven my Dad. Now, in the twilight years of my own life, I pray every night that my Creator will help me to internalize and manifest what I regard as the four greatest attributes of the human condition:

1. Unconditional love
2. Unconditional acceptance
3. Unconditional understanding
4. Unconditional forgiveness

Those are, in my humble opinion. the four cornerstones of a well-adjusted human being. Without question, the most noble is forgiveness.

Fear, in all of its manifestations, is surely our greatest enemy.

As I reflect on this Father’s Day I cannot help but wonder how much of my better side has been denied my two children because of the way I am wired. The old adage to the effect that “The apple does not fall far from the tree,” scares me. Perhaps the time has come for me to ask them before it is too late.

Happy Father’s Day.


Cowboy Bob
June 15, 2008

"The End of Act I"

I am reasonably certain that the nation has given a collective sigh of relief that the circus of the Democratic National Primaries is finally coming to a close.

When it all began, about one and one-half years ago, I was enthused and excited at the prospects of what might eventually come out of it all. I have been glued to the television set, cheering one moment and cursing the next. When all but Obama and Clinton were left standing, I looked forward to a serious contest to the finish line. But I have to admit, it lasted far too long for me. The Iraq war rages on, the mortgage meltdown has intensified, the cost of gasoline has gone through the stratosphere and unemployment is growing by the day. At this point, I just want to see it all come to an end and finally see just what can be salvaged from our national disaster, so we can all get on with our lives.

At the outset I was very taken with Barack Obama. I still think he is sincere, bright and articulate. I think he will make a good president, but I am a little more cautious with my optimism. I think he could have conducted a better run in parts of the country that are hardest hit by globalization and free trade, and those whose issues are, for the most part, bread and butter. I don’t necessarily believe he is an elitist nor do I believe he should feign being “one of the boys” by engaging in behavior that is out of character for him. Obviously, he is not an accomplished bowler nor does he seem to be the type who would throw down shots of whiskey and chase them down with a mug of beer. However, much could be said for him if he simply and overtly acknowledged his differences in style with his audience. Pledging to understand their plight and vowing to work his heart out for them would have done wonders for him. That, I believe, would have gotten him a few more miles down the road in terms of his own credibility. As for his religion and his past history in that regard, it is none of our business and the news media would have been well advised to drop the issue and focus on what this next election is really all about. But, that doesn’t run up the ratings, does it?

As for Hillary Clinton, the literature is replete with the details of the blind ambition and sleaze by both her and Bill. They are not the paragons of integrity they would have us believe. When it comes to their political and personal ambitions, they have demonstrated they don’t take prisoners. She certainly revealed that side of her nature in the instances where she fawned all over Obama on stage, only to repeatedly kick him in the gonads, over and over again, after the fact. It is no secret that lying and deception are legitimate parts of their arsenal in the war to win at all costs. There is enough in print about both of them for any reasonably literate junior high school student to easily write a comprehensive doctoral dissertation. But, for all the volumes written about them, the news media and the Washington establishment have chosen to ignore that reality. After all she has given of herself through public service, she deserves our respect, not our condemnation. Bull puckey!

Bill Clinton should have been thrown out of office when he demonstrated his total lack of respect for the ultimate symbol of the Office of the President and the American people by his antics with Monica Lewinsky in the Oval Office. Hillary should have gotten an Oscar for her performance as the hapless victim on one hand and her steadfast defense of Billy Boy on the other. Give me a break. They just don’t have what it takes to be listed very high up in the social register. Given the fortune they have amassed in just seven short years, they will never have to work for a living again. It is time they went back to Arkansas and settle down in a nice double-wide. Hillary could take up the art of baking cookies and Bill could teach sex education at a local junior college, including live demonstrations. The nation has had enough of both of them.

I love the posturing of Hillary in the wake of her defeat in the primaries, and the unrelenting and belligerent person she has shown herself to be. I am tired of all the crap about giving her some time and space for all this to settle in and for the sake of her feelings. Now I ask you, if Hillary was a man do you honestly believe there would be the slightest concern about her feelings? Get real. She is playing the gender card. If women want equality, then using their feminity to their advantage is off limits. If Hillary’s tears were genuine in New Hampshire, then they should have been ignored. A box if tissues should have been handed to her, and she should have been told to buck up. Gender equality is not situational. You can’t have it both ways. After all, look what happened to Edmund Muskie when he lost his emotional composure during his run for the presidency. The harpoons were quick to follow and he lost the race.

The reporters and pundits in the news media are a source of entertainment in and of themselves. They are asked what they think so-and-so is going to do, what he/she is thinking at the moment, how they are feeling about an issue at any given moment, etc. Hell, they would all have to be a bunch of clairvoyants as a basic prerequisite for doing their job. What a bunch of poppycock. They are there to report the news.

As for Barack Obama, I do share the view that his choice of a running mate as the Vice-President is of paramount importance. I don’t think it is appropriate to be used to pay back political debts or other obligations. The selection of a VP should be based on the need for complimentary skills and experience to those held by the President. If Obama is serious about demonstrating “bi-partisanship” and “reaching across the isle,” then someone from the other party or an independent should not be excluded from the running. Frankly, I think Senator Chuck Hagel would be a damned good fit. He is a Vietnam Veteran, he has served with distinction in the U.S. Senate, he has been steadfastly opposed to the Iraq War and has been a successful businessman. He is strong and a man of tremendous integrity. I have no doubts that he would be instrumental in Obama garnering a lot of votes from Independents and Liberal Republicans in the forthcoming General Election. I, also, think there should be room in Obama’s Cabinet for Joe Biden, Chris Dodd, Bill Richardson, John Edwards and Dennis Kucinich.

As for Hillary and former Senator Grassley? Naw, I don’t think so. We have had enough. The final curtain has come down on Act I. Time to move from the Theater of the Absurd to reality. The country and, indeed, the world cannot wait any longer.


Cowboy Bob
June 6, 2008

"The Prey"

Some years ago I wrote this short story about my encounter with one of nature's most endearing creatures, a small bunny. I recounted this incident to my friend, Carolyn Rose, who encouraged me to venture out into the world of writing. Her talent and guidance are largely responsible for this piece. My niece encouraged me to reprint it for distribution on this blog. I hope you enjoy it.

It was one of those hot, dry days that summer spawns on the western slope of the Cascade Range after the spring rains subside. The relentless wind sucks the life blood out of the lush, green landscape, leaving it brown and rough like the hands of a lumberjack. The soft carpet of grass has turned into a lifeless mass. My footsteps raise minor dust clouds around my feet. As I walk over it, it sounds like crumpling tissue paper at a child’s birthday party.

I had just finished mowing the lawn and I was covered with dust, grass clippings and evergreen needles. As I walked to the backdoor of the house I could feel the grit in my eyes. My sinuses burned. My parched mouth was like parchment. A growing sunburn on the back of my neck was beginning to radiate heat.

I poured a big tumbler full of iced tea and relaxed in a big chair to watch the national news of the day. The tea had a clean, crisp taste. The resonate voice and metered words of Dan Rather intoned a litany of major domestic and world events, little of which was the least bit uplifting. It sounded as if the whole world was on one gigantic killing spree. Will it ever stop?

A sudden movement disturbed my peripheral vision. I turned to look out the glass door. There was one of the family cats, waiting anxiously to show me her prize catch of the day – a baby rabbit about six inches long. I hastily jumped to my feet, opened the door and shouted at the cat. My reaction startled her. She dropped the little, furry bit of life. He struggled to drag his limp hind legs behind a bucket of water placed there for the dog. I was sure he was paralyzed. I was overcome by an overwhelming sense of sadness as I watched his valiant struggle to survive the ordeal.

I couldn’t fault the cat. She was only doing what nature had programmed her for – to be a consummate predator. She was bringing her catch to proudly show her master; a gift for one higher up in the predatory chain.

As I carefully picked up the bunny and took it with me to the overstuffed chair where I had been sitting, I thought how fragile all life seems to be, particularly in today’s world. I checked him over but I could find no puncture wounds. His heart was racing, he eyes were dilated and he struggled to free himself from my grasp. I sat down and cradled him in my arm close to my body. He snuggled in and I could feel his heart rate returning to normal. Within a few minutes his eyes were back to a soft brown and he ceased to resist my attempts at holding him. I gently stroked his ears. His coat was soft as down. I knew our time together would be limited, but I was enjoying the moment.

The predator – prey relationship is one that has always mystified me. Domestic cats typify the predator. They hunt whether they are hungry or not. The thrill and the excitement of the chase and the kill seem to be the essence of their nature. Now, mind you, I like cats but I don’t understand why they have to be so cunning and stealthy. “How is that tiny rabbit anything but prey?” I asked myself, when all he covets is, perhaps, a meadow filled with sweet clover or stolen bounty from a carrot patch? Why must his lot in life be the fear of discovery, the panic of the chase and the sting of death? Why is it all so one sided and seemingly unfair?

There is a wonderful bond that develops between a wild animal and a man when fate brings them together, no matter what the circumstances may be. Perhaps it is special because it is so rare, so fleeting but so profound. It is like the doe that lingers with her new fawn for just a bit longer than expected as if to say to us, “Isn’t he just the grandest thing you’ve every seen?” Or the bond we feel with a coyote that pauses for one last attenuated stare before retreating into the safety of the tall grass. No matter how it happens, there is an overwhelming sense at having been a part of something extraordinary.

A person has to be unusually calloused not to be touched by the baby of any fur-bearing animal. Maybe they reminds us of a favorite stuffed toy from our childhood or of our own vulnerability when we were children. No matter the reason, we almost always seem to instinctively want to cuddle and protect them. I thought about the softer side of our human nature. I am convinced that is the essence of the Divine Master within us.

As I looked down at that tiny life snuggled so close to my body, I knew I had to face the reality of the situation. I could have kept him forever, but that is not where he belonged. I felt a slight lump in my throat as I wondered if he would be able to hop to safety. If he could not, I knew I would have to show him mercy by putting him out of his misery. It occurred to me that an act of mercy can often be infinitely more painful than an act of violence.

Religions preach that God lives within each of us. The quintessential struggle we all carry through life, that between good and evil, reminds us of that perhaps more often than we would like. Mercy carries the sword of compassion; vengeance carries the sword of destruction. Our Creator demands the former and the strength to overcome the latter. “Not a bad reminder brought on by a small rabbit,” I thought.

As much as I hated to shatter the spell of that very special encounter, I knew I had to take him outside and give him a chance to go free. I slowly stood. He didn’t struggle to break free. I went outside, knelt down and gently paced him in the grass. He made no attempt to move. My heart raced at the thought of having to administer the coup de grace because of his inability to take the leap to freedom. I lingered longer than I should, gently stroking his ears and back, but he remained motionless. Finally, as I got up to go inside and get the gun, he suddenly stood erect and hopped off at great speed into the woods. A broad smile crossed my face.

The last I saw of that little rabbit was his small, white cotton tail fading into the rich greenery of the forest. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would live today only to become the prey of tomorrow. I didn’t really want to think about that, but the predator lost this round and I was glad.

I have never quite come to terms as to why God’s Plan requires that the life of a gentle creature must be sacrificed in order that the aggressor might survive. That seems to be the destiny of the rabbit, the gazelle and the lamb – all for the sake of the cat, the lion and the man.


Cowboy Bob
July 2001

“He Is What He Is”

Last night I watched the National Memorial Day Concert in Washington, D.C. on public television. As always, the pageantry and entertainment were dazzling. The scripted words were moving. I was touched by all it represented.

What most galls me about these events is the extent to which the architects of war bask in the glory of those to whom they refer as having “paid the ultimate sacrifice.” As they stand before us with the American flags at their backs, dripping in gold and uttering lofty words that ring hollow in my ears, I am overcome by a slight wave of nausea. I don’t trust military brass any more than I do the politicians to whom they are beholden. For the most part, they covet the trappings of power and privilege that goes with their station in life, often realized by the sacrifice of those they praise. I can’t even begin to imagine the silent cadre of those who walk the halls of the Pentagon, routinely selling out their country to the military-industrial complex, devoid of any shame, looking upon their dastardly deeds as routine business. As Lord Action so aptly stated, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

While those of lesser station pay the ultimate sacrifice, the military brass live lives of comfort and privilege akin to those on the upper rungs of the social ladder. They retire with fat pensions, become lobbyists and engage in other endeavors that are the direct result of having “served their country with distinction.” Those returning from their wars, whose lives are in shambles, have to fight and beg for every benefit they need in order to ease the pain and a lifetime of suffering that have become their lot by having served their country. Meanwhile, over thirty from the ranks of retired military “brass” lined up behind Hillary Clinton, extolling her experience as a superior qualifier for the presidency. What experience? She has no executive experience. That, alone, speaks volumes. Yeah, shower us all with more of your bovine scatology.

The greatest affront to the nation at last night’s gala on the mall was the role played by Colin Powell. Have you noticed the lengths to which his cronies are going to sanitize his character and polish his image? He is even being rumored as a possible candidate for vice-president in the forthcoming presidential elections, no doubt as part of the right “mix,” deemed by the political pundits as most marketable to the American electorate. This is the same guy who sat before the United Nations, knowingly and willingly peddling doctored photographs, and false statistics, all the while intoning the imminent threat of bogus weapons of mass destruction about to come raining down around our heads. His good looks and resonate voice not withstanding, he is nothing but a common, garden-variety liar! No amount of burnishing will restore the lost luster of honor to his blemished character. He is what he is.

I doubt that Colin Powell was a particularly remarkable military strategist or leader. He got where he is through his skill at playing the political game, and he has benefited handsomely from his success in that regard. He was at the right place at the right time. The most glaring flaw in his makeup is his total lack of character. He alone could have aborted the disastrous invasion of Iraq by simply telling the truth; exposing what was being asked of him and resigning his position as Secretary of State rather than continue being a part of the grand deception. He could have, and should have, been the chief critic of the war and those who sold this nation a bill of goods leading up to it. Instead, he chose his own personal ambitions at the expense of the nation and the lives of over 4,000 young men and women. Countless numbers of others have been physically and emotionally scarred by having served their country with honor and distinction. And the toll continues to rise. Their blood will forever stain the hands of Colin Powell. He isn’t worthy to stand in the shadow of one foot- soldier, much less extol the courage and sacrifice of all the real heroes we honor this Memorial Day.

That the apple does not fall far from the tree is further underscored by the antics of Colin Powell’s son, Michael. While serving as Chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, he presided over the wholesale giveaway of publicly owned airwaves to the corporate behemoths that now use those airwaves to serve their own ends, rather than the common good. His bank account, no doubt, speaks to the success of his public service. Good job, Michael. A chip off the old block.

Yes, the Powell’s will surely go down in history as one of America’s most distinguished military families for all they have given through their tireless efforts on behalf of the country. Hogwash! They are nothing but a bunch of elitist frauds. I rather doubt they have ever done much of anything that did not net them a seat at the head table.

In the absence of any genuine shame and remorse, I can only hope that Divine Justice and the ghosts of all those who have fallen victim to the likes of Colin Powell, and those of like mind, will haunt them every day for the rest of their lives. They deserve nothing less.

Cowboy Bob
May 26, 2008

“Whistling Past the Graveyard”

We Americans are a curious and at times a rather pathetic lot. We have a marvelous ability to deny reality and remain totally unaware of the constant state of self-imposed ignorance in which we live. We seem to have lost our ability to stand for much of anything beyond our own vested self-interests. The ability to hold ourselves and our public servants to some semblance of moral standards is seriously flawed. But, what can you expect from a populace that feasts on a diet of “Dancing With The Stars,” “American Idol,” “American Gladiator,” etc., at the expense of being informed about what is going on around them and how it may affect their lives?

We behave as if adversity of any kind is only a temporary phenomenon, so not to worry. Things will return to normal soon and we can revert back to our old ways of raping the earth of its bounty of finite resources in our gluttoness pursuit of pleasure and self-indulgence. We can tolerate corruption on the part of government and big business so long as we get our slice of the pie, even at the expense of our less fortunate brethren. After all, as was so aptly stated in “Gone with the Wind,” by Scarlet O’Hara, “I’ll think about that tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day.”

By the most conservative estimates, we are ten percent (10%) of the world’s population consuming thirty percent (30%) of its resources. Few seem to be particularly interested or concerned about this sad testimony to what we have become. It is as if we have some divine right to all the world has to offer, with absolutely no obligation to assume some responsibility for conservation on behalf of the rest of the world.

We seem to have abandoned any notion of personal responsibility or moral obligation for whom and what we are. Sadly, that kind of attitude comes at a horrific cost, the manifestations of which have only begun to come down on our heads. It isn’t pretty and it is only going to get worse.

In the 1970’s we experienced a gas shortage perpetrated by King Faisal of Saudi Arabia. Gas lines became a common sight and people were dumping their gas-guzzling cars as fast as they could get rid of them. Fuel economy and alternative forms of energy were the new buzz words in our lexicon of the latest fads. Conservation and innovation were to be a major part of the backbone of our economy. As soon as the crisis was over we went right back to our big cars, pickup trucks, motor homes, etc. The crisis was past and any interest in reducing our dependence on foreign oil, developing new forms of energy and improving mileage on motor vehicles was no longer of any interest or concern to us. The moment had passed and we were back to indulging our every appetite until the next crisis came along. After all, “tomorrow was another day.” The behemoths of corporate and government corruption gave a sigh of relief. We turned a blind eye and a deaf ear. It was back to business as usual.

Had we been a forward looking people with a common bond among ourselves, we would have put our shoulders to the wheel in order to solve the problem of our dependence on fossil fuels. Motor vehicles on America’s highways today would be powered by the most advanced and sophisticated hybrids, hydrogen cells, bio-diesels and other unimagined forms of technology. Now the foreboding prophecy of the 1970’s has come home to haunt us. Here we stand with our pants down around our ankles and totally bewildered as to what will be wrought by this latest misfortune or, better yet, catastrophe. Guess what folks? There just isn’t any quick fix and we are totally unprepared to deal with what we face. We did it to ourselves by our false optimism and a chronic myopic view of the world. We have dropped the family jewels in the proverbial vice, I fear. And the vice is just beginning to tighten.

I don’t for a minute believe that what we are facing is simply the result of the market forces at work. It came upon us too quickly and too severely. There just has to be more to it than that. I am more inclined to believe it is payback time.

Firstly, we have our Coward in Chief in the White House whose family has a long history of close ties to the rich and powerful of Saudi Arabia, most notably the Bin Laden Family. Secondly, we have a Vice Coward and crook whose ties go back to the oil and gas industry in Wyoming and Texas. Given the shroud of secrecy with which he has surrounded himself, God only knows where all of his tentacles of influence and corruption reach. Thirdly, we have huge petrochemical corporations making absolutely obscene profits at the expense of the people of this country, with not the slightest qualm of conscience. They aren’t even embarrassed by what they have done and continue to do. But, they have their buddies in the administration running interference for them. What more do they need?

George H.W. Bush, as the first Iraq war was coming to a close, stopped short of invading Baghdad at the urging of King Fahd of Saudi Arabia because the Saudis did not want to share a common border with a country ruled by a Shiite majority. Then, in 2003, along came our newly crowned Coward in Chief who invaded Iraq for the second time, based on a pack of lies. Our Congress readily acquiesced about which they have been moaning and gnashing their teeth ever since. The most egregious folly of his grand deception was to disenfranchise a Sunni Muslim minority in power and hand it over to the long dreaded Shiite Muslim majority. Now, the new ruling majority in Iraq (Shiites) has become cozy with their brethren in Iran, and the Sunnis, who once enjoyed a close relationship with their Sunni allies, sit on the periphery of this new alliance wondering what happened and what is yet to come. Georgie Porgie’s betrayal of Daddy’s promise to King Fahd has thrown the whole region into chaos with an uncertain future.

All of the foregoing is topped off with a long standing and one-sided foreign policy by the United States which clearly favors the State of Israel at the expense of the Arab and Islamic world. Nothing demonstrates our convoluted definition of “free and open elections,” more than our mandate to Gaza for such elections. There was no qualifier to the effect that the U.S. wanted “an open and free election that will guarantee the results the United States and the State of Israel desire." When things did not come out the way we expected and Hamas was elected by the Palestinians, we refused to recognize their government which was brought about through “a free and open election.” Now, folks, if that isn’t a lose-lose situation, I don’t know what is!

All of this has resulted in (1) a major betrayal of our Sunni allies by a precipitous invasion of Iraq, and (2) almost total alienation of the entire Middle East through a foreign policy that is clearly one-sided in favor of the State of Israel. None of this makes for solid and lasting friendships in the region.

We have lost a long-standing friendship with Saudi Arabia and other Sunni states in and around the Arabian Peninsula. Iran is taking great delight in flexing its muscles and irritating the United States. Hezbollah is a formidable force with which we have to reckon, and Al Quaida continues to flourish in the remoteness of Afghanistan and Pakistan. Lebanon is once again in turmoil, and we are uncertain as to where Russia and China stack up in all this.

When a friend of long standing figuratively seduces you, is it not a rather natural reaction to want to get even? I suspect that is much of what is really happening to us at the gas pump. Our friends on whom we have relied for so long are no longer with us. With China funding our war in Iraq and foreign interests buying up our financial institutions, compounded by the transfer of industry and technology, and the outsourcing of jobs from the U.S. overseas, all of our bluster about being the “richest and most powerful nation in the world" has a hollow ring to it.

We can take some solace in knowing that no one on earth does self-deception better than we do.

No point in whistling past the graveyard anymore. The demons are long gone and reside comfortably atop most of the oil reserves in the world. We will get what we pay for and nothing more. That certainly is not a pretty picture to contemplate. We need to grow up.

Cowboy Bob
May 22, 2008

"Uncle Bug"

Times are tough for a lot of folks these days and appear to be getting worse for a whole lot more. I don’t think it is going to get much better anytime soon.

As I was pondering our rather sad state of affairs, the notion of “hope” crept into my mind for no apparent reason. It took me back to a time when I had just graduated from college, filled with myself and my newfound perspective on the world. I was as offensive as any new college graduate ever thought of being. I didn’t just think I had all the answers, I knew I did!

I lived in San Francisco and was an avid reader of a newspaper column in the San Francisco Chronicle under the heading “The Fearless Spectator” written by Charles McCabe. He wasn’t just good, he was damned good. The title of one of his columns was “The Hopelessness of Hope.” I can only recall the title, but I was impressed with the absolute certainty of what he wrote. Given the time and the point in my life, it must have fit in with so many erroneous preconceived notions I held at the time.

In those days, there was only one political party and it was pure Republican. I was one of its most devout. I believed there was no excuse for anyone not making it in this world. All they had to do was put their shoulder to the wheel, work hard and, “voila,” success was theirs to behold! After all, I came from poverty and I made it. But, I conveniently overlooked one very important point. I was the product of the G.I. Bill.

Without the G.I. Bill, when I was discharged from the United States Navy I would simply have returned to that from which I came. Life just isn’t that black and white. My Uncle Bug would have summed me up as being one of those people in life he would liked to have “bought for what he was worth and sold for what he thought he was worth.” There are a lot of those kinds walking around these days.

Uncle Bug was one of six kids who grew up in abandoned cavalry quarters known as Old Bedlam at Fort Laramie, Wyoming during the Great Depression. My Grandfather gave some of his kids nicknames. Early in his life, his youngest son, Clyde, was dubbed with the nickname “My Little Potato Bug.” The name stuck and everyone called him “Bug.” From the time I can remember, I knew him only as Uncle Bug, although later in life, he came to be known as my Uncle Clyde. Somehow, there was something much more endearing about “Uncle Bug,” and that is the way I want to remember him.

Uncle Bug had polio as a child and never fully regained the use of his right arm, so he would have to lift his right arm with his left hand in order to make use of it. It was old hat to him, so no one gave it much thought. He had a broad smile, a hearty laugh and his eyes were as blue as the Wyoming sky under which he was born. His optimism was boundless and equally infectious.

Uncle Bug married a woman who stuck by him through thick and thin. When his family came along, I was well on the way to my teens, so I often had the rare privilege of being his side-kick. He drove a black Willys automobile. I don’t recall that too many of them were made, but he just knew it was one of the best damned cars ever made. The interior was heavy with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke and dust. He would stop by and say, “C’mon Bob, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.” Off we would go to the Sideboard Café and I would grimace a bit at his teasing humor and revel in his native wisdom all over again. There must have been some miraculous potion in those cups of coffee, because I always felt better and was tinged with a bit of hope I didn’t have before.

At the time, I didn’t quite realize how tough life was for him and his family. Because of the crippling effects of polio and not having a formal education, his options for earning a decent living were limited. They weren’t just poor, they lived in abject poverty. However, Uncle Bug never allowed his lot in life to dampen his spirit. He gave the term “hope” a whole new meaning and it was contagious, believe me. I cannot even begin to recall how many times his hope took me out of my own poverty, if only for just a fleeting few moments. It was a tonic I badly needed and could not have lived without.

With the passage of time I moved away and rarely saw him. When I did, that same radiant smile and words to the effect that “things will definitely get better,” would ring in my ears. He died in his sixties and, with his passing, over the years I was blessed with a newfound sense of my own imperfections and a badly needed measure of humility.

I respect anyone’s right to believe whatever he chooses. There isn’t one religion that can be empirically proven. Ultimately, all take us back to the one certainty common to them all. They are all based on nothing more than a simple belief. That applies to atheists, as well. However, I have noticed, among those who never doubt their own system of beliefs, there is a certain contempt for those who do. At best, a whole slew of us are in for one heck of a surprise when we cross over the line from this mortal life to whatever lies beyond.

Today, and throughout the ages, hope is all that has sustained multitudes of people in despair. Without that simple belief, they would have nothing. And all of the well-intentioned true believers have no right to deprive anyone of hope.

I choose to believe, when it appears all is lost, hope is God’s way of saying to us, “Hang in there. I am with you.” To that, Uncle Bug would have added, “and things will get better.”

I envision Uncle Bug as having gone up to the Pearly Gates and being greeted by his Maker with these words, “C’mon in Uncle Bug. I have a very special place for you.” And when Uncle Bug answered with “Why would I have a special place here or anywhere?” the response would have been “Because you never abandoned hope.”

When hope is all a person has, no one, not even the most well-intentioned zealots, have the right to deprive anyone of hope, no matter how faint the glimmer. It is the worst form of cruelty I can imagine, unmatched by any other.


Cowboy Bob
April 6, 2008

"A Healthy Dose of Skepticism"

As we proceed along the continuum of this election cycle, I have to ask myself, what are the spoils so coveted by some of the contestants running for the finish line? It occurs to me there is so much of what lies behind those ambitions that we really know little or nothing about. Who are the real power brokers and what do they have to gain or lose by the outcome?

When I reflect on the corruption and self-serving motives behind so much of what passes in the name of democracy, I find it all rather suspect. What is professed vs. what is realized never quite add up. I cannot even begin to comprehend the magnitude of the power in the hands of multi-national corporations and vast wealth; power that is devoid of any conscience or moral base. What are they really capable of and how far are they willing to go to eviscerate the common man in the pursuit of their glutinous appetite for more and more? Will they yield to the cry of the rank-and-file to clean up the Washington establishment, or will they do all they can to ensure things remain the same for their own benefit?

In my humble opinion, the last seven plus years have been the most perilous and dangerous in the history of this country. The powers usurped by the Executive Branch, aided and abetted by a pathetically compliant Congress and a stacked Judiciary, are nothing short of frightening.

Historically, dictatorships rise out of the embers of a pervasive fear among the body politic, with strong support from the military elite. They wrap their actions in a shroud of secrecy. They manipulate the press in order to further their own agenda. They ignore anything resembling constitutional constraints. They ride rough-shod over the civil liberties of the people. They use the institutions and resources of the state for their own personal ambitions. Does any of this have a familiar ring?

Dwight D. Eisenhower was correct in his admonition to remain suspect of the military-industrial complex. From my perspective, they pretty well do whatever they want, ignoring any meaningful oversight by the Congress and accountability to the electorate. I will not rest easy until they have lost their grip on the White House and it is purged of all vestigial remnants of empire.

Putting another Republican in the White House would amount to nothing more than an extension of the Bush/Cheney doctrine that could well endanger all that remains of our fragile democracy. Their fear tactics and lies have run their course. We cannot afford to take anymore chances. We need a change, but the right change.

Until the Republican Party restores some credibility to its principles, only the “true believers” and those reliving the golden age of Ronald Reagan will give them substance ---- past glories and old memories that have no relevance to the future.

I have serious reservations about the Clintons. If they are such good Democrats, why did Bill sign NAFTA into law? Why did he remove regulatory constraints from the financial institutions that led to the current sub-prime mortgage debacle and the precarious health of Wall Street? Why are they reputed to be major investors in companies based in India that are the beneficiaries of outsourcing jobs from the United States? Why is lying still an accepted part of their strategy for winning? When it comes to what this country needs as opposed to what they will give us is not clear. Their rhetoric does not jibe with their politics.

Why do they covet the presidency to the extent they do? Whose interests will they serve if they get elected? Why did some 30 senior retired military officers line up to endorse Hillary for President, and what kind of influence are they peddling or seeking? Are the Clintons and their surrogates really willing to destroy the Democratic Party in their pathological pursuit of ambition? Being the first woman president hardly seems to justify the shenanigans they have so far employed. And I fear the worst is yet to come.

I don’t trust either of the two major political parties to do squat for the average American. They have held an exclusive grip on Washington for much too long. Their real motives are suspect. We need to salvage the best from both parties, reconstitute them into a solid third party alternative, and get down to the real business of running an open and honest country for the benefit of everyone. We need a complete overhaul of our political system. The incumbents have been entrenched for too long and have put their own interests ahead of the electorate. That has simply got to change. Ralph Nader has long championed breaking the stranglehold on Washington. Sadly, he is old hat and is not taken seriously any more. We must look elsewhere for national leadership. We just don’t need another herd of politicians. We need real statesmen.

Our religious institutions need to clean up their act. They should get back to ministering to our spiritual, moral and ethical needs. They need to get out of the business of amassing great wealth and political power. It is wholly inappropriate. My Grandfather once told me, “If a man waves a Bible in your face, keep your back to the wall.” That seems like pretty good advice to me. These ecclesiastical charlatans serve no useful purpose and are thwarting our ability to effectively govern.

We need to cease being a collection of individual vested self-interests, all jockeying for our own power base, and return to being one people. Let’s get back to basics and accepted standards of what is right and what is wrong. Let’s stop all this crap politely referred to as “political correctness” that is diverting us from the real issues facing the Republic.

We are a nation of laws. Let’s abide by those that are relevant and work to change those that are not, all within the framework of our constitutional form of government. We need to take those laws at face value and stop trying to manipulate the language and intent in order to further the interests of a few at the expense of the many.

I am not at all sympathetic to the bleeding hearts that connive to siphon off resources for those who have not legally obtained the right to share in the fruits of this nation‘s bounty. I am sympathetic to their plight, but they haven’t earned the right to what they haven’t helped create. We are one people all governed by one system of laws. Those who subvert them should pay the price. There is a right way and a wrong way to seek redress. None can have it both ways.

By definition, globalization and free trade agreements level the playing field for all who labor. American workers are well on their way to enjoying the same wages and benefits, with the same standard of living, as their counterparts in third world countries bound by those same agreements. The so-called benefits of these agreements accrue to the benefit of corporate investors and the super rich; not the average person. It is just another way of fleecing the least among us. All of those euphemistic benefits translate into what is generally regarded as a two-class society.

This country is not just economically bankrupt. It is intellectually, spiritually and morally bankrupt, as well. It is way past the time to take the gadgets out of our ears and stop being mesmerized by all of the electronics that numb our brains and isolate us from each other.

We live in perilous times and we have cause to fear the ominous forerunners of what is yet to come. We need to acquire a healthy mistrust of government and political power that serves special interests at the expense of the common man. The foundation of a viable democracy is an informed citizenry; not passive participation served up to us by diversions that have no lasting value for the human race.

I fear our universities and colleges are evolving into hi-tech trade schools at the expense of their traditional roles as seats of intellectual development. It is in intellectual ferment that real human progress and understanding are rooted. Science and technology have never been more important nor have we ever been more dependent on scientific discovery to save us from ourselves. On the other hand, hi-tech toys only serve to seduce us, not enrich us.

Great fortunes have been made, and continue to be made, by the “technological revolution.” But those fortunes cannot come at the expense of liberal arts, the pursuit of knowledge and the wisdom of the ages. The acquisition of knowledge is an arduous process. It is hard work, but it is well worth the effort and the insights that come with it. The political establishment must support those pursuits, accept the challenges that flow from them and not fear them. Such is the nature of real leadership. Therein lies the essence of statesmanship. Let’s just hope some one or a few can rise to the occasion this time around.


Cowboy Bob
April 4, 2008

"Four Thousand and Still Counting"

The news just broke that the total casualties for the Iraq War has reached 4,000 brave men and women. Those statistics will bring us to 4,000 coffins our illustrious “Coward in Chief” deemed we, the people of the United States, should not see as they arrived at Dover Air Force Base. Not that he gave a damn as to what we wanted or would think. Rather, it was to insulate himself from any public responsibility for the atrocities he and his cohorts were committing. Those are 4,000 whose funerals and graves will never be visited by our “Coward in Chief” or any of his "neocon" zealots who conspired to sell us a war based on a pack of lies. They are the same privileged elite (our own homegrown "axis of evil") who have insulated themselves from ever having to sacrifice one of their own in the service of their country.

Following must be the recipe they used for conspiring to attempt to co-opt an entire nation into believing that, through some perverted, convoluted and sick logic, there was a lofty and noble basis for what they did and continue to do:

“Naturally the common people don’t want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. This is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship …. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.” --- Hermann Goring

May Almighty God have mercy on their poor, twisted and empty souls. None is worthy to stand in the presence of just one of those still serving.

As a footnote, I hold what should be an open and vigilant press responsible for allowing this travesty to have progressed beyond the halls of Congress with hardly a ripple. They knew better and did nothing. They were all too willing to remain blind and silent; the thousands of lives lost or destroyed be damned. And they call themselves journalists?

Cowboy Bob
March 23, 2008