Sodom and Gomorrah Were Small Towns, Too
It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys of London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.
Sherlock Holmes
The other day on The Daily Show, Jon Stewart ran a hysterically funny clip. It was a rapid montage of speakers at the Republican convention, all saying the same thing, over and over. Their message was this:
To be a true American, you must come from a "small town," and have "small-town values." Small-town values were even extolled by Rudy Giuliani, the former mayor of the most diverse city in the world. He chided critics of Sarah Palin for saying that she wasn't "cosmopolitan enough."
This, coming from a guy who married his sister, or his niece, or somebody, who told one of his wives that he was divorcing her while holding a press conference, and who moved in with a gay couple when the abovementioned wife kicked his ass out of Gracie Mansion.
Was Rudy's behavior an example of "small-town values"? Rudi, seek professional help--now! There is a large segment of the American population who live in these small towns, and they feel intellectually inferior, and financially inferior, and physically inferior, to those who live in cities.
People who live in cities, according to them, are smart, they are rich, they are buff. (Of course, this is not true.) They only way these folks can hold their heads up is if they convince themselves that they are morally superior to the heathens who live in places like Brooklyn and Newark.
But they're not. We're all the same. I know that for a fact. I grew up in Brooklyn, but lived for many years in upstate New York, which is just about the most rural, most "small town" place you can get in this country. And you know what? There was more BS going on up there--more drugs, more teen pregnancies, more sordid affairs, more down-low activity--than I ever heard about on the streets of New York.
But the people up there were different from the people down here. Unlike us, they had Family Values! (And they also loved guns, something I cannot relate to.) Sarah Palin's teenage daughter is pregnant, and I couldn't care less--I wish the kid the best--but can you imagine what these "small-town values" people would say if Barack Obama had chosen a 44-year-old black woman to be his running mate, and then it was revealed this woman had a pregnant, teenage daughter?
"I'm sorry!" they would say. "I can't vote for that ticket. They just don't represent our way of life, our belief system, our Christian values!"
I hope the day will come when we realize that they just don't do the nasty in Bushwick. They do it in small, sleepy towns up in Alaska, too. Then maybe we can become one nation.
They're As Bad As Pedophiles
I wake up very early. Every morning I tramp into the kitchen, make a cup of coffee, sit down, and try to get my head together. My cell phone is on the kitchen table next to me. It never rings at 3 a.m. But today it did. It was a friend of mine, a fine lady who lives in California. Believe me: She is one of the finest people in the world, a true lady, a great woman.
The reason she was calling was because she was several months behind in her rent, and she was being threatened with eviction. If she didn't come up with a certain amount of money by the end of the month, she would be thrown out in the street, along with her two young sons, ages 5 and 2.
In California, they don't screw around. Don't pay the rent? You're out on your ass! She asked me to help her out, and I did. It was the least I could do as a friend. I've been down that road myself, several times. I knew how she felt. I, too, have had that knot in my stomach, when I went to someone to borrow money. It's humiliating. It's debasing. It sucks.
I would never say this to my friend, because I would not want to cause her any more pain than she already has. But as I wrote out the check, I thought: Where the fuck are the fathers of these kids? My friend has two children by two different men. I don't know the details. She once mentioned that her childrens' fathers were "no longer in the picture," that they "followed a different drum."
A different drum?
As my friend spoke to me, in tears, I could hear her little boys in the background. They are very young. But they heard. They will remember. They will remember the night Mommy had to call people up, and beg for money. And where was Daddy? Where was Daddy?
We make pedophiles register with the government. You can go online, and find out if a sexual pervert lives in your neighborhood. That is all well and good. Pedophiles abuse a child's body. Deadbeat Dads--those who have children, then abandon them, leaving Mommy to beg for money from friends--destroy their own child's soul.
Who is worse? Pedophiles do hard time. Deadbead Dads, if they're caught, have their wages garnished. They both do horrible harm. But in the long run, who hurts more? Who is more evil? The wild-eyed, deranged pervert, or the nice guy who spills his seed, then walks away from his responsibilities, leaving his children to wonder why Mommy is on the phone at 3 a.m., crying?
Marry in Haste, Repent In Leisure
No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people.
Attributed to H.L. Mencken
When you were a teenager, did you ever just instantly, immediately, fall in love with someone? I did, several times. And I'll bet you did, too.
That's what teenagers do. But if they are lucky, teenagers grow up to be adults, and they learn the folly of their ways. Puppy love has nothing to do with the real thing. Grown-ups know that, because they've learned it, the hard way. Just because a girl has a big chest, it doesn't mean she has a big heart. Just because a guy has beautiful eyes, it doesn't mean he has a beautiful soul.
Many citizens of this great country of ours don't seem to get that, even though they are way past their teenage years. Like the bobby-soxers screaming for Frank Sinatra, or the saddle-shoed 1950's girls drooling over Elvis, or the beehive-haired, white-lipsticked "mod" girls of 1964 getting their knickers in a twist over The Beatles, many today have succumbed to what can only be called "Sarahmania."
Who, exactly, is this Sarah Palin? I have no idea, and neither do you, and neither does John McCain. It was reported that he met her once before he asked her to be his Vice President. I always liked McCain, but when I heard that, red flags went up in my head. What the hell was he thinking? Well, now I know what he was thinking, and so do you. He was going to steal some of the Hillary voters.
He was going to appeal to all those "soccer moms" (no, wait, now they're called "hockey moms") who do not like, and feel intimidated by, women who do not walk in lockstep with them--like the spouse of a certain Presidential candidate. Sarah Palin's message is that she represents America's "small-town values," and that resonates with so many in this country.
So many in this country extol our wonderful "small-town values." But let me tell you something. I lived in a "small town," a very small town, for many years, and their "values" are no different from any "values" you would find on Flatbush Avenue. Need proof? Sarah Palin's daughter, this teenager who was raised with all these "small-town values," finds herself pregnant.
Hmm. I judge not, lest I be judged. But I do resent Ms. Palin's subliminal message to all of us who live in urban areas: We are morally superior to you. Look in the mirror, baby! In the end, this election will turn on one thing: Voter turnout. If you believe in the future, then get your backside down to that polling place on Election Day, especially if you are a young person.
It's easy. It takes five minutes. Do you want this woman being hearbeat away from the Presidency? I'm sure she is a very fine lady, and all that, but I don't. I don't like a woman who poses over a picture of a dead moose she shot, blood dripping out of its head, with her little daughter at her side, staring at the gore. Maybe I'm too urban, and I don't understand the "beauty of the kill," but--Blecch!
Give the moose a gun, and let him go mano-a-mano with Sarah. Then I might respect her!
