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What They Thought August 15, 2004 R.A.
Hawkins Click here for columnist bios |
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R.A.
Hawkins I usually don’t share much of my personal life with my readers, but I had a rather interesting experience last week and I just have to do that California "share the experience" thing. Quite a few months ago, I helped a certain person open a Ninjutsu dojo only to have him completely muck it up. I’m not going to go into how he mucked it up, but I was impressed with his skills in that area. The way it worked out was pretty good in the long run, and I figured it would be worth the effort I put into it eventually. The dojo is now under the control of Konigun Ninjutsu headed by one Shidoshi Bryce Dallas. I was invited to one of the "Gatherings," as they call them, and jumped at the chance. The Gathering took place in Virginia at Hungry Mother State Park. I paid my dues and nominal enrollment fee, and signed up. There are a lot of arts that put on such camps, but they never go into the level of detail that this one did. Most of them are pretty lame, and the amount of training is minimal but the price isn’t. This was the exact opposite. The price was reasonable at about one fourth that of other camps, and with at least eight times the training. I drove all night, and arrived just about the time orientation was starting. Well, maybe a little later. It was a long drive. Before too long, I found myself face down in the dirt doing pushups with people less than half my age yelling at me to pick up the pace. I didn’t have to bother with lip syncing the count in Japanese while doing the pushups, but when the sit-ups and jumping jacks (or their version of them) started, I couldn’t get away with that any more. The training went on all day long, punctuated with meal which were quite good. The second morning I was awakened at about 5:00 or 6:00 AM, and the day started again. I was amused at my reaction the second day. I was actually suffering from a very negative internal dialogue. I was thinking that I could just get in my car and leave and nobody could stop me. I didn’t have to see these people ever again if I didn’t want to. I didn’t do that of course, and attacked the negative dialogue instead. I actually sucked it up staying until the second to last day. I had to get back to work and had many things left to do before going back to work. I actually hated leaving. Did I mention that the days went from about five or six in the morning until eleven at night or beyond? The skunks and raccoons wanted our food, so we had to watch it. Everyone got to pull an hour of guard duty along with a bunch of other sleepy people. I noticed I was in the presence of real conservatives who really have a thing for nature and all it has to offer. I could tell these people were conservatives because I didn’t see anyone getting tested and the results being given to someone else. Everyone was rewarded for what they accomplished. Slackers weren’t tolerated in any way. I got to see one or two get recalibrated, so to speak, and they were back with the program pretty fast. Now before all of you gasp over my associating with "assassins," I feel I need to educate those that don’t already know. I’ll call this the quick and speedy version I’m about to give you. There are three sects of Ninjutsu: There is a white sect, which is Shinto, and they keep to themselves. They will defend friends and family, etc. But if they see someone getting a pounding on the street, unless they know better, they will dismiss it as being Karma coming home to the recipient of the whooping. There is also a black sect which is the one most people think of when they hear the word Ninja. They are atheists and self-serving. They hire out for assassinations and the works. The red sect gets its very own paragraph. The red sect is Christian and cannot be hired out as assassins. They can be hired as bodyguards and for security work, or enter the military. They are also allowed to defend friends, family and self. They aren’t allowed to associate with, or be members of, cults. What did I get out of this seven-day vacation? I got a renewed sense of purpose, and having worked my keester off I also found I have a lot more energy. A new pair of words entered my vocabulary, which has been missing of late: "Yes, Sir." I also learned a lot of humility. Nothing does it better than some kid who is 30 years younger than you making you do things because they have authority. One can’t argue with this authority because you know they worked for it. It wasn’t given to them; it was earned. It was also wonderful to see kids and young adults who were deeply centered. One doesn’t see that very often. I also learned some very effective defense techniques which I will now have to perfect over the next year. Honor, integrity and duty are stressed continuously. I wasn’t treated at any time to a bunch of sniveling and whining, except for my own internal dialogue which I slapped down. All in all, it was a very rewarding experience which I intend to repeat. It is nice to be part of something that is eight hundred and fifty years old, and good. It was, and still is, an island of sanity in a world bereft of purpose and rational values. I was about fifty miles down the road and found a little tear in my eye as I reflected on my vacation. I highly recommend it. I did learn how to count in Japanese, by the way. But I got a lot more from the experience than just that, as you can see. R.A. Hawkins Web Site Contact Back to Top |
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Lady Liberty's "Their View" Contributors: R.A.
Hawkins Kerry
L. Marsala Jonathan
David Morris SARTRE |
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The whole Scott Peterson trial is revolting and disgusting within itself. How anyone could come across any more obdurately or detached from their spouse's death and that of their own child is enough to make one vomit vehemently. For me, what finally was the last straw of this mockery of justice was when Amber Frey began her testimony. Listening to her and those who are in support of her has me saying: Enough with this empty headed woman named Amber Frey! Ms. Frey is now giving her testimony. If I were her, I would be embarrassed over my inexcusable, nymphomaniac lifestyle. All I feel for people like Ms. Frey is absolute disgust. Who in their right mind goes out on a blind date to a bar, and then a of couple hours later winds up in bed screwing someone they've known for all of two hours? Evidently, people like Peterson and Frey do. Where is the self-respect? What happened to sensible intelligent decision-making skills? Here we have a woman, who has just met a guy on a blind date. After a little dinner and a little dancing, they go and have a little sex in a hotel room. Not only is this completely brainless for anyone woman, single or single with a child (Ms. Frey has a little girl she's supposed to be raising responsibly), but did she ever consider the guy she's having sex with could possibly by the guy who is a pathological liar and may have murdered his wife and son? Where are her brains? Why the lack of self worth, Ms. Frey? Do people flippantly go around having sex with strangers? (Isn't sex with strangers, just like prostitution? Ms. Frey was just paying her dinner bill wasn't she?) Was there no thought given to the possibility that she might have ended up alone with a mass murderer in a hotel room? How many unthinking people have received their "fifteen minutes of fame" on the next day's newscast - murdered due to a similar situation? They were no longer in one piece - part of them was in the dumpster, part buried in a shallow grave, part never found - think about it! Ms. Frey stated she felt that the relationship with Peterson was, within just a few days, moving from "just sex" to something "more serious." What happened to developing a relationship based on getting to know each other first before we play the horizontal mambo? Evidently, for a certain percentage of people out there, they begin with sex first and then perhaps decide to develop it into something a bit deeper. How does this make humans any different from animals? The horrible judgment of people like Ms. Frey only progresses. After her second date with Scott Peterson, she gave Peterson a car seat, the keys to her house, and asked him to pick up her daughter at day care. Okay, let's analyze this, and see if we can make any of this sound like someone who is capable of making good judgments. We have a single parent who meets a guy on a blind date. They eat; dance, and a couple hours later, have sex. They go on a second date, approximately a couple weeks later. On the second date, the guy - who appears to be a knight in shining armor - carries the single mom's 22 month-old daughter while they go on a hike. Somewhere during this time, the guy says something to the effect that he would raise the child as "his own." Well, who wouldn't get warm fuzzies over such a statement? Surely anyone could see in such a brief period of time that this meant more than just sex, and could make a sound judgment for themselves and a defenseless little child. Obviously, any person who has been in the physical presence of another for maybe 10-12 hours, and they state a desire to raise your child as their own, would prompt anyone to give that total stranger a car seat and the keys to their house - where you live, by yourself, with a young child. After all, if you feel an immediate trust for your young daughter to be alone with a complete stranger, this must justify it all. Are you following the stupidity of this mother? Where is child protective services? Would anyone who is a good parent, and in their right mind give "alone" time with their child to a complete stranger, let alone the keys to their house? Ms. Frey is far from being a struggling, poor victim here. She's a person who repeatedly lacks the ability to think. The use of hormones to guide oneself from relationship to relationship is deadly. People want to believe what they want to believe. Sure, Peterson is a liar, and a good one, but I'll never cry for Amber Frey. She needs to develop self-esteem and a brain, not only for her own self-preservation, but for that of her child. For the love of God, she's a single mother who's having sex with men she doesn't even know and thinking that the storybook fantasy of Cinderella or Snow White really exists. Honey, it doesn;t and it's time to wake up from dreamland! Keep your legs closed and build a relationship based on getting to know the other person first, and I mean getting to know their personality, their likes and dislikes. Character: it speaks volumes. Ms. Frey, you owe it to yourself, to other mindless singles out in the world, but most of all, you owe it to the child you've created and decided to be responsible for. Grow up! The pity party ain't happening, Ms. Frey. We haven't any reason to cry for you. You're an adult. The only shedding of tears I'll be doing is for your child if you don't get your life together. Kerry L. Marsala Web Site Contact Back to Top |
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You
know what’s not easy? Planning a wedding. I’m serious. This
is coming from a guy who writes about changing the world every week.
I honestly think that changing the world is easy compared to planning
a wedding. I came to this conclusion on a recent Thursday, when I set
out to capture that most elusive of gift certificates: The Marriage
License.
It all began when a girl I know told me I needed to contact the county clerk in the county where I was getting married. So I did what she told me and called up the clerk, and I said to the lady who picked up the phone, “When can I come in to get a marriage license?” “You can’t,” she told me. Oh. She went on, “You’ll have to get that from the town the bride lives in. We don’t do that here. Does the bride live in New Jersey?” “No, the bride lives in Pennsylvania,” I said. “Do you live in Pennsylvania?” “No, I’m moving to Pennsylvania. But I live in New Jersey.” “All right, you have two choices,” she said. “You can get your marriage license in the town you live in, or the town where you’re getting married.” So I got in touch with my fiancée, and we agreed it would be nicer—more romantic, you might say—to get the marriage license from the town where we were getting married. So I went ahead and gave that town a call. “Does the bride live here?” they asked me. “No, the bride lives in Pennsylvania,” I said. “Do you live in Pennsylvania?” “No, I live a few towns over.” “Well, state law says you’re supposed to get your marriage license from the town the bride lives in, unless the bride lives out of state. Then you get it from the town the groom lives in instead.” “What if the groom lives out of state, too?” “But you don’t live out of state. You live a few towns over.” “I know I do. Humor me here.” “If the bride lives out of state, and the groom lives out of state, then state law says you can get your marriage license from the town where you’re getting married.” “What if I’m moving to Pennsylvania?” “Is that where you’re living?” “No, I’m living a few towns over.” “Then that’s where you’ve got to get your license.” Click. Why was I getting married in New Jersey again? I was starting to forget. So anyway, I called up the town I live in and asked about getting a marriage license, and the lady who answered the phone said, “Let me transfer you to the Department of Bridal Statistics.” “Bridal Statistics?” I said. I didn’t like the sound of it. It sounds like an annual report on brides who get drunk or pregnant—who “become a statistic”—on their wedding night. “Vital Statistics,” she said. Whatever. I still didn’t like the sound of it. “Vital Statistics,” the Vital Statistician said. “Hi. I’d like to get a marriage license.” “Are you getting married in town, sir?” “No, I’m getting married a few towns over,” I replied. “Well, sir, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she said. “You’ll have to get your marriage license from the town where you’re getting married.” What was I, on Candid Camera now? I was starting to get annoyed at this point. But I kept my cool. And I told her, “Listen, I just got off the phone with the town where I’m getting married, and they told me I had to call the town where I live. So that’s what I did. I live here. And now you’re telling me I need to call the town where I’m getting married? This doesn’t make sense. State laws says I have to get my marriage license in the town where I live if I live in New Jersey and the bride lives elsewhere.” “Is that what state law says?” “Yes, that’s what state law says.” “Well, isn’t it true: You learn something new every day!” she said, laughing. I fake-laughed with her. “Well, sir,” she went on, “you and your bride will have to come in and fill out some forms. After that, there’s a three-day wait. You’ll need to make an appointment. What time are you free tomorrow?” “We’re not free at all,” I said. “My fiancée lives in Pennsylvania. She won’t be around. Can I make an appointment for Monday?” “No, sir. I’m just covering for the woman who normally does this stuff.” “When will she be back?” “Monday.” “And I can’t make a Monday appointment?” “Correct, sir. You’ll have to call first thing Monday morning. If you don’t get through at first, keep trying—she usually checks her messages before answering any calls.” Of course she does. Why wouldn’t she. “All right,” I said. “I’ll ask my fiancée to stay over on Sunday and skip work on Monday for a Monday appointment we don’t even have. Now, what will we need to bring with us to prove we’re in love?” “Four things,” she said, not skipping a beat. “One, a witness over the age of 18. Two, your social security cards. Three, your birth certificates. And four, valid photo IDs.” “Let me ask you something. What counts as ‘valid’? Because here’s the thing: My fiancée comes from New York and has a New York driver’s license. Last month, it was suspended because she switched to Pennsylvania auto insurance. As far as New York’s concerned, she’s driving without any insurance at all. So now she needs to get a Pennsylvania license, but she can’t until she gets married, because that’s the only way they’ll let her get one with her married name on it. So basically, she needs her new driver’s license in order to get a marriage license, and a marriage license in order to get her new driver’s license. This puts us in a bit of tight spot.” “Yes, sir, that’s quite a predicament.” And that’s where we left it. This was the best she could do. My fiancée and I decided to chance it and head over to Vital Statistics—without an appointment—on Monday morning. We arrived the same time as the lady who runs the place. Turns out she was the nicest bureaucrat I’ve ever met. The most helpful, too. She didn’t seem to mind the whole suspended license thing. So as you might imagine, everything went well. We signed the forms, etc., etc., and I came back three days later—the following Thursday—to pick up our wedding permission slip. In fact, by the time you read this, I’ll be married and off on my honeymoon. But I think I know now why it’s harder to plan a wedding than change the world. It’s because the world is finite. It’s going to end someday. True love is different. It lasts forever. It has to. There’s too much paperwork. Jonathan David Morris Web Site Contact Back to Top |
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"There is a limit at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue." - Edmund Burke A tolerant culture has long been acclaimed as a righteous society. While most social indoctrination is designed to foster this fanciful theme, few are willing to ask or examine if this is a desirable goal. A valid conclusion rests upon a correct definition of the nature of tolerance and how it applies to natural arrangements and relationships among different groups. Here are four options to consider:
Which do you accept as the logical and judicious meaning for tolerance? The chronological record suggests that history favors a world that conform to the first choice. Societies, races and cultures are different and seldom harmonious. Nevertheless, it has been a goal of social engineers to perfect human nature and renounce the reality of that nature. Enter the romantic, advocates that seek a playing field so level that everyone’s interests are advanced by way of respecting all beliefs and any practice. But do they have equal merit? The idealist claims unbound freedom is the answer - anything can go in a truly tolerant turmoil. Finally, the realist - the most defamed - offers the insight that self interest supersedes motives for contrived social equivalence. The interpretation you accept is crucial to properly understand the conflict and intentions of social crusaders. In a world that operates upon a foundation of distortion, it is easy for the ingenuous to believe the con that is the official doctrine: PEOPLE are EQUAL. If you are an imbecile, you will hold that the plight of the inferior is your responsibility. The solution to rectify cultural deficiency is to sacrifice your own dignity and merge your heritage by shedding those qualities that create lasting achievements. Dumbing down is not enough, accepting primitive ritual as coequal is required. If you resist this atonement adjustment, your ability to overcome that nasty hate factor will necessitate additional harsh persuasion. Your re-education program will feature a reorientation degree with a major in Tolerance. The institution for this advanced level of reprogramming might well be the tolerance.org. That’s an auspicious name for a Southern Poverty Law Center project designed to enlighten the masses about the detestables. You know them, for they are you... No less a figure than the dissimulator, Morris Dees, will instruct you on what hate is, and why you are unworthy unless you grant universal tolerance. Offered as a fringe benefit is a tracking list for hate groups, yet to graduate from the course - denial in inequality. Their standard holds that “All hate groups have beliefs or practices that attack or malign an entire class of people, typically for their immutable characteristics”. In the Dees classroom there is no place for definition No 3 - a disposition to allow freedom of choice and behavior. So is Dees a hero or a charlatan? You won’t examine his real record on the tolerance.org site.
It’s hard to see the Dees mindset as conforming to definition No 2 - willingness to recognize and respect the beliefs or practices of others; for there is no choice in his system of ‘TC’ Totalitarian Collectivism. Tolerance demands Fascism to ensue open-mindedness. So what’s left to define tolerance? No 4 - a permissible difference; allowing freedom to move within limits - distinguish that differences exist and that accepting those variances recognizes that your allowance is essential. The boundaries for accepting others is based upon your desire to include them into your own community. Consequently, to achieve willful tolerance, discriminating choice is necessary. For some, definition No 1 - the power or capacity of an organism to tolerate unfavorable environmental conditions - will apply. Some may reject that option, but that disagreement does not abolish the right of those who avoid assimilation, while begrudgingly enduring coexisting. The Dees of this world want you to be consumed with a false guilt and an asinine self destructive surrender. Their version of tolerance is despotism disguised in a sugar coating that has a color of a clear black and white choice. It is entirely proper and moral to exclude those who are harmful, injurious or troublesome. Certainly no person who retains any degree of common sense needs the Tolerance Organization to assist in making that determination. A truly virtuous society distinguishes between forced integration and honest acceptance. Limits upon free association are no substitute for individual Liberty, and assuredly tolerance is no benefit when compelled. So which definition do you accept? If you follow Dees, you need not worry or ponder your decision - he will settle the matter. Surely you would not want to risk being lumped into one of those hate group tribes! Or maybe you would? SARTRE Web Site Contact Back to Top |
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©2004 by their respective authors. Reprinted by permission. |
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