How our prison policies look from abroad

Watch this video clip of Steven Fry talking about our U.S. prison system and how "we may have found a way to reinstitute slavery." This is a comedy bit from a mainstream TV show in Great Britain, but it is spot on. And watch how the panel finds it more and more difficult to find anything funny to say. At all.

Remembering Harmon Killebrew

Twins great Harmon Killebrew was one of the defining people of my childhood, my love of baseball, and my Minnesota Twins. I offer this memory in honor of his passing today.

1966. I am 10 years old and my Dad and I are on our way to a Twins game at the Met. My favorite games to go to are the evening double headers, called twi-night double headers.  

I love the black summer sky against the huge, blazing lights that ring the upper deck of the stadium. I love the insect dance around the lights, the color of the grass under fake night light, frosty malts, Harmon Killebrew, Tony Oliva, Bob Allison, Rod Carew, and the dream of catching a pop fly with my mitt. I love the organ and the seventh inning stretch and the cracking sound of wood meeting rawhide. I love looking through the binoculars and watching pitchers spit chewing tobacco. I love watching bat boys at the dug out, wondering how anyone could be so lucky to have such a job. I am a die-hard fan.

 

My mom makes me wear a dress to the game, which I hate. She means well, but does not support my tomboy tendencies as they are to her, unladylike. But I am indeed a tomboy and serious about catching a fly ball. I am a girl in a boys world. I want to fit in, to wear my jeans, Converse All Stars, Twins t-shirt and ball cap. The dress is messing with my groove, and possibly my catching abilities. But I do as I am told, wear the dress, and keep my well worn, well oiled mitt on my right hand, lefty that I am, and hope for the best. 

I do not get bored, ever, even deep into the second game. I yell loudly for my team. Sometimes the guys in the stands turn around to see who is doing all that screaming. My Dad always says people give him dirty looks, thinking he's keeping this poor kid up way too late at night, making me sit through two games. Truth is, I am the one making him sit through the games. I am the biggest Twins fan in the family. That my Dad takes me to see eighteen innings of baseball is my surest sign he really loves me.    

The second game is the magic game for me. The deep night of summer, the lights, the endless feeling of it all. And then there's this, what we all are waiting for: Harmon Killebrew up to bat, two out, players on first and third, bottom of the eighth. The mighty Killebrew takes a hard swing and crack, the ball flies up and in a long, slow arch, begins its descent out over the backfield fence and into the dark night. The fans go wild, and we cheer the runners home. One, two, three. Revelry, wonder. My own field of dreams. 

I still have the mitt.

Thanks for the memories, Harmon Killebrew.

First Lady Michelle Obama gets down!

I love this so much! First Lady Michelle Obama getting down with a bunch of D.C. middle schoolers. Watch her do the Dougie AND the Running Man!

Flap over Obama's birth is rooted in racism

President Barack Hussein Obama, our all-American president

In case you have been asleep for the last couple of years, a whole bunch of right wing wing-nuts keep working hard to spread a lie: That our president, Barack Hussein Obama, was not born here and is Muslim*. Conspiracy theories about the alleged cover-up of this so called "truth" abound. Just do a little Google search and see for yourself. There is even a name for them: "birthers."


It's nothing but a bunch of racist crap.


It's because he's African American, his father is Kenyan, and his name is not Tom, Dick, or even Hillary. Right wing conservatives and racist people of every stripe are terrified of a Black man in power, a Black man as President of the United States. 


Today the White House released President Obama's official birth certificate to try to put an end to this nonsense. It's the "long form" that is not released when anyone in Hawaii asks for an official copy. It's the sealed one, kept in a vault. The official copy Obama already released, the kind that all Hawaiians get was apparently not enough to stop the "birthers" and their lunatic idiocy. 

The "long form" birth certificate, just released

The normal official birth certificate that all Hawaiians get.

My guess is that even releasing the sealed birth certificate and the briefing Obama plans to hold on the topic today won't stop the conspiracy theories, the fear, the paranoia, anti-Muslim hatred, the racism. 


And that makes me sick.

*And what if he was Muslim? There are no restrictions on religion and eligibility to be president.


The amazing Baratunde Thurston speaks with rage and sadness about this issue:


Goldie Taylor, in a guest op-ed on Rachel Maddow breaks it down in a big way. "...This was constructed to de-legitimize the presidency of a black man..."



~~~


Update: President Obama speaks to this issue with class and grace in his briefing on this matter. I love my president. I wonder what he does with his rage...



March 30: President Obama skews Trump, releases birth video and more at White House Correspondence Dinner. Take that, crazies. Bam! I love my President.

All American Family

Recently I was thinking about the composition of my extended family and it goes something like this:

European American, African American, Mexican American, Moroccan/Arab American, French, Costa Rican American, Paraguayan American and Puerto Rican; 

Christian, Muslim, Mormon, Buddhist, Agnostic; 

Straight, queer; 

Differently abled; 

Birthed, adopted, step; 

Married, divorced, partnered, blended, single; 

Born in U.S., immigrant; 

Professionals, trades, artists, laborers, students, unemployed; 

Veterans, currently serving, pacifist; 

Democrat, Republican, Independent; 

One years old to 81 years old.

Like I said, an all American family. Don’t even try to define us in any other way.

Image: The Flag Story Quilt, Faith Ringgold, 1985

Image: The Flag is Bleeding, by Faith Ringgold, 1967