PARTY TIME AT THE GALLOWS

As we rapidly approach the date of the Christian “Epiphany,” I cannot help but think that this past week, the modern world had had what should have been an epiphany of a very different kind. The Epiphany, which is celebrated on January 6^th, is supposed to be the day when Jesus was revealed as the Christ by the three Magi (wise men) and was baptized. But the word has come to mean any sudden flash of tremendous insight. And believe me, what was witnessed in Iraq involving a rope and a dictator should have been at least a wake up call, if not a full blown epiphany, to all who were paying attention.

Yes, we finally have seen the raison d’etre for the glorious Iraq War: our invasion has resulted in the death of a “berry, berry bad man,” as Seinfeld’s Babu might say. In truth, Saddam Hussein was worse than just “bad;” he was a butcher who slaughtered thousands and indulged himself and his sons in numerous sick ways. I wouldn’t compare him to Hitler, and indeed, he obviously served his purposes in keeping a Pandora’s Box tightly closed, but it is difficult to sympathize with him. He was a bully, a murderer, and a tyrant.

And yet … is it just me, or was there something sick about seeing the man executed, let alone executed in front of a cheering crowd?

Everyone seems to have a problem with the execution. The Administration didn’t like the “timing.” Some of my more conservative friends thought that it was too painless; they would have preferred torture instead, perhaps something Medieval. And then there are people like me who for some odd reason don’t care much for capital punishment. Somehow, we all seem to be gathering around the same position: what happened in Iraq was ugly. It was wrong.

I wonder if he want to learn from our collective reaction.

I appreciate that there exist more and more people calling for torture these days, but I’m confident that over the long haul, our society isn’t heading in that direction. Where, then, are we headed? To supporting capital punishment, but only in situations where we have been really, really deliberate about precisely the best time to kill? Or to opposing capital punishment under any circumstance – even when we’re dealing with a jailed former-tyrant? I’m getting the idea that this, or any other public execution is a reminder to many that maybe, just maybe, the anti-capital punishment crowd should be taken seriously. Viscerally, I think most of us look at such executions as ugly, horrible events, and we’ve been told countless times that they don’t deter crimes. Why then should we encourage our government to sponsor such things? If we’re not willing to choke a man to death, or give him a lethal injection, why should we countenance it when others do our dirty work for us?

Reflecting on the execution of Hussein, I’m reminded of the so-called “pro life” movement in the United States. They talk about how life is sacred – from womb to tomb. And yet most of these people don’t hesitate for a second to support capital punishment. They all but question the manhood of anyone who doesn’t. But why? What does that say about their commitment to the sanctity of life? Are they saying that only “innocent” life is truly sacred? Because if they are, I’d have to retort that who among us is truly innocent? Few people may be murderers, but many more are either rapists, crooks, perjurers, drug dealers, etc. Should we execute them too? And if not, why not?

Ultimately, these conservative “pro life” types appear not to be pro life at all. Rather, they are (a) pro fetal life, and (b) pro retribution. It’s a very different message, and I have to say that it is a whole lot less compelling than the consistent “pro life” position. Supposedly, the Catholic Church falls into that latter category, but from where I’m sitting, the Church goes crazy about fetal rights, but gives the capital punishment issue lip service at best. Frankly, precious few prominent people have spoken out passionately against capital punishment lately. Heck, few Democratic politicians seem to care enough about the sanctity of life to wax eloquent on this issue. Then again, they probably hadn’t witnessed a lot of public executions before cheering crowds.

Personally, I’d like to consider myself pro life. I’ve never cared for state-sanctioned executions. (That’s right, Bernard Shaw, I wouldn’t even kill the guy who hypothetically raped and murdered Kitty Dukakis.) Moreover, as a vegan, I extend my principles to not wishing, needlessly, to take animal life either. But as much as I am pro life, I am also pro choice. It is one thing to counsel people against abortions, or to educate people day and night about the need to protect themselves from unwanted pregnancy; it’s something else to turn those who are determined to abort into criminals who must face dangerous coat-hanger type procedures. That’s not pro life; that’s pro injury and possibly death (in that case, to the mother).

I really don’t know how many were educated by the horrors of seeing a jubilant public execution. But if anyone got the picture that the event was barbaric, then that bastard didn’t die in vain. I, for one, would like all state-sanctioned executions to be performed publicly and in front of cheering crowds. Let’s get all the raw emotion out on the table. Let’s smoke out our own sentiments. Let’s grapple once and for all with the question of whether we are really Pro Life or just Pro Hypocrisy.

[Note: You now should be able to make comments to this blog, though there will be a bit of a delay as to when they are posted, because I will be screening the comments. Feel free to disagree with me. Believe me, I’m only censoring the real trashy, ad hominem stuff that has no business being on the Internet. If you want to send me trash, send it in a private e-mail, and don’t mark it “anonymous.”]

HAPPY DAYS FOR DRUGGIES

Introductory Notes: (1) Bear with me a bit longer and I'll make this blog interactive again. (2) Warning with respect to this blog entry: heavy doses of sarcasm ahead.

So what’s your pleasure? Cigarettes? Heroin? Whichever it is, if you’re into drugs, these are halcyon times.

For those who enjoy a completely altered state of consciousness, say a prayer tonight for the Taliban. Thanks in part to our adventures in Iraq, the Taliban has been growing in strength lately in Afghanistan. And that’s great news for anyone who enjoys the wondrous fruits of the opium poppy. The good men of the Taliban are producing a record yield this year, the New York Times reports. In fact, Afghanistan – that shining example of an American-inspired democracy in the Muslim world – will be producing nearly 50% more opium this year than last year. Does that get you high or what!

The fact is that the 6,100 metric tons of opium that the Afghans will be harvesting this year should exceed global consumption by nearly a third. That’s fabulous news for any of us who enjoy shooting up in the arms or the ankles. Just think about it – supply goes way up, so price must … go down, right? Oh, I’m sure all this will stimulate demand too, and that could lessen the downward movement on price, but there will be more people to share our passion for the poppy, and that’s pretty cool, I’d say.

If you’re sending out thank you cards for the increased yield, don’t just stop with the Iraq War hawks and the Taliban. You might also send a word of thanks to the Afghan government and police officials who are supporting the increase in poppy cultivation by ignoring calls to crack down. Some people call them “corrupt,” but I’d rather say they’re opportunistic … no, let’s call them resourceful.

And if you’re worried that the good news will soon come to an end, don’t. The Afghan minister for counter-narcotics, Habibullah Quaderi, said that his government’s strategy to fight opium would start to yield results in, get this, three years. Now seriously, who among us thinks that far in advance?

I’m with Lou Reed:

When the smack begins to flow,
Then I really don’t care anymore
About all the jim-jims in this town
And everybody putting everybody else down
And all of the politicians makin’ crazy sounds
All the dead bodies piled up in mounds, yeah.

Great stuff, heroin. It inspires such wonderful art.

But I didn’t really want to talk too much about heroin. Here in America, most people who like a good buzz are too wimpy to put that spike through their veins. They’d rather just light up. And for you wimps, have no fear. You’ve got some excellent news coming your way, too.

Don’t you hate it when people nag you to quit smoking? I know I do. They’re always reminding you of the years you’re taking off your life, and all the health problems you’ll have, and how you’ve no right to impose all these huge health care costs on everyone else. Yada, yada, yada. Who gives a rat’s butt about any of that? I just enjoy a good smoke.

Well now, you can tell those ninnies to shut the heck up, ‘cause quitting smoking is getting too damned difficult. And you’ve got the facts to back it up. According to a study conducted by the Massachusetts Department of Public Health (a bunch of bureaucrats if ever there were any), from 1998 to 2004 the nicotine levels in cigarettes have increased by roughly 10 percent. Even the “light” cigarettes – the ones your wives smoke – are increasing in nicotine. And that means that it’s easier and easier to get hooked, and harder and harder to quit. Fine by me. Maybe they’ll just leave us alone now that it would be Herculean to stop even if we wanted to.

Someone actually asked the big tobacco companies if they were ramping up the nicotine on purpose. Well duh! The boys in suits wouldn’t comment. I wouldn’t have either. What a stupid question. The next thing you know, we’ll ask those boys whether they make money on purpose. The last time I checked, this is a capitalist country and cigarettes are legal. If you don’t like them, move to Russia.

Naturally, the liberals will be taking this news as another opportunity to regulate the tobacco industry. More red tape. More bureaucracy. More of a chance for losers who can’t make a living in the private sector to get that Government job and suck on the federal tit – as if our taxes weren’t high enough already. The liberals will talk about the “evil” men and women of the tobacco companies and how they need to be reigned in. They’ll call these law-abiding citizens greedy, even rapacious. Let’s be frank: it’s all about jealousy.

Tell me, do you know anyone who’s worked for a big tobacco company? I do. They’re normal people, just like the rest of us. They’re just trying to earn a living to help out their families. Their job is to sell as much of a legal product as they can, and if they do that job well, they’ll get rich. Very rich. That’s the way it should be. But that makes the “levelers” green with envy. Bureaucrats can’t deal with it when they see businessmen get rich. So they call for regulation. It’s sickening.

So next time you go to your country club and see a tobacco executive or one of their top lawyers, shake his hand and give him a nice broad smile. His success is an example of the American dream, and don’t let any social democrat tell you otherwise. If he wants to make cigarettes more potent, that’s his business. And that’s our pleasure. If anyone tries to take that away from you, just send a check to your local congressman or senator and tell him why you’re making a contribution. He’ll take good care of you, and you will have witnessed American-style democracy in action.

THIS YEAR IN SPORTS

Since I’ll be out of town next week and unable to blog, I’m taking an opportunity now to sum up the year that was. Hopefully, by the time I return, I’ll have figured out a way to allow people to comment on blog-posts again, though due to past misuse of the privilege, I will not be allowing anonymous postings.

In terms of sports – or at least professional sports -- there was clearly a central theme: in the immortal words of #7, Yogi Berra, it was déjà vu all over again.

The year began with football and the return to greatness of the Steel City. I have never in my lifetime witnessed a better football team than the Steeler teams of the 70s, winners of four Super Bowls. Those squads would have destroyed the Steeler team that beat Seattle for the most recent world championship, but Jerome Bettis and the boys at least reminded us of what a great football town Pittsburgh is.

Did you see the recent Super Bowl? It was held in Detroit, a good 300 miles away from Pittsburgh, and yet roughly 90% of the fans at the game were pulling for the Steelers. That tells you something about both (a) Steeler fanaticism, and (b) the fact that the people in the Pacific Northwest have better things to do with their time than obsess about professional sports. Perhaps there’s a reason why the last time a Seattle team won a Championship in a professional sport – and perhaps the only time – I was still in college. (Do you remember that Super Sonics team? It was led by a man named Jack Sikma who looked like Frankenstein except that Frankenstein was shorter.)

So thanks to 2006, the Pittsburghers have “one for the thumb,” the elusive goal they have whining about for a quarter of a century. Good for them. Pro football being the hotbed of parity, however, the Champs have returned in the fall of 2006 to define mediocre. That’s right, with two meaningless weeks left to go in the season, the Steelers are 7-7 and heading for a January of golfing, girlfriend beating and DWIs (or whatever else pro football players do in the off-season). As for the fans of Pittsburgh, since they don’t have an NBA franchise, they’re left rooting for a hockey team that’s as mediocre as the Steelers, and waiting for the next football season to start.

What? Do you think I forgot the Pirates? I didn’t; the fans of Pittsburgh did. From what I can tell, the same folks who bleed black and gold in the fall can barely name a single Pirate in the spring. “Let’s see, there’s Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell, Barry Bonds, Bobby Bonilla … and … well … since the team has sucked ever since, I’m really not interested.” It’s a strange attitude, considering that you can say many things about the weather in Pittsburgh, but “fair” isn’t one them.

After football, let’s turn next to professional basketball. In the NBA, a new city – Miami – got to celebrate a title, but the victory was truly a throwback. It was as if some Laker fan envisioned his favorite player and favorite coach coming together in another city and almost immediately making magic. Truly, with Pat Riley joining Shaq to win it for the Heat, the only thing missing was one of those great Laker guards – like Jerry West, Magic Johnson or Kobe Bryant. Dwyane Wade has no connection to the Lakers, but with him playing Batman to Shaq’s Robin, you couldn’t help remember the mid 80s, when Magic was carrying Kareem on his shoulders, but the Big Fella was always capable of throwing in a key bucket when you needed one.

It’s great to see that lethal inside-outside combo, much like it’s fun to watch a brilliant QB/WR tandem, or a wonderful line in ice hockey. What, did I say ice hockey? The hockey season was also reminiscent of the past – specifically, the time back in the 19^th century when nobody cared about professional hockey (mainly because professional hockey didn’t exist until 1904). That’s right, thanks to the recent hockey strike, nobody cares about it once again! Good job, players and owners. Way to stand up for principle over profit – at least I’m assuming there was a principle there, because that strike may come to nail you in the wallet for a long, long time.

Next, let’s turn to baseball. An argument can be made that this was a good year in baseball if for no other reason than that the Yankees didn’t win. But the fact is that the Yanks haven’t won a Title in years. In fact, the Yanks this decade are starting to resemble the Braves of the last decade; every year they make the playoffs and then, almost invariably, they figure out a way to crash and burn. Screw them and their payroll; they can’t lose enough for my taste.

As for the “déjà vu” aspect of the year, it was definitely the triumph of baseball’s second most successful organization: the St. Louis Cardinals. It has been a while since the redbirds have won it all, but the fans in this “small market” town have nevertheless supported them in droves. You can’t help but be happy for the “greatest baseball town in America” that their team is once again the World Champs. It’s too bad that they won after having had such a mediocre regular season; I’ve always thought that takes a bit away from the lasting joy of a Title.

Well there you have a look at what’s happened to the Big Four, but what about the more “minor” sports? It was a bad year for NASCAR because the GOP lost the midterm elections. There you have it – a summary of all that I know about auto racing. As for golf, this year was indeed a return to the past: (a) Mickelson choked in the U.S. Open, and then (b) Tiger decided that for the next several months, he’d win everything in sight, (c) except the Rider Cup.

Predictable. But no less predictable than the fact that Roger Federer would dominate the men’s tennis tour. OK, so he lost to Nadal in the one major championship that’s played on clay. That’s also the only major tournament in which Nadal – or anyone else in tennis – has a chance to beat Federer. Just as it seems inevitable that Tiger will break Nicklaus’ grand slam victory record, it seems equally inevitable that Federer will break Sampras’ analogous record in tennis. But here’s the rub: whereas the entire sports world seems to care about Tiger’s quest, hardly anyone cares about Federer’s.

The problem isn’t simply that Federer takes on the personality of his native Switzerland – efficient and boring. The problem is rather that men’s tennis as a sport hasn’t been on the map for years. Candidly, tennis was the only sport in which I lettered in high school, and yet I watch more professional poker than I watch professional tennis. Yes, I know – that says something about me (anyone willing to watch poker on TV is only one small step up the evolutionary chain from the folks who watch America’s Top Model or Project Runway) … but it also reflects the lack of interest generated by a sport that once had some of the most captivating heavyweight bouts this side of Manila. Borg-Connors, Connors-McEnroe, McEnroe-Borg, McEnroe-Lendl – heck, even Harold Solomon-Eddie Dibbs was more intriguing that the tennis played today. Do you want a solution? It’s really simple. Wooden rackets. That and brash personalities.

Speaking of brash personalities, they certainly are dominating the sports world at year’s end. On December 16^th, the NFL’s favorite narcissist, Terrell Owens, spit in the face of an Atlanta cornerback who had the temerity of trying to guard him. And that same night, the NBA’s leading scorer, Carmelo Anthony a/k/a “Melo,” didn’t exactly live up to his nickname. He watched as a fight between his Denver Nuggets and every basketball fan’s favorite whipping boys, the New York Knicks, was just dying down. And then, just to ensure that order wouldn’t be restored, “Melo” threw a punch to the face of some schmoe named Mardy Collins, knocking Collins to the ground – probably out of shock and indignation as much as pain.

Ah yes, a return to the hooliganism that so many of us missed, now that the best fights are relegated to Pay Per View. I guess now we have Ultimate Fighting and the opportunity to watch athletes try to elbow each other in the face. But since watching the UFC appears to be beneath the dignity of most upstanding sports fans, including your humble scribe, we’re left with lame one-punch knockdowns in New York and flying sputum in Atlanta.

Finally, let me close with what I thought was the most pathetic aspect of the sports year. That was the way the baseball gurus on TV discussed the candidacy of Mark McGuire for Pro Baseball’s Hall of Fame. It’s no secret that McGuire won’t make it in his first year of eligibility due to his steroid abuse. McGuire never admitted to using steroids, though he has not only been fingered by others but when he had a chance to clear his name in front of Congress, he repeatedly refused to answer the Representatives’ questions. Essentially, he pled the 5^th.

Given that information, I would have expected Tim Kurkjian and the other baseball “journalists” to blast McGuire’s candidacy for the Hall, but that’s the opposite of what happened. Kurkjian and his fellow talking heads showed up on TV saying that Cooperstown should welcome Big Mac with open arms. “They haven’t proved he did steroids,” I heard one say. He apparently was unaware that the plaintiff in non-criminal cases is entitled to adverse inferences whenever a defendant takes the 5^th.

If you want to know what’s going on here, I don’t think it’s stupidity, unfortunately. Sports “journalists” make their living by getting access to the players and coaches who star in each sport. That means that the journalists can’t afford to take positions that are particularly unpopular with the players – lest they end up getting scooped by everyone under the sun. Tragically, the fraternity of players seem to want to brush the scourge of steroids under the rug. I guess they’re too fearful of the consequences of speaking out against it – it’s easier to keep your mouth shut and “get along.” The result is that the journalists who feel the need to curry favor among the players are likely to vote the steroid abusers into Cooperstown, thereby debasing the currency in what had been one of sports’ most precious shrines.

As for me, I’ll still be hoping that someday, one of my childhood heroes, Tony Oliva, makes the Hall. Tony O had one of the sweetest swings in the history of baseball – at least as sweet as his more hyped teammates, Hall of Famers Harmon Killebrew and Rod Carew. But Tony O’s career didn’t last long enough to generate the gaudy lifetime stats needed to punch a ticket to Cooperstown. It seems that he had problems with his knees … and didn’t have “The Cream” or “The Clear” available to help his body recuperate. So now he goes down in history neither as a Hall of Famer nor as a cheater. In other words, he may not be venerated by today’s baseball fans, but at least he can live with himself. I’d take that choice any time over McGwire’s and Bonds’ sleazy alternative.

EMPATHIC RATIONALIST AWARDS

It’s time to dole out the first annual Empathic Rationalist Awards. These awards go to the people who have made 2006 what it is – for better and for worse.

Man of the Year: Barack Obama.

Or perhaps I should say: Barack Hussein Obama. This man promises to do to American politics what Eldrick Tiger Woods did for golf and Ervin Magic Johnson did for basketball. The man is a natural. He performs at the highest level of his game and he does it almost effortlessly. Bill Clinton had some of the same characteristics, but he also had the oversized flaws that made him almost suitable for Greek tragedy. B. Hussein Obama appears to be as solid as the Rock of Gibralter.

The satirists are trying to make fun of the guy, but they can’t. The best Jon Stewart can do is lampoon him as an icon and alleged miracle worker – a man who not only makes women swoon, but is also able to turn paper into metal. But that’s not really making fun of B. Hussein. It’s making fun of our hero-worshipping the guy before he’s really accomplished anything. Substantively, what can you say to criticize a man who (a) transcends race, (b) was called by Lawrence Tribe one of the best students he’s ever had at Harvard Law School, (c) always seems to tackle issues in the most positive, constructive way possible, (d) is progressive without taking on the baggage of the “knee-jerk” liberal, (e) not only talks about religion, but actually seems to be truly religious, and (f) is a born unifier, not a divider?

Lampoon him at your peril. Like Tiger and Magic, Hussein seems to be the real deal. And yes, all his middle name does is point out how racist this society is against Muslims, a characteristic that we had better lose if we hope ever again to win over the so-called “Arab street”.

Schmuck of the Year: Scott Howell

If any creature could successfully turn B. Hussein into an object of hatred, it’s Scott Howell. What, you’ve never heard of this creature? Why would you? It’s the type of animal who only comes out at night – when the people are asleep and the dogs are in their crates. But anyone who’s had a rodent problem know that such animals can make a big impact on your house. And Scott Howell very nearly made a HUGE impact on your country. In fact, if Senator Johnson doesn’t survive the bleeding in his brain, Howell might be singularly responsible for having tipped control of the Senate to the Republicans.

OK, I’ll stop dehumanizing the man. And yes, Scott Howell is the name of a human being. A very “successful” human being, if by success you are referring to the ability to acquire money and wield power. He’s a political consultant who is largely responsible for electing Senators Chambliss, Coleman and Thune. Moreover, he was the evil genius who masterminded the election of Bob Corker over Harold Ford. You remember that race: it turned on an advertisement in which a bare-shouldered blonde winked at Ford, a black man, and said “Harold, call me.” That message went over well to the target audience – racists from Tennessee – and, as a result, Ford lost his slight lead and Corker never looked back. In an election in which virtually every hotly contested Senate seat went Democratic, Corker was the one Republican candidate who survived.

Howell is a disciple of the late, and anything-but-great Lee Atwater. Howell’s firm is based in Dallas, a city known for its shopping malls, churches and titty-bars. He plies his trade on behalf of politicians who appeal to “family values,” and yet the central value that he brings to a campaign is the ability to assassinate the character of any opponent.

Congratulations, Mr. Howell. You earn the only award named after a body part – a very powerful body part.

Amnesiac of the Year: Harry Reid

You didn’t really think I was simply going to praise Democrats and criticize Republicans, did you? Empathic Rationalists are equal opportunity critics.

Harry Reid, the upcoming Senate Majority Leader, wins this award for his recent announcement that he’s willing to support an increase in U.S. troops in Iraq – as long as the “surge” is only for a limited amount of time. Art thou kidding? This is eerily reminiscent of when the President asked the Congress for a blank check to invade Iraq in the first place and the Democrats were more than willing to oblige. But then, the donkeys had a bit of an excuse. That was before (a) we all had graphic proof that the Iraqi people really don’t want us there and are prepared to kill, kill, kill until we leave, (b) even our own Generals were saying that ratcheting up our presence was a bad idea, and (c) the Democrats took over control over the Congress. So why, then, would Reid possibly want to add more targets to the shooting gallery?

Amnesia. That’s my only explanation.

The Jack Torrance Award: John McCain

This award goes to someone who is a nice likeable guy, but not someone you’d want to be trapped with for the winter at the Overlook Hotel. McCain gets the nod because it’s finally beginning to dawn on me (and others) that the dude is just a little trigger happy. Just a tad.

This is a guy who called Vietnam “a noble cause” – but you can forgive him for that line given his experiences there. In 1994, he suggested with respect to the North Koreans that we “bomb ‘em back to the Stone Age.” “I know what they understand,” he added, “and that is the threat of extinction.” In 1999, he wanted Clinton to flood Kosovo with ground troops – contrary to the views of the military. And now, once again, he wants a major increase of troops in Iraq; in fact, he’s the most prominent cheerleader for the policy of “when you’re in a hole, grab some friends and dig more furiously.”

Somehow, I’m beginning to sense a pattern.

I respect John McCain. Who doesn’t? But is this the guy this world needs with his finger on the red button? I would sincerely like to see him in the next Administration, Republican or Democrat, but I’d like him to stay the heck away from foreign policy. Let him be the Secretary of Transportation or Education or Labor. And if he keeps wanting to talk about war, we can send him to Gettysburg and have him join in one of those battle re-enactments. He can be doing the Rebel Yell during Pickett’s Charge.

The Mirror, Mirror Award: Dick Vitale

For those of you who aren’t Star Trek addicts, Mirror, Mirror was an episode in which Captain Kirk and a few fellow crewmen were transported into a parallel universe that looks an awful lot like ours except that the people are crazy. And not in a good way.

Perhaps it’s a bit unfair to place Vitale in with that crew. He seems benign enough. I’ve never heard him advocate gratuitous violence, for example, and he doesn’t seem to be crazed with power-lust. Still, when I’m watching him, I feel that if he belongs in this universe, then maybe I don’t.

Dickie V, as he’s affectionately known, is a former basketball coach turned talking-head. As football season fades away and roundball comes to dominate the American sports scene, Dickie becomes a fixture on ESPN. By March, he’s positively ubiquitous. The man is the Platonic form of the exuberant, narcissistic motor mouth. He never met hyperbole that he didn’t like. And while it’s one thing to hear him announce a game – he’ll exclaim “Awesome Baby” 15 times, and throw out almost as many references to “PTPs” (Prime Time Players) and “Diaper Dandies” (freshmen who don’t suck) -- what’s particularly surreal is listening to him do commentary about an event that transcends sports, such as when athletes become violent. Invariably, when I’m watching this guy run his lips I’m asking myself this question: Other than the fact that we both love moms, green grass, and blue skies, do we agree on anything?

In Vitale’s universe, Bob Knight – the very same right-wing icon who once brandished soiled toilet paper to show his players what they played like – would be the drug czar. Heck, he might even be named President. In Vitale’s universe, we’d probably walk into shopping malls and listen to motivational speeches pumped over the loudspeaker. Whatever this dude is selling, clearly a lot of people are buying – I just don’t happen to be one of them. If I had to choose the bearded Mr. Spock from the parallel universe or the bald and beautiful (if you don’t believe it, just ask him) Dick Vitale from this universe … I’d take the bearded Vulcan any time.

Entertainer of the Year: Dave Matthews

This award is clear cut. Here’s a guy who’s under the age of 40 and I actually like his music. That’s right. I say those words and yet can’t believe I just said them. But it’s true. And for that, he deserves some recognition.

It’s always nice when someone reminds you that you still have a pulse.

SOME FEELINGS RUN DEEP

The old saw advises us to “Think globally, and act locally,” yet that principle was never honored in my parents’ house. My dad was an introverted intellectual. To him, everything was global – in fact, once he built his telescope, even “global” seemed way too narrow for his focus.

I didn’t know there was such a thing as local politics until I was in high school and found a job interning for the Montgomery County Council. I lived then where I live now – in Bethesda, Maryland, roughly five miles from the Washington, D.C. line. Even as I worked for my county’s council, however, my father’s attitude brainwashed me into thinking that what went on in my own home town and home state was essentially trivial. The Middle East mattered. The Cold War mattered. National tax policies mattered. Local politics? Please – that’s only of interest to the small-minded parochial types, and I was a man of the world. Not a Marylander, but a Washingtonian.

It took me decades to change my outlook. But this fall, that finally happened. I actually gave a damn about local politics. I cared enough to walk into the ballot box during my state’s primary and cast a certain vote for Montgomery County Executive (our name for the CEO of the county government). I had never cared that much about the state government, and here I was, chomping at the bit to send a message about my county. Obviously, some issue had gotten under my skin.

The contest for County Executive pitted an African-American who rose from poverty to a County Council position, named Ike Leggett, against a man who sounds just like me – an Ashkenazi, Reform Jewish lawyer, Steven Silverman. The primary would clearly decide the election because in Montgomery County, men are Democrats, women are Democrats, and Republicans run scared. (Seriously, the smart Republicans know to move across the river to Virginia where they’re actually wanted.) When I picked up my ballot, I had a sneer on my face. I wanted Leggett to win, but I really, really wanted Silverman to lose. His campaign was more negative than Leggett’s, and that bothered me, yet what really ticked me off was that he took lots and lots of money from real estate developers. He was the enemy of all things green. Well, almost all things. Silverman raised $2.2 million to Leggett’s $830,000. How strange, then, that Leggett trounced my landsman by double digits.

I didn’t follow all of the local elections as closely as the Executive race, but I cared about others too. Walking into the polls that morning, I had one sheet of paper in my hands. It was a flyer my family received in the mail a couple of weeks earlier that identified which candidates took money from developers, and which ones did not. I voted straight up. Single issue, baby! To me, this was war – nature versus greed. Good versus evil. Up versus down. I hadn’t seen such a simple problem since first grade arithmetic.

I’ve never considered myself a stereotypical environmentalist. Nobody I know spends less time outdoors than I do. It’s sad but true. My vacation time is largely spent writing in front of a computer. And when I do go into nature, my ideal day would be spent studying a philosophy book and occasionally looking up to see what a beautiful place I have chosen to read in. But the fact that I haven’t incorporated nature into my lifestyle doesn’t mean I fail to acknowledge our debt to her. It also doesn’t mean I feel free to despoil her in the name of “economics” or “progress.” In fact, just as many of my fellow single-issue voters seem to care only about the defenseless, beautiful human fetus. I possess a visceral passion to protect the defenseless, beautiful natural world over which we have been given custodial responsibility. We’re sure making a mess of that responsibility, aren’t we? Seriously, it’s mid-December in Maryland and nearly every afternoon, the temperature has gotten into the 50s. Something here is awry.

A few years ago, my family had a membership in a local community swimming pool. In fact, we had been members for years. The pool owned a few acres of wooded land – one of the few such areas in Bethesda. One night, the pool “elders” convened an all-hands meeting and announced a proposal to sell some of the land to developers so that we could raise money for some of the pool’s basic needs. One of those ‘needs” was to build a gazebo. I stopped going to the pool right around then – in fact, we’re not even members now. The idea of a group that supported tree chopping simply left way too bitter a taste in my mouth.

Clearly, these feelings are running deep. They always do when you find yourself “single issue voting” and leaving organizations that you’ve supported for years. But I make no apologies for my views. Just as the virulent foe of abortion rights sees their issue in terms of “murder,” I see the above issue in stark terms as well. Who the hell are we as a species to “acquire” what nature has taken millions of years to perfect, only to pave and mine and drill right over it? If each of us needs to use up so many resources to satisfy our rapacious appetites, might we not either changing our lifestyles or at least reproducing a tad less often? Maybe you should look at my family as some sort of anti-procreative ideal. I have no brothers, no sisters, two children, and only one first cousin, who has no children of her own. I call that taking one for the team!