Party Time

My name is Sir Bacon.

And I am a Republican.

Well, registered Republican.

It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

Even though I rarely seem to vote that way.

Obama.

Voted for him.

Kerry.

Voted for him.

Clinton.

Voted for him.

And I would vote for her too.

“So exactly what part of Republican are you?”

Good question.

Deep down, I think I believe in the principles of the Republican Party.

You know.

What’s mine is mine.

And what’s yours is mine.

But when it comes time to hang my chad, I just can’t pull the trigger.

And if you can’t pull a trigger, you are not a true Republican.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t play one on TV.

You see the Republican Caucus recently came to my town.

Specifically an elementary school right around the corner from my house.

The invitation was taped on my door.

It came from Ron and Steve.

And they shared the same last name.

I’m assuming they were brothers.

After all, they are Republican.

The invite said that the festivities would start at 7pm.

Sharp.

Which they did.

Unfortunately I didn’t arrive until closer to 7:20.

And by the time I got there, all of the Presidential talk was done.

I’m sure it went something like this.

I love Newt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s name.

Ron Paul has two names.

Let’s vote Santorum.

With that out of the way, we moved onto the other items on the menu.

Like... Who Wants to Be a Delegate?

Our version of... Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

Only this room was filled with Republicans.

So everyone there was already a millionaire.

There were a total of 52 people in the room.

42 Men.

10 Women.

1 Asian.

The others were as white as they come.

In fact, the room was so white, there was even a couple there named White.

Now I’m not sure if the fact that 51 of the 52 in our group were caucasian is more of a sign of it being a Republican Caucus.

Or the neighborhood I live in.

But either way, I fit right in.

As long as I didn’t mention that I was Jewish.

The first step to picking our delegates was listening to a 30-second pitch from each of the dozen candidates.

Each candidate came prepared.

With a pre-prepared zinger.

“I want to fumigate the White House.”

“This is our country and we need to take it back.”

“I believe in the Constitution.”

“I used to live in Upstate New York.  That’s when I was a Democrat.”

“I was raised in Springfield, Illinois and I learned a lot from Abraham Lincoln.”

You mean the guy who freed the slaves.

Are you sure you are in the right place?

One of the speakers claimed to be an author.

He said he sold his books at gun shows.

And Tea Party rallies.

He didn’t look familiar to me.

After we voted in our delegates, it was time to propose some resolutions.

We were told that any passed resolutions would go directly from our dry erase board to our local Republican party.

Then to the state Republicans.

Followed by the federal Republicans.

And if any of our resolutions make it all the way to the Dems.

Then they would go straight to the shredder.

But it’s not about the end result.

It’s about the process.

“This is how you can have a voice in the party,” we were told.

“This is what the Republican platform comes from.”

And the whole time I thought it came from Fox News Channel.

From our room, there were three resolutions proposed.

One opposed “all forms of gun control.”

One wanted us to “repeal ObamaCare.”

And one said poor people should pay higher taxes.

Ok, I made that one up.

But it could've happened.

According to our master of ceremonies, all three resolutions passed.

“With very few no votes.”

I guess I qualify as very few.

The meeting lasted all of 68 minutes.

And despite what you’ve been reading for the last 664 words, I really did enjoy myself.

I’m not sure that I am any more Republican now than I was before the Caucus.

And I’m certainly not any more likely to vote Republican in the next election.

But it did feel good to spend an evening surrounded by people I have absolutely nothing in common with.

King for a Day

MLK day is a special day.

In the NBA.

MLK is not a special day.

Where I live.

I’m not talking about my house.

I’m talking about my city.

And no I don’t live in Arizona.

That’s a state.

I live in an area where Monday came.

And Monday went.

And nothing special happened.

I’m not really sure what was supposed to happen.

But nothing did.

At least nothing that put the special in this special day.

Thanks to google I did find a handful of events across the country which tried to pay tribute to Mr. King.

100,000 people came out for a march in San Antonio.

They were expecting 200,000.

82 people attended a rally in Thomson, Georgia.

83 if you count the speaker.

An ice rink in Cleveland offered free admission from Noon to 5.

I guess you had to pay full price the rest of the day.

While in Denver, the Martin Luther King Jr. African-American Rodeo of Champions came to town.

Whatever that is.

I’ve always considered myself a lover of history.

But I am far from a historian.

I was born in 1967.

So I missed all but one year of Martin Luther King’s life.

And unfortunately I don’t remember any of it.

But thanks to the internet, we can relive history.

Until SOPA kicks in.

If there is one moment that defines the life of Martin Luther King Jr., it has to be the speech.

The dream speech.

August 28, 1963.

On the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC.

According to Wikipedia, the crowd was estimated at 200,000.

I’m sure more than a million said they were there.

Like you, I’ve seen clips of the speech hundreds of times.

But I don’t recall the last time I watched it all.

From start to finish.

So a few minutes ago I changed that.

At least I tried to.

The first link I clicked on got me nowhere.

“This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by SME.”

Shame on you SME.

Whoever you are.

Thankfully youtube doesn’t play by the same rules.

Yet.

I expected the speech to be much longer.

But it wasn’t.

Just 16 minutes.

And 11 seconds.

King was introduced as “the moral leader of our nation.”

And throughout his speech he lived up to that billing.

Exceeded it.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Each sentence more meaningful than the one before.

Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline.

From his first word to his last, you couldn’t help but connect with the passion in his voice.

The power in his words.

We've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

And the dreams that he had for this country.

This world.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

It was truly poetry in motion.

The message just as timely today as it was on that day.

Especially with so many people in this great country still hurting.

And hoping.

The speech took on a life of its own when King was assassinated less than five years later.

Unfortunately we seem to live in a world where your stock goes way up after your body temp goes way down.

Morrison.  Joplin.  Hendrix.  Dean.  Clemente.

Cobain.  Winehouse.

And whoever is next.

The legend seems to grow well after the artist is gone.

Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if Mr. King was still with us.

I hate to think that Martin Luther King Jr. became special on April 4, 1968.

The day he left us.

If Mr. King saw us today, I’m not sure he would recognize the world we live in.

There’s no question that we have made great strides.

But I’m not sure we will ever get there.

I’m not even sure where there is.

But for at least one of our 365 days every year.

We can dream.

Monday Night Foot-In-The-Mouth

I’ve done plenty of stupid things in my life.

Most of them in college.

But somehow I survived.

Somehow.

I’ve said plenty of stupid things in my life as well.

Many of them on this here blog I’m sure.

Sometimes the words just come out of the mouth.

Before the brain can stop them.

I call it the -- Fire, Ready, Aim syndrome.

I could give you the billboard top 100 of my screw-ups.

But for today, lets jump straight to #1.

The undisputed champ.

It goes a little something like this.

A few years ago I got a surprise call from a former colleague.

A friend.

Out of the blue.

“Hey, it’s a voice from your past.”

Wow!

I said.

In my head.

Fondly recalling how much I enjoyed working with him.

But instead of saying...

“What a great surprise.”

Or...

“How are you?”

Or...

“How is the family?”

I went outside the box.

“How’s the hair?”

Yep.

“How’s the hair?”

Holy Dan Quayle Batman!

Before my brain could find the emergency shutoff switch, I somehow fit my entire size 11 directly into my mouth.

Somehow.

“How’s the hair?”

What the hell does that mean anyway?

My colleague, who probably once considered me a friend, said the only thing he could.

“What?”

And there it was.

My opening.

Now this is when someone with half a brain would crumple up paper in the phone and hit the disconnect button.

Or scream -- “I said, HOW ARE THINGS OVER THERE?”

Or “do you like your steak rare?”

Or anything that rhymes with “hair”.

Except the word HAIR.

But instead, I said it again.

“How’s the hair?”

Yikes.

After nearly an entire quarter-second of his fake -- nervous -- laughter.

I told him I always liked his hair.

PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!!

Believe it or not that was the last time we spoke.

It’s been about eight years now.

I have always looked forward to the day that I run into him.

In person.

I always wanted the opportunity to explain to him, face-to-face, what really happened.

It’s very simple.

Brain fart!

Period.

That’s it.

Nothing more.

Unfortunately I’ve never had that chance.

And who knows if I will.

I can’t do this apology in 140 characters.

Or less.

So tweeting is not an option.

Neither is texting.

Can you imagine his horror if he saw an email from me in his inbox.

Subject:  HAIR APOLOGY.

How ‘bout an old fashioned phone call?

Really?

Oh the damage I could do on that call.

Amazingly he did friend me on facebook a couple of years ago.

And I immediately accepted.

We exchanged some very basic greetings.

(I think I read mine out loud 1400 times before hitting send.)

Hey let’s face it, we are all capable of saying stupid things.

George W. made a career of it.

And he somehow got re-elected.

Somehow.

There are certainly no rules on who is capable of saying stupid things.

I’ve done it.

You’ve done it.

Jessica Simpson’s done it.

Anybody can join this club.

And today we welcome a new member.

Hank Williams Jr..

Oh Henry.


He must’ve had one too many before his interview with the Fox News Channel on Monday morning.

Or he is just plain stupid.

Coin flip.

Comparing President Obama to Rutherford B. Hayes.

Perhaps.

They both claim to have gone to Harvard Law School.

Comparing Obama to Larry Bird.

Perhaps.

They both did things no man of (their) color have done before.

But comparing Obama to Hitler.

On National TV.

Yes, that Hitler.

Is there another?

Really Junior?

That's almost too much for the Fox News Channel.

Almost.

There are at least six million reasons why Hank shouldn't have gone there.

And he still went there.


Actually what Hank Jr. said is not stupid.


It's a whole lot worse.


That's not an off the top of the head brain fart, "How's the Hair?"


What Hank said on Monday morning is exactly how he felt.


Which is the scariest thing of all.


Comparing OUR President, whether you like him or not.


To Adolf Hitler!

Are you ready for some backlash?

He better be.

Other than a high five or two at the Rick Perry Family Ranch, Hank took a hit in court of public opinion.

ESPN instantly removed Hank from the start of their Monday Night Football broadcast.

Something he’s been doing for 20 years.

But this is America.

And despite his despicable choice of words, Hank Williams Jr. will somehow live to sing another day.

Somehow.