Mal Beck's Open Salon Blog

Mother Greens

Thu, 13 Jan 2011 13:01:45 -0500

Mother Greens

A shadow monster stepped out from the walls yesterday, all Frightful and fanged and unhinged like I ‘spected it always would. Oddly, calmly some say, spewing hot death in bits and bullets; Coolly visiting death’s breath upon unsuspecting dreamers.

In my youth, tucked under the top bun--where adventure soared. I wallowed in my fear, seeing the giant ants march in formation. Across the 4 x 6 universe above.

Shadow monsters. Ominously black, eerily silent, threatening gravity; and I held my breath waiting for them to drop like ninja assassins. Cried I did, but softly: just enough to maybe wake up momma but not so much as to resonate in the invaders’ ears, whining “Please don’t drop. . .don’t come down. . .”

I learned the lesson of lovin’ when momma would come with a faint whoosh, whispering air preceding her and causing those damn ants to scurry. Her faintest sound stronger than the mightiest of Formacideans. Oft as not, we’d wind up in the kitchen, shushing away my illusions like some feckless dust bunny in the corner. And heat up the day’s meal—cornbread and beans and greens, and, oh my, the fortifying ambrosia of pot liquor.

Yesterday, it came back as it always does, one giant, grinning skull in on the joke only he knew, only we knew wasn’t. And six didn’t wake up to their mommas’ touches or the light of the next dawn that had always sent them scrambling. Before.

I was cold. Snow, I said, and the goddamn wind. But it was more. In an instinct, I turned on the stove, heating the pan. Pointedly, resolutely tossing in the greens, torn leaf after torn leaf, inhaling the fresh metallic goodness—grass in the dead of winter. Icy water submerging the leaves, the stems, the veins, promising the liquor to come—but hours yet. The acrid pungency of malt vinegar, brining the water as it leaped hand-in-hand into the pot with the applewood-smoked bacon. There they brewed, collaborated, co-mingled, breathing their essence into my house of dreams and monsters. Pushing back the headwinds of doubt, of fear, of loathing.

The shadow monster won yesterday. But today, it’s no match for goodness, for greens borne of love and tradition. And let’s not forget the pot liquor.

A Modest Proposal

Wed, 13 Oct 2010 13:10:47 -0400

We're in trouble. . .and we have been for decades. The body politic no longer stands for the common man nor woman, and when it professes to be, we can be certain they're being like politicians--liars, cheats, and thieves. Even the best of them can't help themselves as they say what it takes to get elected and remain in office.

So, I have a proposal. It's not perfect. Some would say it's not reasonable. The first standard is impossible, but the second is attainable if enough temerity and effort is given to the effort. Nothing less than the very survival of our political system is at stake--what's left of a severely dismantled and disabled system that is on life support. Besides, we have nothing to lose. Can the current election process get much worse? Oh, sure, one could argue that elections in, say, Libya are much more tainted than ours. Sure they are, but their elections aren't held up to the world like freshly whitened laundry for all to admire the way we breathlessly advertise our own.

Get on with it, you say? Fine. Pay attention. We take the tainted money out of the hands of the wannabe politicians, who truly are gangbangers with a more illustrious address, and put it back into the hands of the taxpayers. What do I want to see for my tax money? I want a level playing field during elections. No more attempting (and succeeding in many cases) to buy the election with $120M of your own money; no more taking a dime of PAC funds from any group, corporation, or private citizen. You think that's an abrogation of rights? Then just what do you call sleaze money oozing from every pore of every lobbyist and special interest group in this country, fair play?! No, we play by new rules, and those rules come from us. . .and they aren't free.

Here are specifics. (Now, when I say "specifics," please realize that there is a lot of background work to be done. There's much haggling, wailing, haranguing, and gnashing of teeth to be had, and all that is to be expected.) First, we establish a commission to run the elections, as unscrupulous folks as we can find after a long vetting process. It would be an apolitical group as best as that can be had in this country. Second, we take a small portion of our income tax--$5 a person seems about right--and it goes into a specific operating fund strictly for elections. Some financial wonks can figure out how to invest the future monies to make the commission reasonably self-sustaining. Third, we take the monies from that pool of money to run the national elections, to actually pay for the campaigns.

Ah, but here's the rub--everyone gets the same amount of money relative to the office for which he or she is running. For example, if you're a Democrat angling to get the party nod for president, you get something like $5M. . .and so do your legitimate opponents. . .and so do Republicans and their opponents. . .and Independents. . .and? Senatorial races would get less money, say $3M (all figures are supposition at this conceptualization, but my point is equal money for every legit candidate--more on what makes someone "legit," momentarily), while House race candidates would get even less.

There is primary money such as suggested above, then there would be more cash coming a candidate's way once she or he got the actual nod, call it the Finals Payola or the November Score or whatever cute term the media would give it. For presidential types, perhaps each would get $25M or more, then the scale decreases for Senate and House races. In short, every candidate would have an equal take of money for each step of the process commensurate to his or her intended office, and no other money would be allowed, period. "Use it wisely" would be the mantra, and candidates would be free to spend the funds however they wished: do you spend half your reserves on one commercial for TV or do you opt to do a cheaper print campaign? The choices would be theirs.

Obviously, dealing with the legitimacy issue regarding candidates would be the most difficult part of this entire process. One idea that springs to mind is making the candidates acquire petition signatures (yes, I realize this would an area ripe for fraud, but how does that make it any different than what we have now?)--depending on the level of the race, a certain number of signatures would be required. Wouldn't it be great to sign a petition for an unknown who seems not to be a professional politician, and then to see this person wind up in the primary with the same pot of money as Joe Politico from the Moneybags dynasty? So, sure, ensuring we have genuine characters running for office would be tough but doable. Besides, the wackos we have in office right now are hardly the cream of the crop--they're the best of the worst in most cases.

That's it: simple, sturdy, though hardly foolproof, but the current system makes no sense at all. The relaxed standards of money-laundering currently in play--and let's make no mistake about it, powerful groups and individuals are using money to buy influence and doing so by using figurehead associations such as the Americans for Prosperity--are even more idiotic and have cut out the heart of American politics.

There is one other detail of the plan that would serve the voters well, too. Debates would be mandatory (the number and styles to be worked out), and for argument's sake, let's say presidential candidates would have to debate five times. No running from debates, or you get no money. While we're at it, the networks should air live interviews with each candidate, asking the same questions regarding specific policies: "Where do you stand on 'don't ask, don't tell?" or "How will you attack the country's deficit spending?" Once again, either you take part in the interviews or you forfeit your money.

We are no longer governed by our peers, not when the top five percent of our nation hold the majority of the money (thus, power and influence), and not when they are the ones running for office or the people funding those seeking political futures. It's beyond time for people of modest means and modest miens to have a real shot at representing us in Washington. It's time for a modest proposal.

Why I Know God* Doesn't Exist (that or he's* a dumbass)

Tue, 20 Jul 2010 15:07:20 -0400

There is no way I can adequately enumerate all the minor annoyances and major grievances I confront daily which convince me that God (*as currently worshipped, viewed, known by most of the major religions on this planet) doesn't exist. But. . .BUT, I will list a few. Feel free to add your own. Perhaps we could establish a compendium for publication by the Southern Baptist Convention. It could happen.

- Gnats and flies. Yeah, yeah, I know they play some role in the larger picture of nature, but they suck. . .sometimes literally. When I am pestered mowing the lawn, going for a run, on a long bike ride, taking out the garbage in my undies, or just trying to appear slightly sexy to the woman standing next to me on my deck as we swizzle some cheap ass white wine, those pests are living proof God has a nasty-ass-wicked sense of humor or he (*I'm going to use the masculine forms of pronouns and such to describe God because a) it's how I was taught, b) it's easier and less confusing to some--yes, someone may yell at me for not making God a she or it, but he or she can write his/her own blog, ok?) screwed the pooch. What's worse, I swear it's the same goddamned fly who follows me everywhere!

- Reality TV that starts with "The Real. . ." or indicates some number of children and/or family members in the title. I readily confess to enjoying the guilty pleasure of SURVIVOR and the rambling content of the mad dash around the world of THE AMAZING RACE. But, technically, these are game shows more than true reality TV. I want to see someone wine $1M or some other (to me) obscene amount of money by screwing (usually figuratively not literally, though that'd be worth sitting through commercials now wouldn't it?) the other contestants. I know people who watch the real housewives shows or Kim, Kate, Chloe, Canasta, Copper, and King Cobra Kardashian reality episodes, and I'm not one to judge. . .well, hell, I guess I do. I don't get it. Who cares what these people think? Who cares how they run their lives? Why do these people believe that because they're on TV, they have something important to say? My God would NEVER allow such stuff. Nope, he'd show reruns of CHEERS episodes ad nauseum.

- The NBA. It's made up of some of the most immature, childish, and petulant adults on earth. They get paid a vulgar amount of money to run back and forth, throw down a dunk, wave at someone while playing defense, dribble for three minutes until they get an open shot, and they wear the ugliest gangta tattoos when almost none of them has seen a day in a gang. Yet, they still feel entitled to even more money, respect, and adoration. No true god would invent basketball and let it go to hell like it has. Nope, he'd create the Wide World of English Teachers and have them do a write-off on worldwide TV.

- Why the hell do we need spiders? Oh, I know the easy answer is to catch flies, gnats, and other pests. See above. What kind of off-kilter omnipotent brain does it take to not realize that spiders will actually bite people? And they're damn webs feel icky to boot. The same stupidity can be cited for creating wasps (bees get a free ride thanks to their honey). Geezus, what do they do worthwhile? I'll tell you what they do: sting me at the slightest provocation, such as walking by their damn nest. Now, if God had created giant wasps to come down from flying saucers the size of Delware to sting Tea Partyers, then take them away to feed their population of nesting alien queen wasps, I'd change my opinion of God.

- Fat free foods. I mean, c'mon! Have you ever tried fat-free mayo? Oh dear god, it sucks. Same goes for fat-free sour cream, fat-free cheese, fat-free cheesecake, hell, fat-free anything (caveat: that's supposed to be fatty). Fat-free is a euphemism for abomination. If God truly were smart, you think he could've come up with something a little better than making us ecstatic over a croissant slathered in brie (or camembert for you hoity-toitiers) while, meanwhile, ensuring our hearts' days are numbered for indulging.

- Hell. What a stupid, mean-spirited, dirty little mind trick that has been foisted upon us by generations of so-called spiritual leaders. Oh, there is hell alright, but it's the condition of the planet; it's the squalor that billions of people live in worldwide; it's the ruthlessness of big corporations controlling our politics; it's the blind imams, rabbis, ministers, and priests who take us lemming-like over the cliff of superstitions and nonsensical guidance from "above." No God who claims to be the Father would create a place for people to spend eternity suffering--it's such an unfathomable idea, and it angers me to see people blindly swallow such pabulum, forced down their throats by men and women of the cloth. If God is so angry with some of us most suffer eternal damnation, then he isn't a fit parent. . .and certainly not worthy of praise nor adoration.

- Rush Limbaugh. 'Nuff said.

Obama's First Year--An Open Letter

Thu, 21 Jan 2010 12:01:42 -0500

Dear Mr. President~

I unabashedly voted for you. I teared up watching the hope spilling into the streets the night of your election victory, the tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of people thronging the Mall in D.C., celebrating the end to a nefarious reign of a hateful, spiteful, and fear-mongering administration. I felt a sense of relief, as if I had just exhaled for the first time in nearly a decade. Rampant optimism stormed the largest cities and the smallest towns while everyone who commanded an audience proclaimed that finally we had a president about whom we could be proud.

It's a year later, Mr. President. The hope has turned to disapointment, the relief to resignation. Worst of all, the cynicism that so many of us had purged that glorious night has returned, infecting us once again like a bad case of the crud we just can't seem to shake. That shining night--was it a dream?--has long given way to the stark glare of the political daylight. And once more we have an Administration which stands for nothing.

Yes, sir, you are a step up from the last president, but one could hardly do worse. You had the big mo, Mr. President, as in momentum. You had a large number of people behind you who had tired of the cycle of hate, fear, and distrust brewed by the Republican administration prior to yours. True enough, I'm not ashamed to call you Mr. President as I was when Bush was in office. But, that is where my praise ends.

Mr. President, why are we still in Iraq? Mr. President, why did you decide to increase our troop strength in Afghanistan? Mr. President, why do major corporations still dictate so much economic policy? Mr. President, why is there such focus on responding to the same tired rhetorical discussions regarding terrorism instead of investing in sound strategies?

In a recent editorial, Thomas Friedman said that we should turn away from the Cheneyistic vision of terrorism and turn our gaze upon how China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong have managed to craft a rising, world-class economic power. We worry over stopping the spread of terrorism by sending our foot soldiers to kill their foot soldiers when the real culprits behind the jihads rarely get bloodied and continue to recruit by the tens of thousands the disenfranchised illiterates who are willing to strap bombs to their underwear. Have you not seen the documentary Terror in Mumbai, Mr. President? You should. Meanwhile, we sink hundreds of billions of dollars into supporting "democratic" regimes which, when we leave (and we WILL leave one day), will immediately fall prey to the most powerful imam or warlord who has the most guns.

Mr. President, our country is in financial ruins still, and while I know you are trying to hold some executives accountable, what about that sinkhole called the War on Terrorism? We can't win by killing. Friedman is right--al-Qaida is trying to bankrupt us and it's working. With the money we've spent on this "war," we could pay for a gold standard healthcare system for everyone, remove ourselves from oil dependency, and reboot a public jobs program to put anyone who wants to work into a job--and still have money left over.

You don't have an easy job, Mr. President, and I'm still on your side. But, as you can see by the results in Massachusetts, time is running out for you to seize the day again, to bring back the hope you once promised. We don't have a lot of patience, Mr. President, because you vowed to change things in Washington only to show us this first year that business goes on as usual. Your base support is still there but eroding at a fast pace. Please, seize the initiative again, Mr. President. Take those chances you said you would. Don't work to get re-elected but work to make us a better country and people.

Please, Mr. President.

If you DVR'd your life. . .

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 13:09:09 -0400

We live in an age when we want immediate, downloadable media at our fingertips, yet we are still entertained in an increasingly old-fashioned manner by actually sitting down and glueing our eyes to a TV screen. Yet, we don't want to be bothered by having to truly be in our recliners or stretched out on the couch at a particular time of day or night. Hence, the rise of the DVR. Okay, I admit it. I DVR. . .a lot. Why? I seem to have an inability to be home when my TV shows are on. . .and I hate commercials. . .and possibly I watch way too much boob tube (it is important to the free world who wins Top Chef!). I'm sure these reasons--and many more--are what fuel others, as well.

However, a peculiar phenomonem has been recurring: the desire to DVR snapshots of my life. As I was listening to Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring on the radito this morning, I caught myself wishing to rewind it. Numerous times I've literally thought, "just let me hit the rewind. . ." only to realize I was viewing live action that was, well, live. Was that a three-legged deer running across the road? Here, let me back the tape up--oops, can't do that.

All of that got me to thinking. What if I could DVR events from my life? Which ones would fast forward through, and which others would I replay over and over again? So, what do you think? Can you choose just one of each? To start things rolling, I'll tell you mine.

The event in my life I'd first like to fast forward through is when I told an ex-wife goodbye, as in I'm leaving. It's not so much that painful episode haunts me as much as it is I've always wanted to get beyond the hurt I caused, to not see the fear and anguish in her face, not unlike the deer in the headlights look. If my fastforwarding could ease that time in her life, I'd gladly hit the button.

As for the moment I'd love to replay continuously, that was a more difficult choice. Choosing just one episode out of years of smiles and laughs is akin to picking one play out of a season of baseball to represent your team. But, I did it. For awhile, I was a stay-at-home-dad, and I was fortunate enough to see my youngest daughter take her very first steps. She had been able to stand on her own for weeks, but every time she thought about walking, she'd drop down to her hands and knees. On this fateful morning, however, she stood up, hanging on to the love seat; then she spied the stuffed animal on the coffee table across the den--about 15 feet away--and launched herself in a stilting, drunken sailor manner, lurching toward the animal. I was in total awe and wept. I still see her smile when she made it, grabbed the animal, and turned to look at me. That is one moment I will always rerun in my head. Come to think of it, we do have pretty good mental DVRs at our disposal.

So, anyone care to share their best and worst moments?