A Day in the Life of Chaos

One of the most frustrating things about being a Liberal is patience.  We are so desperate in our conviction to our beliefs that we want the world to shift over night.  We want peace, justice, compassion and civility to arrive like a torrential rain cleansing society of injustice and malaise.  We are filled with hope yet the very hope we cling to lays the ultimate seeds for much of our eventual frustration and dismay.   When we elect a candidate based on a message of hope and change we tend to envision it as if we are buying a product.  We simply have to take it home, open it up and we can sample the fruits of our labor and our money.  We hope it will be deliciously sweet, filled with all the promises that were made.  Often however, as the metaphor would come to suggest the flavor is much more complex. Little in America changes quickly. We always like to think it will yet we live in a system that for better or for worse does not allow this.  It can be frustrating at times as we se

Today as I look out from my window from the 12th floor of a federal building I stare over the top of a picture I hung on my desk as an inspiration.  It is a picture taken not long ago of President Obama sitting in the seat that Civil Rights icon Rosa Parks once occupied on a bus in Alabama when she refused to leave and move to the back of the bus.  He is looking out the window almost as if someone might request the same of him.  It is a sad reminder of a time not long ago when people were not equal in this country.  Yet step by step we move forward yet it is a constant struggle.  It is a lot like a crying child reaching for a candy bar in a grocery store, eventually they will be pulled along and assume a proper course.  It might hurt and embarrass the child's mother in the process but she knows what has to be done and eventually the screaming child will learn as well. Yesterday our President took such a step in acknowledging that LGBT people have a right to join in marriage just

Today I was on my way to work driving my blue Nissan Cube 25 miles an hour down a four lane street.  In front of me there was a work truck with a large sticker in the window that said "OBAMA" with a communist hammer and sickle and a subscript saying, "United Socialist States of America." On the radio President Obama was giving a speech talking about wanting to create more jobs and save the middle class.  Suddenly I look to my side and see a giant F-something pickup truck changing lanes on top of me.  With inches to spare I honked my horn jammed on my breaks and he pulled off only to finish his merge in front of me.  I noticed the driver had a cellular telephone on his ear.  He turned, looked at me and gave some pathetic I am sorry wave.  I lowered my window and yelled out without obscenity, "GET OFF THE PHONE!" The man responded by turning, flipping me the bird and yelling back, "WELL FUCK YOU THEN!"  He then resumed talking on his phone. W

Is a person with an obsessive compulsive personality born with it or can it just happen?  I never really thought about the answer to that question as I laughed my way through every episode of Monk, the story of an obsessive compulsive private detective.  Monk is never far from a hand wipe.  Luckily he always has an assistant ready to hand him one after each door opened, each hand shaken.   Recently however a state of enlightened consciousness obtained while sitting on the holiest of holy thrones has provided an answer.  There is not much to do in the moments while you wait for nature to take its course.  Some read, some hum.   I tend to just speculate on who else is in my throne room by the shoes that they wear.  Of course all the while I keep my own shoes well within the boundaries of my stall to avoid any Larry Craig incident. When a toilet flushes you hear them rise to their feet.  They slide the lock to the stall and venture out into the bathroom.  At this point a decision is