Monthly Archives: August 2010

A Challenge to Glenn Beck, an American Disgrace

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I don’t mind honest differences of opinion and the ability to share them honest, openly and equally. I do, however, very much mind when a self-aggrandizing twit like Glenn Beck purposefully and knowingly misleads those who believe in him, all to fill his pockets with money and his ego with a false sense of importance, the hell with the fact there are honest and decent Americans being taken in by his ruse, one component of which is his faux crying.

One video captures his crying ruse with sickening clarity. Equally disturbing to Beck’s seedy dishonesty and willful manipulation of the American people is the fact those on the set in this video apparently find the ruse funny.  But the ruse is meant to do what? Mislead the American people. And why mislead them? Not because he loves my country as he disingenuously claims, but because he is an attention and money whore and wants more of both.

Since, as Mr. Beck is now claiming, the “spirit” is speaking through him, one can assume he’s got some pretty nifty life guidance and would not be apt to make a mistake in judgment. Hmm, Glenn? Having said that, I’d like to extend a challenge Mr. Weepy, it’s the way we settled things back in my reform school days and it is, in a word foreign to Beck, fair. Why don’t you and I put the gloves on and  go three rounds, just for fun. We’ll both wear head gear and given that you are 10 years younger than me and don’t have a hole in your skull or a bullet lodged in your brain, you could get lucky with a couple of good head shots.

However, you’ve got to land those shots and when it comes to that, I actually don’t care what the “spirit” is telling you, although perhaps it is suggesting the vapo-rub the make-up artist is putting in your eyes for your faux tears may be why you’re having your so-called vision problems, numb nuts. If you put the gloves on with me there is a very strong possibility that it will be quite some time before you can return to work, a wonderful respite indeed for the American family. Moreover, if you put the gloves on with me,  I can promise you two things: you won’t finish the three rounds and your tears will be real. 

Dreams on the Doorstep

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You are on the precipice of all you’ve ever imagined waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. Line forms at the right. There’s that clearly imagined sneering voice in the wings  waiting for you to digest the last morsel of believing something entirely so it can tell you your belief is unfounded, especially you. Chances are you are in a fight with your history. And, while your history, like mine, has its distinct presence, it is only the decision maker you allow it to be.

Here I am at 56 on the verge, or so it seems, of co-owning property. A house! A real honest to goodness house. Pinch me, I’m dreaming. And if this dream on my doorstep wants to come in let me keep the door open and welcome it, the wonder of it. A beautiful house with rooms and sunlight and oak floors and a barn and beautiful large trees. It takes no effort to remember days of hunger, days of walking the streets, nowhere to go. My dream then was to sleep in a  real bed with sheets and blankets and pillows one more time before my life was over. I didn’t care if it was in an SRO or a basement. The idea of clean sheets was tantamount to heaven.

I can tell you that none of this would be happening were I not sober. Without sobriety, nothing is possible. With sobriety, whatever is possible comes into view, and whatever isn’t is manageable.

Dreams on the doorstep you gotta lettem in. Dreams on the doorstep for you too. Dare to dream then dare to believe. Keep your doors open, the dream’s on the doorstep, welcome home.

Justice: It’s A Beautiful Thing

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Anywhere But Me

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Everybody’s texting, X-Gaming, PCing, laptoping, TVing, or talking on their (not so) smart phones. It’s as if we want, or are being encouraged, to be anywhere but the moment we’re in. Anywhere but with ourselves. Once we are so disengaged, we are all the more controllable. Capitalism is not democracy.  It is very much the never ending pressure to get us to spend money by convincing us our value is located in things outside ourselves, as long as they cost money.

We are inundated with the message that the more money things cost, the more “valuable” they are, and the more “valuable” they are, the more “successful” we are if we own them  in the eyes of, well, who? In the eyes of the very people who are trying to get you to buy this crap in the first place,  who are trying to sell us one gadget after another, gadgets that foster addiction. If there is anything addiction does (it destroys your life)  it keeps you out of the moment you’re in. Our physical, emotional and spiritual selves are neglected and starved as a result.

Were we truly born to fill the pockets of others and sacrifice the miraculous in-the-moment experience of our own lives?

I know of instances were people living in the same house text each other rather than meet in the same room (God forbid) and talk.  Hell, people sit in the same room with each other, each on their computer, and while away the hours without exchanging so much as a single word, other than to utter non-impressive robotic monotone nuggets like: “Fuckin’ computer’s slow” or, “Damned email won’t open.” There are pictures of people in such staggeringly beautiful places as the Grand Canyon entirely missing the majesty of their surrounding because they are on their cell phones!

And what is the upshot of all this? We are drawn away from the moment we are in in life.  We are robbed of our lives. If there is anything we don’t deserve it is to have our lives robbed by the greed and manipulation of others.

Life is too short and too precious. Remember to live the moment you’re in. As a dear friend of mine once said, “The moment you’re in is the only place you have to be.”

 

 

Thoughts on the New York State Department of Health

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The content of this essay may surprise some. Wouldn’t be the first time. On the whole, I happen to like the New York State Department of Health.  In all the years I’ve interacted with them,  with only one minor recent exception, the people at the DOH have been all I could hope for. No, I don’t always agree with every single policy, but so what?

What I can confidently say about my relationship with the DOH when it comes to the world of brain injury survivors in my state is this; I believe they genuinely do care and, I believe, they are doing their best and working far harder for their constituents  than they are given credit for.

A long time ago I went to work for a man who was used to being surrounded by mostly sycophants. Early on I told him, “Please understand that brown does not wear well on my nose.” I’d later learned this was something he liked about me. Anyway, brown didn’t wear well then and it doesn’t wear well now, so anyone doubting the sincerity of what I am saying here is mistaken.

The Traumatic Brain Injury Waiver in  my state is, when all is said and done, a blessing. Does it have its problems? Sure. After all, any program taking on the significant challenge of helping people with brain injuries regain their independence and live in the community would. Moreover, we are all human beings who have never worn the countenance of perfection and never will and that’s okay. I can tell you that when I’ve sat across the table from people in the DOH, people like Mary Ann Anglin, Beth Gnozzio, Mark Kissinger, Lydia Kosinksi and more, I am sitting across the table from people who genuinely care.

While the experience of living with a brain injury is not easy on any front, it would be far more difficult for the 2,700 or so people now on the waiver, which is managed by the DOH.

If I had my way all those just mentioned would come to the brain injury summit scheduled for next month. They’re certainly more than welcome.