Letter to the Editor

Yesterday I was reading the newspaper and getting angry as usual, but for some reason, a letter to the editor motivated me into action: I'm writing a response.

Here is the ridiculous letter:

Minority Rule

Here we go again. The UNC-CH library is not putting up a Christmas tree for fear of someone being "offended." Are we offended when someone wears a yarmulke? Are we offended when someone wears a turban? Are we offended when someone wears an abaya? Are we offended when we hear someone say, "Happy Hanukkah"? Do we insist that Muslims not fast during Ramadan? Of course, we don't. These are all public displays of religious beliefs. Christians wear no special clothing or badges to identify themselves, and the only public display of their religion is twice a year: Easter and Christmas.
Over 80 percent of Americans "profess" to be Christians. ARe we going to allow the minority to rule the majority? Emblazoned on office buildings in Washington and in courthouses throughout the nation are the words "In God We Trust." How can we continue to be a strong nation if we don't stand up for our beliefs? When we allow this to happen, we become weak and trampled upon.
What's next? Thank God, Congress still opens its session with a prayer.
God bless America and Merry Christmas.
-Richard Pinkard
Apex

My first response, unfortunately, was a blind "Whathakljhiosjhti;hioh o e", but I've recovered. Here's my draft in response:

Richard Pinkard's Dec. 13^th Letter, “Minority rule”, complaining of the lack of representation of Christianity at UNC-CH, namely a Christmas tree, is absolutely ludicrous. Mr. Pinkard sets up several remarkably misleading parallels regarding the expression of faith in public—making the specious claim that personal/individual expressions like yarmulkes, turbans, and hijabs are essentially the same as that of a public university displaying a Christmas tree. It is astounding that Mr. Pinkard cannot see the difference between a state school specifically endorsing a particular religion and an individual expressing his/her faith. Further, he portrays Christians as a persecuted class by failing to mention that there are no regulations preventing Christians from wearing crucifixes, affixing the Ichthys to their cars, and putting up their own Christmas trees. There is a strange argument implicit in his insistence that Christians are being prevented from showing their beliefs publicly: one's faith is somehow being disrespected if it is not at center stage in the public square.

On top of his strange logic regarding the expression of faith, Mr. Pinkard entirely disregards the separation of church and state by using the percentage of the population who are Christian to justify his outrage. Not only is it irrelevant, but his apocryphal statistics are incorrect: according to the CIA World Factbook, only 68.5%, not the 80% he claims, of Americans are Christian (Protestant, Roman Catholic, Mormon, and “Other Christian”).

-Jessie

Apex

There are so many things wrong with his thinking that I couldn't possibly fit them into one letter, but I certainly tried to hit the worst offenses. I didn't even try to touch the congressional prayer issue...

Thoughts?

American Legion

OK. Guess where I was on September 11th this year, (which also happens to be patriot day). No, I wasn't out burning flags---I spent the evening at a Raleigh post of the American Legion. Their strange little shack is about the scariest place you can imagine: the sign is shaped not unlike the blade of a circular saw, the the whole place looks like it was very... hill-billy-home-made, and the sagging roof had a couple of beer cans perched on top. After I drove up the winding gravel drive, I parked and meandered over to the entrance. I was greeted by Ms. Honeycutt, a nice little old lady, who was quite a contrast to the terrifying man standing behind her: he was about 6 feet tall, wearing a leather vest, and he had the most sunken, hollow eyes I've ever had the misfortune to stare into. I said, "Good evening sir", but he just looked at me blankly. He had the aura of a person whose life hasn't gone quite the way they hoped it would. After I darted past them to grab my name-tag, I hurried away to find a friendlier face. Who should I see but Jo! She had brought her sister along and they were both wearing the dreaded Girls' State polos.

I suppose I ought to back up: the entire reason for my presence at this terrifying hide-out was to (a.) tell the Legionnaires how much I loved Girls' State, and (b.) thank them ever s0 much for sending me. A member of the American Legion Auxiliary, or as I like to call it, "The Crazy Conservative Confederation", called me and asked me straight up, "What was you favorite part of Girls' State?" Initially I assumed that it was an idle question so I gave a saccharine statement about how much I loved the program and how wonderful it was to meet new people. Then she informed that I would be talking about it in a speech for the American Legion. Yeah. Ugh. I quickly had an about-face and told her I was fascinated by learning about lobbying.

I know I could have told her that I was going to be out of town, but I didn't, and my reasons were not entirely noble: I had visited the creepy Legion post once before, and I wanted to get a photo of it. Sadly, the photos were accidentally deleted... Also, this place is so far out in the boonies that GoogleMaps hasn't got a street view for it!

Anyway: Point is that I went, and it was unpleasant. They crowded about 25 of us over on the far side for the benefit of perhaps 3 old Legionnaires. Several blowhards stood at the front of the admittedly small room and used a microphone--it was uncalled for. They could have whispered and we would have heard them just fine. After they had rambled on for a bit, we recited some patriotic tripe and prayed several times. Yes--praying once was not enough for God to hear us. Maybe the call was dropped. If so, they should have their prayer-provider looked into. After sitting quietly for what seemed like an eternity, the march of falsely enthusiastic participants began. Each girl walked up the microphone and desperately tried to think of something to say. Some seemed to have genuinely enjoyed it; in fact, one girl went on for about 5 minutes about how much it had increased her patriotism and how much more she loves Murkuh now. Oy.

When I got up to the microphone, I was sorely tempted to use it as an opportunity to give them all a piece of my mind. I wanted to share with them my distaste for extreme patriotism. I wanted to make them see how ridiculous the whole idea is. I didn't. I said something about how I'd enjoyed every aspect of the program and thanked them for giving me the opportunity. They all smiled like self-satisfied toads and leaned back in their chairs basking in the glow of being appreciated by a whole bunch of young people. Perhaps that's a bit harsh... less like toads... more like fat cats. I can't really badmouth them because as I left, they gave me a doughnut.

mmm...tasty...

What can you say?

'Man shot churchgoers over liberal views'

American society is very very sick.

• In 2006, about 68% of all murders, 42% of all robberies, and 22% of all aggravated assaults that were reported to the police were committed with a firearm.
• in 2001 about 39% of the deaths that resulted from firearm injuries were homicides, 57% were suicides, 3% were unintentional, and 1% were of undetermined intent.
• On the wikipedia List of School-Related Attacks, 102 occurred in the United States, and only 44 in the rest of the entire world. It even includes actions by the Viet Cong. The US is STILL more violent.
  

I'm Proud to be an American (MURKUN!!)

**This is an excerpt from a 'letter' home during my week at hyper-patriotic boot camp (Tar Heel Girls' State) taken from the evening of Flag Day**


Flag Day was horrible.

We had to march out in complete silence, and align in reverent rows facing the flag while girls wearing white dresses, who in a militaristic fashion, marched in actually barking "left... left... left, right, left". We stood at attention in the sweltering heat and had to listen to an awful poem dedicated to the flag.

Most patriotic poetry is unpleasant to say the least, but this particular one crossed too many lines for my liking. Perhaps it was too honest about us. Stepping back from that, in the first place, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of pledging my allegiance to a FLAG rather than to a COUNTRY. I'm supposed to be willing to die for a couple scraps of colored cloth? If I'm going to be loyal to anything it would have to be the the people of my country--living, breathing, humans. Why should I pledge myself to an abstract idea that has little to do with me or anything that I care about. It's too easy for a symbol to be co-opted and used to mean something that it shouldn't; it is too divorced from the reality of the United States which is multifaceted and simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

The pledge confuses me on another count: the frequency. Every day? Really? Is that necessary? Are we trying to say that our allegiance has to be renewed daily or it goes sour? Does loyalty have such an early expiration date as that? It isn't a particularly meaningful sort of allegiance/loyalty if it only lasts for a day. Ah well. Anyway, the poem made me feel like we were the evil empire (or the Alliance from Firefly & Serenity). There was one line about the flag feeling proud when mothers clutch it and weep for their lost sons, which made me feel physically sick. We're proud of causing death?! I often find patriotic rhetoric a bit silly, but that really disgusted me. By the end of the ceremony, when they were retiring the flag, I couldn't help but think to myself "Take it down. Get it out of my sight." I don't like feeling that way, but I really, really hated the sight of it.

Here's the horror itself:

I am the Flag
Howard Schnauber

---

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. <-- NOT ANYMORE WE DON'T
I stand watch in America's halls of justice. <-- AND OVERFLOWING PRISONS
I fly majestically over institutions of learning. <-- AND CHURCHES SEEKING TO RETURN TO THE DARK AGES
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up ... and see me.


I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. <-- DO WE? DO WE REALLY? AND HOW EXACTLY HAVE WE SHOWN THAT LATELY?
I stand for freedom. <-- WHEN I THINK OF AMERICA I THINK OF DETAINEE PRISONS AND THE DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE ACT
I am confident.
I am arrogant. <--- OH YEAH.. THAT'S JUST WHAT WE NEED.
I am proud. <-- OF WHAT EXACTLY?

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer. <-- OH LOVELY... SO WE THINK WE'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world. <-- YEAH... THAT'S NOT NECESSARILY GOOD...
I am worshipped -- I am saluted. <-- CREEPY!
I am loved -- I am revered.
I am respected -- and I am feared. <-- THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL TOO PROUD

I have fought in every battle of every war <--- UM. NO. WHAT?
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome, and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and
KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me. <--- NOT IN A POSITIVE WAY THOUGH
I was there.

I led my troops.
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible. <-- MWAHAHAHA WE WILL MULTIPLY AND COVER THE EARTH!!!!

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts. <-- I THOUGHT YOU LIKED FREEDOM!? WHAT ABOUT FREEDOM OF SPEECH?
But I shall overcome -- for I am strong. <--- NO YOU WON'T. YOU'RE JUST A SYMBOL!! SHUT UP!

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud. <-- AGAIN. SICKENING. I SEE NOTHING IN THIS STANZA TO BE PROUD OF.

My name is 'Old Glory'!
Long may I wave
o'er the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

Another odd thing is that during the sessions in the chapel where we link arms, sway, and sing 'God Bless the USA', devout atheist though I am, I involuntarily look towards the stained glass window at the pinnacle of the chapel and think "Please forgive me". I'm not sure who I'm talking to. Perhaps my parents. Perhaps my new country if I emigrate. Perhaps myself. At any rate, it makes me feel less horrible about participating in the cult-like behavior--It reminds me that I don't actually believe the bullshit that's coming out of my mouth.