"The Constitution Is Kind Of An Original Recipe' If You Think About It..."

Chances are the names Juan Williams and Harlan Sanders don't often pop up in the same conversation, let alone the same sentence.

One reminded me of the other, though, as Juan's "Muslims make me nervous" observation lit a fuse that resulted in his NPR gig blowing up in his face.

Maybe it's just my proclivity for warping the dots a little as I connect them, but as I watched the little teapot tempest unfold, I found six letters running around in my head.

NPR.

KFC.

For it wasn't too long ago, in one of those inevitable moments when any sense of nutritional need takes a back seat to the craving for something from the two major food groups, grease and preservatives,that I found myself sitting at a sputtering, crackling drive thru speaker doing my best to articulate to the well intended, but somewhat obtuse, minimum waged poultry specialist on the listening end that my happiness du jour was directly dependent on something extra crispy.

And in one of those other inevitable moments where truth truly is stranger than fiction, the disembodied voice at the batter fried end of the speaker wire did their cordial customer service best to break the bad news gently.

"Uh...we're out of chicken right now....oh...we have plenty of sides, though!"

Putting aside the blatantly obvious difficulty any reasonable person would have getting their head around trying to formulate a satisfying meal limited to "fixins", I found myself unable to respond, my synaptic circuit breakers dramatically tripped by the non sequitur of a Kentucky Fried Chicken location that had everything...except chicken.

KFC. Kentucky Fresh Coleslaw, I thought of retorting?

I let it go, instinctively realizing that any fast food service trained mind that could cheerfully offer up taters and beans in place of thighs and breasts was probably ill equipped to grasp the satirical subtlety of comedy involving shredded cabbage.

That adventure came wandering back onto my radar this week as I read of the Juan-dering that cost Mr. Williams his day job.

KFC. Kentucky Fried Chicken.

NPR. National Public Radio.

I think we all know without having to be reminded that the key word in the former sentence is "chicken".

In the latter, on the other hand, I'd offer the key word is...wait for it..."public".

As in "the general populace, people in general considered as a whole".

Or, more germane to the issue, each and every single taxpaying citizen of the United States of America.

Regardless of race, creed, color, religious or sexual affiliation and...big finish...political ideology.

Because NPR is not a commercial enterprise funded by sponsors who might or might not be offended by any particular comment, observation, point of view et al during its broadcast day.

It is a non profit enterprise funded by grants, donations and, of course, federally mandated monies.

Or, as they are described more generically, your tax dollars at work.

Liberal tax dollars, conservative tax dollars, Catholic tax dollars, Protestant tax dollars, red state tax dollars, blue state tax dollars, all God's tax dollars comin' from all God's childruns.

And, therefore in theory, a broadcast enterprise that provides a comprehensive range of programming with a foundational philosophy of total inclusion, a forum for viewpoints of every slant, rant, rhyme and/or reason to be freely expressed, regardless of the aforementioned race, creed, color, etc, etc, yada, yada.

Apparently not.

Some obviously found Williams' comments offensive.

Some, just as obviously, likely did not.

In this particular instance, though, that's beside the point.

Here's the point.

We, meaning all of "we", fund National Public Radio.

So firing someone for expressing any, let alone a particular, point of view is, at best, inappropriate, at worst, unconstitutional.

At that moment, National Public Radio ceased to be "public".

And whether we think Juan Williams is a patriot or a pinhead, we should all be able to agree on the common denominator.

If NPR is no longer "public" radio anymore, than the "public" shouldn't be expected to foot the bill for it.

It ain't really KFC if they can't serve no chicken.

And it ain't really NPR if they can't serve the public.

All the public.

Not just those who can live with just the "fixins."

"...Pity There's No Heimlich For Hatred..."

Sensitivity training.

Now, there's an oxymoron just waiting to happen.

Due respect to the admirable human ability to learn and adapt, I've always felt like trying to teach someone to be sensitive is like trying to teach them to be tall.

Put less philosophically, you either is or you ain't.

Some years ago, in one moment of pique or another, I pulled the verbal trigger on somebody who was, to any reasonably functioning set of eyes and ears, being rude and crude.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that when I pull that trigger, I have what seems to be a God given gift for inflicting way more than the minimum daily requirement of humiliation on the inflictee.

A short while later, a friend/witness to the carnage took me aside and suggested that perhaps I could have found a more subtle, gracious way to enlighten the rude crudist as to their transgression.

Lennon-esque visions of "love is all you need" notwithstanding, I responded, with what probably could pass as Vulcan like logic, that if one were capable of understanding and accepting that their behavior was rude, crude and insensitive, they very likely wouldn't be...wait for it...insensitive in the first place.

In other words, the guy who doesn't hold the door open for you to enter as he exits the restaurant isn't going to start holding doors open just because you point out to him that he lacks a certain awareness of other people besides himself on the planet.

I tend to be reminded of that little scratch on the human schematic when I read the rants and raves masquerading as rhetoric of those who profess both a passionate commitment to what currently passes for conservatism as well as an equally passionate hatred for anyone offering up anything that might meander from the manifesto.

Okay, I'm through playing with my word toys now, let's spell it out.

Committed, unwavering, passionate adherence to a belief is not only a gift of prerogative afforded us by the system of government our founding fathers created, it is, no matter the belief itself, a legitimate act of patriotism.

The "voice of the people" and the freedom to both use it and hear it is a privilege even the most erudite can only begin to elucidate.

And when the voice is articulate, inspiring, motivational, thoughtful, provocative, lucid, even poetic, it creates a like atmosphere in which any positive, life affirming change is possible.

When, though, the voice is paltry, pedantic, vitriolic, even vicious, it, too, creates a like atmosphere where chaos flourishes and the darker sides of our nature block out any real light that might be available to show us the way out.

When the voice says that Meg Whitman must be accountable for not having been registered to vote, let alone actually vote, until 2002, it is raising a legitimate point worthy of discussion and debate.

When the voice calls her a whore, it is demeaning the freedom that ironically allows such a slander.

When the voice says that Christine O'Donnell should explain the discrepancies in her personal financial history, it is asking a reasonable question of someone who is asking for the right to make financial decisions that will affect large numbers of people.

When the voice calls her a witch, it is a worthless,childish giggle at a childhood learning experience.

And when the voice says that Barack Obama should rightly be measured by the accomplishments, or failures, of his two year old administration, it is speaking the words that the founders intended to be spoken in the process of checks and balances and accountability.

When the voice calls him a Muslim terrorist, it is betrayed by its own sound, the sound of gurgling and choking, hysteria disguised as passion, ignorance disguised as enlightenment.

That sound is not patriotic.

It's simply pathetic.

Those who make that sound are rude, crude and insensitive.

And should be ashamed.

Chances are they won't be.

If they were capable of understanding and accepting that their behavior was rude, crude and insensitive, they very likely wouldn't be...wait for it...insensitive in the first place.

you must be THIS tall to ride to the right...

"I Know You Are, But What Am I?..."

Two years ago, I published a collection of essays chronicling the 2008 presidential campaign.

This piece will resume in five seconds.

The book is entitled "Three Hats" and is available at Blurb.com.

And now...

As an epilogue to that work, at that time, I wrote the following:

January 2010.
Barack Obama has been President for one year. Assuming, God forbid, that some psychotic wack job trying to impress Halle Berry doesn’t take a shot at him, those who didn’t care for him still don’t care for him and those that believed him to be the answer to every prayer uttered have quietly gone back to living their lives as best they can, having realized that he is mere mortal, subject to the same challenges and setbacks that every guy who calls the Oval Office his nine to five.
Oprah is inconsolable, by the way.

Now, as we approach the mid term elections in the year 2010, allow me to once again offer my layman's prediction:

November 2010
The mid term elections been held. The clear and unmistakable voice being heard in the polling results is one of frustration and resentment. The former arising from a sense Democrats have that the promise that seemed so bright and shining in 2008 turned out, in fact, to be more pyrite than precious metal and the latter arising from a sense Republicans have that so many were blinded by that brightness that the right was robbed of its chance to have four more years of Bush-Cheney by any other name.

And while I'm at it, let me add to that a little of this:

Ultimately, unless there is some high drama twist waiting around the next bend to thicken the plot, the presidency of Barack Obama will end in November 2012, regardless of who the Republicans nominate, his singular, and primary, accomplishment being that he was the man history chose to break the racial ceiling at 1600 Pennsylvania.

Our political system, much like our economic system, functions and/or survives, largely in spite of, rather than because of, those who circumstance or circumvention put in the wheelhouse at any given time.

And despite the passionate, albeit irrational, beliefs of the extremists in our own society who vent their political spleens with absurd notions of a White House occupied by Muslim terrorists or foreign born non-American citizens or, God forbid, the anti-Christ incarnate, the system will do what the system always does.

Purge, clean, right and adjust itself accordingly.

It was designed that way.

Perhaps the most positive contribution we can make is to continue reaching for the stars, while keeping our expectations and feet on the ground.

While offering to our more hysterical fellow travelers that screaming about the sky falling might clear the throat...but it doesn't clear the path.

"...And The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round (well, right, then, left, then right...but you get the idea...)"

Nostradamus gets a lot of credit for being extraordinarily prescient.

For my money, though, when it comes to the gift of possessing "knowledge of events before they occur", you won't find anybody more someday savvy than the Bard of Avon himself.

Put your hands together for Mr. William Shakespeare, everybody!...(and don't forget to tip your server...)

All due respect to the "King of the Quatrain", Willie not only held up a pretty accurate mirror to our human foolishness but made that awareness infinitely more palatable, sprinkling it here and there in the midst of the only thing humanity has ever seemed capable of paying attention to any longer than ten or twelve seconds at a time.

Show biz.

Long before Mama figured out how to crush our vitamins and mix them in with the mashed potatoes, the Shake was feeding us morality and mayhem and message by hiding them in snappy patter and distracting dialogue.

Think Tennessee Williams without the ripped bodices, overly syrupy Southern accents and please just kill me now humidity.

Willie's gift of get it surfaced for me again earlier this week when I saw the first blurbs hyping the "new" chit chat chapter coming to a flat screen near you.

"Parker/Spitzer".

For those who simply must see the trailer before deciding on the flick, allow me.

http://parkerspitzer.blogs.cnn.com/

Okay.

Three things.

First, you don't have to be a Mensa member to recognize that there ain't nothin' about to happen here that we haven't seen ad nauseum, repeatus maximus throughout the history of broadcasting, be it Shana Alexander bitch slapping James Kilpatrick around or Mr. Ackroyd suggesting that Ms. Curtin talk to the hand with a crowd pleasing "Jane, you ignorant slut..".

Second,(and here's the fun one)...Shakespeare gets the props for opining so many moons ago that there is "nothing new under the sun"....

Stop the presses, though.

Willie gets the atta boy, but he didn't originally frame the phrase.

Credit where due, you've got to go back to that perennial New York Times best seller, the Holy Bible.

Ecclesiastes 1:9

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

Well now, who saw that coming?

I suspect the Parkerpeeps (I've already taken the initiative to coin fun little names for their followers) will be beside themselves at the news that that liberal, bleeding heart playwright had to rely on that old time religion to thicken his plots.

And the Spitzerspaniels will undoubtedly find some way to blame that on George W.

Meanwhile, we arrive at the third of my previously advertised three things.

And where I think the put-er together-ers of this latest entry in the yin yang category erred when they put it together.

Or, more to the point, what they left out.

Watching political discussions between two sides is, in theory, the philosophical equivalent of a match at Wimbledon. Serve and volley with passion and gusto until one server/volleyer proves to be the superior of the two and a victor emerges.

That's the theory.

The reality is a horse (or donkey or elephant, whatever) of a different color.

Political discussion limited to red state/blue state banter is actually the philosophical equivalent of tic tac toe.

The match, by its nature,, is unwinnable.

X and O always spell stalemate.

Here's a thought.

You want discourse and discussion that might honestly have some kind of impact?

Put somebody in the middle.

Someone who walks into the studio without pre-set position or agenda. Someone who is willing to listen to spirited debate and discussion and make up his or her mind on the merits of the moment. Someone who gives thoughtful consideration to both the pros and the cons of this side and that side and then offers a perspective that might allow both sides to come together, the whole being so much greater than the sum of its parts.

Here's the chance of that.

An ice cube's...in hell.

Not sure if Shakespeare ever uttered that phrase.

Pretty sure it's in the Bible somewhere.

Liberty as Ball Of Yarn

Ogden Nash was a witty fellow.

And not just a little insightful at the same time.

"The trouble with a kitten is that / it eventually becomes a cat..."

I'm reminded of that philosophy from time to time, most often when I read a political diatribe written by someone who, while clearly passionate in their conviction, lacks the depth of thought to pull it off.

Or, as the less verbose might express it, there really are a lot of obtuse folks wandering the highways and blogways these days.

The problem, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in our inadvertently giving the aforementioned obtuse-esque not only a license to freely express their remarkable density, but a variety of forums in which to put said density on public display, from news site comment sections to celebrity poll questions, from Facebook postings to Twitter twitterings.

G has a theory about life that rings both tender and true.

Everything is a tradeoff.

For everything that we receive, there is, in some form or another, an eventual price to be paid for it.

In this particular case, it is the advance of technology, creating a wondrous place like the internet where anyone and everyone can and, much, too much, to our chagrin, does, feel free to share their point of view on an infinite list of life issues in a most ad nauseum fashion.

When the argument is well framed and exquisitely articulated, it can be a thing of priceless value.

When the argument is the verbal equivalent of the passing of gas at the dinner table, the devaluation is meteoric.

And, when all else fails the aforementioned gas passer, the justification offered is that tried and true chestnut, that crowd pleasing, oldie but goodie..."freedom of speech..."

At which point, both G's and Mr. Nash's respective points of view find purchase.

The tradeoff for being given the freedoms we enjoy is that freedom, by its nature, is non exclusive.

Or, as the more poetic might express it...

"The problem with freedom is that / you have to give it to everybody..."