A Wicked Masterpiece for Wicked Times

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I had the great privilege the other day of seeing the hit Broadway musical, Wicked. For years I had heard that this alternate take on The Wizard of Oz was must-see theater, but I had no idea what I was in for.

I purposely went in knowing only that this is the so-called “untold story” of a beloved American classic. And I understood that it involved serious themes, which, as I have said here before, lie at the heart of my own passion for theater.  I thus expected a story that would touch on prejudice and bigotry, and indeed I found that, but what I did not expect was such brilliant and unblinking attention paid to domestic violence, the abuse of children and animals, power and control, torture, tyranny, courage and redemption. Without revealing details, let me say as a dissident voice recently targeted for silencing, that what resonated most personally for me was the silencing of dissident voices by corrupt authority figures and fawning, feel-good minions. Sound familiar?

What I saw in the theater on that day was a retelling of a beloved American classic  that mirrors what at least one member of its audience (me) sees occurring beyond those theater doors in our own non-Ozian world. I both hope and expect that I am not alone in this, that this accounts for this show’s wild popularity, despite what the show’s creators might have intended originally. The moment art of any kind is released into the atmosphere, it becomes whatever an individual reader/viewer/audience member wishes it to be, a fact I first experienced personally years ago when a short story I had written for an undergraduate fiction seminar was suddenly being discussed as a retelling of the fall from grace in the Garden of Eden. News to me.

I speak here then as an audience member who was never a rabid fan of the original Wizard, but who now includes the “untold” version of that tale, one filled with rich and desperate themes – including one of the most powerful scenes I have ever witnessed on the stage (hint: torn flesh, the stain of blood) – on my list of all-time favorites. I urge others to see it, as well, just as I urge us all to resist the silence and the goosesteps.

Japan’s Tragedy and Preparing for the Worst

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As a veteran of several large earthquakes during my formative years, I have watched with great sorrow the tragedies that have stricken Japan over the past couple of weeks.  While my own thoughts mirror those we have heard from all corners in the aftermath of the trauma, the events and the dignity we have witnessed of the victims dealing with those events have gotten me thinking, as they should, about what we can do when and if we find ourselves in the sites of such unexpected danger.

Believer that I am in preparedness, when I lived in earthquake country I was one of the most prepared individuals ever to populate the San Andreas Fault.  Outfitted with water, food (for dogs, too), light sources, camping gear, first-aid supplies, radios, tools and enough batteries to power an L.A. high rise for a week — from car to office to home — no earthquake was going to leave me and mine helpless. When I then moved from earthquake country to blizzard country some years back, I simply transferred that mindset to accommodate the new type of threat Mother Nature may decide to send my way.  

My long-suffering husband has through the years humored me in my compulsion, and like any decent mother bear, I have schooled my kids in the fine art of preparing for disaster, which has become second nature to them, as well. And indeed my clan has witnessed firsthand the value of my efforts, particularly when we have found ourselves in sub-zero temperatures without heat or light or running water.

I realize that such preparations may be useless in the face of tsunami or nuclear meltdown, and my heart goes out to the thousands of people dealing with such unspeakable tragedy today. But the hard fact of this life is that some catastrophes simply defy preparation or human intervention. Or blame.  Preparing for the worst, however, gives us power, and I have found that that with that power comes peace of mind. When you acknowledge that disaster can strike, and you  gather the supplies and learn what to do if it does, you become less a victim in both mind and body. So wherever you are, wherever you live, be ready ahead of time for whatever special brand of disaster might occur — earthquakes, hurricanes, brush fires, blizzards, tornadoes, the list goes on. By preparing for disaster, we make our own luck, and perhaps even our own survival, as well.

A Letter to Mrs. Obama from an American Parent

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Dear Mrs. Obama:

A friend was kind enough to send me a copy of a letter you wrote to America’s parents, written, it appears, when you were busy hosting visitors from China as your husband celebrated “China’s rise,” and in the aftermath of the terrible shootings in Tucson.  Your letter, as you may recall, was written to instruct us parents to be tolerant and to teach tolerance to our children, suggesting that if we had done this, we might have prevented the Tucson shooting.

I know the past few months have been very busy for you, what with entertaining foreign dignitaries, hosting the White House Super Bowl party, taking vacations, traveling across the country for the Tucson memorial/Obama-campaign-launch event, teaching parents to prevent mass murders with tolerance, and gaining access as part of a large group of politicians to the ICU to visit Tucson-shooting victim Congresswoman Giffords.  I’m still wondering how a large group of non-family-member politicians gained that access; most hospitals are pretty stringent about ICU patient visitations.  I also don’t remember you and your husband being quite so passionate and involved when more than 40 people were shot, 13 murdered, at Fort Hood by a radical religiously-motivated shooter back in November, 2009.  But I do remember talk of tolerance; guess we parents didn’t do our job to prevent the tragedy in Tucson.

You, however, do not rest.  In your tireless efforts to make us, as your husband described, “better,” you have now taken it upon yourself to help influence and control the portion sizes served by America’s restaurants.  I believe I speak for many other American parents, who, like me, eat quite frequently in America’s restaurants and love nothing more than receiving enormous portions of food and bringing enormous boxes of leftovers home afterwards to satisfy the enormous appetites of growing active kids.  With all due respect, you need not suggest that we offer them something more in keeping with your list of preferred foods, because what and how we feed our kids is our decision, not yours.

Also our decision, and one of the most personal as a parent, is the decision to breastfeed – another issue you have taken upon yourself to promote.  I know it has been years since you were faced with that decision, and I don’t care to know what you decided, but I would imagine you know of women, who, for whatever reason, either could not or would not engage in this activity.  What is never addressed in regard to this topic is that it can be far more difficult and far greater a commitment than many women realize.  In answer to your related claim that breastfeeding prevents obesity, while plenty of scientific evidence confirms the benefs of breastfeeding on brain development, I have seen nothing linking it to long-term obesity prevention (and I have a feeling you haven’t either). 

So with all due respect, Mrs. Obama, as one of the millions of American parents you are addressing en masse with your letters, your speeches and your alleged scientific conclusions, I have done just fine on my own feeding my kids; monitoring their portions of restaurant food; and, as is my right as an American (an American who has always been proud of my country), teaching them the core values of my choice.  Indeed I know I speak for myself and millions of other American parents, when I say that we were doing just fine in this mission, long before we ever even heard of you and your husband.

I thus think your time might be better spent, not lecturing American parents on what we must do to ensure our progeny and their beliefs meet your and your husband’s particular expectations, but to concentrate instead on your own daughters.  I know nothing about your children (apart from the private information you shared about their BMI scores), and that is how it should be.  Your children and their BMI scores are, and should be, no concern of mine, and you, a self-appointed representative of the government, need not bother yourself with concerns about my children, either.

Imagined Reflections on a Memorial in Tucson

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He kissed her good-bye that morning. Gave her a hug and told her to have fun. Then he began his Saturday work around the house.

The phone rang. He picked it up. Yes, speaking. What? No, he hadn’t heard. Terrible. No. What?

Oh, God.

The next days were fog, thick and blinding. The shock. The pain. The casseroles. He didn’t know where he was. He barely knew who he was. He heard familiar voices around him, he heard their pain, but he didn’t register faces. The only face he wanted was hers.

Wednesday. A memorial. You need to be there, they told him. It will help. Closure. You need closure, they said. It’s too soon, he told himself. But he needed to be there, they told him. So he would be. For her.

They arrived. Right on time. Just as they were told.  Along with all the others. Right on time. Here? he wondered. A smiling young blond ushered him, them, in to the arena. An arena? he wondered. Didn’t seem right.

Someone handed him a t-shirt. No, not right at all. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head, pushing the item away. “Okay,” the someone said. “If you’re sure…” He was. He walked to the next usher. The next handler. The next smiling young blond. Here. Sit here. The front row, she said. That’s right. Perfect. “So exciting,” he heard her whisper to another.

He closed his eyes. Took a breath. And he waited. As the place grew louder with voices. Distant giggles. Shouts. A rumbling din. What you hear while waiting for a basketball game. At an arena.

Time passed. He opened his eyes. Crowds still streamed in. Smiling faces. Tens of thousands. Not one known to him. He waited. Until the applause signaled him to attention. And the cheering. It had begun. This memorial.

Enter the parade. A medicine man. Some music. Faces from television, from the news, from the nation’s capitol. He didn’t know them. They didn’t know her. They spoke. And they would point at him, smile at him. And the tens of thousands would cheer. More words. A disjointed blur. A disjointed slur. Thanks for coming…a great university…the creator…a letter from Paul…be civil…such a tragedy…be civil…be better. And they would applaud. Those tens of thousands. Applauding. Cheering. Whistling. So exciting.

And deafening. Pounding in his head. Echoing, vibrating from the seats high above. So exciting. And now they were standing. He guessed he should too. Right? More words. More applause. More standing. More whistles and cheers. He heard her name. And they were clapping. And looking at him, smiling. And crushing his ribs.

They stood again. It was over. Done. This memorial. You need to be there, they had told him. It will help. He followed them out. Those tens of thousands. Back to the car. Back to his home.

He walked inside. He looked around. She would not be waiting there. Now, or ever again. He looked at the faces around him. Faces known to him. And to her. Voices familiar. How wrong they had been. “What was that?” he asked. They had no answers this time. All they could do was shrug and shake their heads.

Obama Delights a Raucous Audience with Tonight’s “Memorial” Speech in Tucson

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I tried so hard not to watch Obama’s speech in Arizona tonight, but, as usual, it found me, and I have no choice but to be watching it now. What I am seeing is a presidential campaign speech, a rock concert…anything but a memorial honoring Americans who were savagely murdered by a madman last Saturday.

I won’t call it a memorial address, because from the very moment Obama was introduced, it became a rowdy, raucous campaign event, complete with repeated standing ovations for the pres, Obama’s customary pauses following the perfectly choreographed ”applause” and “laugh” lines that pepper his speech, and an audience’s abject disregard for the tragic events that led to this moment. While the audience’s embarrassing behavior is not Obama’s fault, a man of true compassion and emotion would have taken the stage in the midst of the applause and cat calls and whistles and hollers and shouted them down.  I envision such a man thrusting his arms into the air and shouting, “No! That’s not why we’re here! Show some respect! This isn’t about me!” But as we know, it’s always about him.

There is much evocation of “God,” heroism and civility in tonight’s speech, but those applause lines, so fast and furious, whisk us back to that ridiculous State of the Union Address, where the Congress punctuated Obama’s every sentence with this same applause, this same idolatrous slobbering. Obama is now offering synopses of each of the victims whose lives were destroyed last Saturday — apparently, as Obama’s lapdogs in the media and in the government would have us believe, because of those on the right who oppose this president and his policies.

In keeping with that theme, Obama speaks now about keeping the discourse civil. Missing from his current treatise on civility, however, is mention of his own past instructions to his followers: Bring a gun to a knife fight, ”get in the faces” of those who oppose us, and ”punish” our “enemies.” No, tonight we delight in an Obama speech, where a few touching moments are nestled within strings of generic inspirational phrases, capped by the repeated message that we must ”be better” (translated as “agree with me and carry out all that I ask because I know what’s good for you”).

And now the speech, as well as the so-called “memorial,” comes to an end. Obama’s lapdogs will no doubt herald it as the most incredible speech ever given anywhere by anyone at any time in all of human history. He would have impressed me if he had, with details not platitudes, scolded those who have used this tragedy, this atrocity, for their own political purposes: a congressman who has already used the events to raise money for his 2012 reelection campaign, left-wing journalists and elected officials who instantly blamed the right for the deranged shooter’s actions, a sheriff who immediately blamed high-profile individuals on the right rather than acknowledge that he himself failed to take seriously the known threat presented by the alleged perpetrator, left-wing congresspeople who have used the attack to further their own political agendas that include gun control and the silencing of anyone who opposes the left…the list goes on and on. And on.

The pundits are now praising the president’s speech, obviously far more impressed by it than I was. Go ahead and chastise me for my lack of civility, but the time comes when you know too much about a person and the damage he or she has done to your country to trust anything that individual says, even in times of tragedy. My daughter just asked what I would have done if I had been in that audience tonight as a relative of one of the victims. I told her I would have done what I wish the president had done. I would have stood up and shouted down the idiotic applause and shoutouts and whistles and scolded an audience that apparently mistook a memorial for victims of a mass murderer for a Springsteen concert. The president should have taken control of that audience and straightened them out. He didn’t. I wish someone had.

Despite an Irritating Guest, Sarah’s Family Sparkles in the Last Frontier

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Several people (you know who you are) insisted that I check out a recent episode of Sarah Palin’s reality show on the TLC cable network. The episode in question features a guest appearance by the irritating Kate Gosselin, “star” of another TLC “reality” show — “Kate Exploits 8,” or whatever it’s called – which finds her shamelessly using her children for her own self-aggrandizement.

Though I followed this directive, allow me first to say that I have tried to ignore the existence of Sarah’s show, her appearance in such a project a disappointment to me. But I watched anyway, and though Gosselin’s disgraceful “performance” had me praying even more fervently for the end of her 15 minutes of inexplicable fame, I was pleased to see Sarah and her clan emerge so lovable and “genuine,” in keeping with the alleged mission of so-called “reality” shows, most of which are anything but.

Indeed Sarah and her family sparkled, from Sarah’s dad, a retired biology teacher who mesmerized the kids (and the TV audience) with his house, a residential natural history museum; to Sarah’s hubby Todd, who escaped the guest star’s nonsense to go fishing alone, leaving his wife envious of said escape; to Sarah’s kids who were disgusted by the guest star’s failure even to try and enjoy an Alaskan camping trip; to the guest star’s exploited children, who were in seventh heaven spending time with the Palins in the Alaskan wilderness.

Failing to sparkle in any way was guest-star Gosselin, who lasted only a couple of hours on the camping trip, after which she guilted/threatened her kids to leave with her in her wimpy, whiny retreat. How sad for those kids, who, understandably, wanted to stay with the mama grizzly, the grandpa grizzly, and their clan. I don’t even want to think of what awaits those kids when puberty hits – and when their mom’s 15 minutes does finally come to a much deserved end.

Of course, Kate seems to believe that those 15 minutes will last forever.  Before she humiliated herself in the Last Frontier, she whined to Sarah that they are two peas in a pod because they both understand the slings and arrows of media scrutiny. Sorry, Kate, you are nothing like Sarah, whose media scrutiny arises from the profound and genuine threat she poses to the twisted, leftist power base of the United States. Kate also failed to mention that whenever her own media scrutiny begins to wane, she does anything she can to get it back – posing for some cheesy magazine in a bikini, crying on insipid women’s talk shows, trotting out the kids, being surgically enhanced – whatever it takes.

As the show ended, I was left lamenting the missed opportunity I had just witnessed. Before embarking on the camping trip, the Palins thought Gosselin might need some training in grizzly-country safety. Having had extensive training myself in this area, I couldn’t help but imagine a scene where the bear expert advises guest-star Kate that if she should stumble upon a lone grizzly cub out in the wilderness, by all means pick the little guy up, cuddle him and hug him, tickle his tummy, and feed him crackers and M&Ms. Little grizzly cubs just love this – especially when mama is nearby. To those of you who know what I’m saying here, well, those 15 minutes….over. Yep, sadly, a lost opportunity. Sigh. (Just kidding. Sort of.)

Sage Parental Advice from the Obamas for the New Year

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Just before jetting off recently for yet another of their luxury, multi-million-dollar sojourns in Hawaii, the Obamas took the time to offer yet more of their sage advice — mandated new year’s resolutions, if you will — to the peasants.

First, as part of Michelle Obama’s ongoing war against obesity (read that phrase any way you wish), the First Lady lauded the “Healthy, Hunger-Free Kids Act” that will regulate what children eat in federally funded meal programs. The cynical among us see this as only the first shot fired in Obama’s ongoing attempt to mandate what children eat in their own homes and restaurants, as well, evident from the FLOTUS’ illuminating comment at her husband’s signing of this act that “we can’t just leave it up to the parents.”

Obama continued, stating that “childhood obesity isn’t just a public health threat, it’s not just an economic threat, it’s a national security threat, as well” (oh, if only she, her husband and their rabidly devoted minions would describe extreme fundamental jihadists with those same words). But fear not, America. Though Mrs. Obama has targeted many of America’s best-loved foods for abolition in her war against this alleged national-security threat, let us take solace from the fact that she does from time to time grant us permission to partake of those forbidden, national-security-threatening foods. Indeed just this past November, she granted us permission to eat pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.

Not to be outshone by his wife, Barack Obama offered his own words of wisdom several days later, when he took time from his busy schedule as leader of the free world and commander-in-chief of the American armed forces to promote some children’s book, that, like several other books we might name, lists “Barack Obama” as the author. The leader of the free world’s topic on this day as he spoke to a group of Virginia schoolkids: poop scooping.

“….a lot of times, I walk Bo at night, and that’s fun,” a folksy Obama told the kids in reference to the dog he named after himself. “Sometimes I run around with Bo, although I have to — sometimes I have to scoop up his poop, because I don’t want to just leave it in the lawn.”

Obama continued, “So if you guys have a dog, you got to walk your dog, too, and clean up after him a little bit,” not only speaking down to the kids, but doing so with improper grammar, using an example that showed them what it means to be perfectly unpresidential. (It’s a safe bet he, shall we say, fudged the truth, as well, since we know there is no way he has ever scooped poop at the White House or anywhere else).  No word on whether Obama needed a teleprompter for this event, or if Bill Clinton was waiting in the wings to push him off the stage to offer the kids sage poop-scooping advice of his own.

Merry Christmas, 2010

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Here’s wishing all a very merry Christmas on this 25th day of December.  As the pastor said at the mass I attended this morning, may we all be grateful for our blessings – remembering today what we have, not what we don’t have.

In this spirit, may we also remember our men and women in the armed forces who are today far from their homes and families, sacrificing what they have to protect us and our freedoms.  Not a day goes by that I am not thankful to them for that great sacrifice, which is, and always has been, the heart and soul of America.  I pray they will know that the vast majority of us here on the homefront of this great nation we love, are grateful not only for that nation, but for them and their families, as well – on Christmas day and every day.

Pearl Harbor, a High School Debate, and Arming Our Daughters

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Sixty-nine years ago today, Japan ushered our nation into World War II with an early morning decimation of our Pacific Fleet in Pearl Harbor.  Imagine sitting in a typical American living room on that day of infamy, 1941, gathered with the family around the large domed ratio, listening to words from the tinny speakers almost too shocking to believe. Though I was not around in 1941 to have shared that moment, I, along with anyone reading this now, was alive and well on a terrible day in September 60 years later, when another early morning attack would, like Pearl Harbor, shake us to our core and usher us into a war with those hellbent on destroying our great nation.

Driven as I am always to find connections, I think, as well, today about a great debate that erupted organically in my son’s high school social studies class a week or so ago.  The topic: the necessity of war. As expected, many in the class regurgitated the tired liberal – fatally pre-programmed — axiom: War is never the answer. My son and his best friend held the opposing view – a view that will one day in such a setting earn them the title of “warmonger” or similar tired liberal labels. But they may take comfort from the countless souls in this world, past and present, who, in times of unspeakable circumstance and evil, are and would be forever grateful to those men and women who recognized when war was truly the only answer.

So I say to those who believe otherwise, go ahead and cling to your “war is never the answer” cliché. Ignore the suffering and salvation of victims and survivors of the Holocaust.  Ignore the suffering and salvation of men and women shackled and punished under despotic and primitive rules of “law.” And ignore the suffering and liberation of people throughout the world held as slaves and/or sentenced to the wonton cruelties and absurd policies of tyrants. Only then can you truly embrace the notion that “war is never the answer.” But for many, if not most of us, the enormity of the human suffering that has been relieved when one side takes up arms against another proves too powerful to ignore.

Which brings me to yet another connection: an article I stumbled upon yesterday on the Town Hall website entitled “Girls Just Want to Have Guns.” Here author Doug Giles discusses in graphic detail the atrocities committed against young women in our so-called feminist society – a sad and despicable state of affairs that could be averted if we only prepared our girls to declare war on the perpetrators with martial arts and weapons training.

Though the response to Mr. Giles’ piece was overwhelmingly supportive from people who obviously do wish to see their daughters, wives, moms, sisters and friends protected and prepared to fight when necessary, peppered throughout, as well, were the typical wimpy, worn anti-gun, kumbaya liberal “self-defense is never the answer” gibberish.

So once again the liberals tell us it’s just dandy to ignore a fascist dictator who is destroying an entire population with gas and ovens, because, you see, war is never the answer. Once again the liberals tell us they are perfectly content to allow tyrants to torture, maim and murder in a demented quest for power and entertainment, because, you see, war is never the answer. Indeed the morally and intellectually superior liberal types find it both commendable and necessary to accept rape, home invasion and indiscriminant murder, even against members of one’s own family, one’s own children, because, you see, war, guns, martial arts, knives, self-defense and self-protection are never the answer.

Pretty twisted viewpoint, if you ask me.  I’ll stick with those among us – the majority, I believe – who know that sometimes war is the only answer, whether that be war between nations or war waged by criminals and terrorists against our families on the homefront. And on this day, an infamous December 7th, I thank those men and women who gave their lives in Pearl Harbor that day, and every day before and after that day to keep our nation, our families and our children safe.

The Tipping Point Toward Fascism and a Young Boy in Salt Lake City

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We’re not in America anymore. While many of us have suspected this over the last few weeks in our slide toward fascism at America’s airports, it became official on November 19 when a young boy was stripped searched in public at Salt Lake City Airport as four TSA agents looked on.  The seach was naturally caught by cell phone by another passenger waiting for his own groping session, and it has gone viral on YouTube:

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSQTz1bccL4)

Disgusting, of course, was the sight itself of the small boy’s bare back as he was checked for weapons and explosives, but even more disgusting, more disturbing, more pornographic even, was the site of the TSA  agents standing watch – particularly the burly female in the bunch, who we will call Ilsa/Eva for obvious, rather chilling, reasons. She stands watching with a look of satisfaction on her face, her beefy arms crossed across her chest.

I felt nauseous after I viewed this footage. Who are these people? What country is this? And I am left thinking that of those TSA agents, I must believe that at least one (please more than one) watched this happening, knew how very wrong, how despicably disgraceful and fundamentally un-American this spectacle was. And I pray that today that one, whoever he or she is (could have been Ilsa/Eva), is berating himself or herself for not stepping in and saying simply: “Stop!”

But no such admonition came.  How empowering it would have been not only for that young boy being exploited so horribly by the Obama administration, but for our nation as a whole.  But, sadly, that simple word – “Stop!” — never came.The moment, that lost moment of redemption and salvation, became instead, once and for all, the tipping point to fascism.

No one is more pleased to see that lost opportunity replaced by this tipping point than Barack Obama, his wife, his handlers and his followers. Remember, too, that the timing of the groping and strip searches and all-out fascism that has erupted over the weeks following the democrat electoral bloodbath of November 2nd  is no coincidence.  We the people are to be punished for that bloodbath, and we are witnessing that punishment today and every day at America’s airports.  We can only hope that when a moment of redemption and salvation presents itself again, the good people in positions of authority who believe in this country will at last stand up and say “Stop!”