idiots, applebee’s, and a gun that shoots machetes

Posted on April 12, 2013 by greg

This guy? His name is Jeff Duncan. He’s a Congressman from South Carolina, serving his second term in the House of Representatives. He’s an idiot.

Congressman Jeff Duncan, Republican Idiot

I know, I know…it’s rude and juvenile to call people names. But I don’t really consider this as name-calling. It’s more of a political taxonomy — a system of classification. Jeff Duncan falls into the class of Republican Idiot.

I base that classification entirely on statements made by Jeff Duncan his ownself. For example, there was the time when Duncan believed President Obama was somehow going to issue an Executive Order that would…well, he wasn’t quite sure what the Executive Order would do, but it was something about guns, and dammit Jeff Duncan was not going to stand for it. Whatever it was. Or might have been. If Obama had actually done it. Which he didn’t. But this is what Duncan said in response to the Executive Order That Didn’t Exist Dealing with Something about Guns:

“The Founding Fathers never envisioned Executive Orders being used to restrict our Constitutional rights. We live in a republic, not a dictatorship. I will use every means at my disposal to combat the agenda of the Executive branch to undermine our Second Amendment rights. I will also fight any legislative action that is taken to implement more gun control. Americans don’t want their Second Amendment freedoms restricted in any way.”

A dictatorship? That’s idiotic on two levels. First, I guess it never occurred to Duncan that in an actual no-shit dictatorship anybody who suggested the president was a dictator would have a short shelf life. But Duncan felt perfectly safe in publicly suggesting the president is a dictator. Perhaps he thought President Obama just wasn’t a very good dictator, because any dictator who’d put up with Jeff Duncan would need some remedial dictatorship lessons. The second reason this was idiotic is because there was no such Executive Order. This is all based on something Duncan believed the president might be considering. Not even something he thought Obama might do; just something he thought he might be thinking about doing.

But okay, everybody over-reacts on occasion. You can over-react without being an idiot. If those comments were the extent of Jeff Duncan’s foolishness, I’d be reluctant to classify him as an idiot. But he’s built on that foundation of idiocy.

Jeff Duncan likes him some guns. That doesn’t make him an idiot, either. A lot of smart people like guns. But anybody who thinks he needs to be able to tote a firearm into Applebee’s in case he might need to shoot somebody for some reason (because you know how lawless Applebee’s is), well that person is an idiot. Duncan complained that the South Carolina legislature refused to pass a law permitting people to carry concealed weapons in establishments serving alcohol.

“[W]e can’t even pass [a law] to allow CWP (concealed weapon permit) holders to eat inside restaurants like Applebees and Ruby Tuesdays because they have a bar.”

Of course, CWP holders can eat in an Applebee’s in South Carolina. They just have to leave their firearms in their vehicles. Jeff Duncan is far more at risk from eating the desserts at Applebee’s than from its rowdy clientele*.

Troublemakers and hooligans hanging out at Applebee’s

In case there was any doubt left about Duncan, he established his Idiot bona fides recently by posting a lengthy screed on his Facebook page. Here’s some of what he says:

There is a reason that some want to end private gun ownership, limit ammo purchases, limit magazine capacity…. Ask yourselves about a National gun registry database and how that might be used and why it is so wanted by progressives.

Read about the Rwandan genocide, the Hutu and Tutsi tribes. Read that all Tutsi tribe members were required to register their address with the Hutu government and that this database was used to locate Tutsi for slaughter at the hands of the Hutu. (Since the government had the names and addresses of nearly all Tutsis living in Rwanda (remember, each Rwandan had an identity card that labeled them Tutsi, Hutu, or Twa) the killers could go door to door, slaughtering the Tutsis. Not with firearms, mind you, but with machetes.

I use this example to warn that national databases can be used with evil consequences.

That’s right, Congressman Jeff Duncan is apparently afraid that ‘progressives’ want a ‘National gun registry database’ so they can can go door to door and slaughter decent gun owners. With machetes.

Unidentified ‘progressive’ with a gun that shoots machetes

Is there any legislation under consideration by Congress that includes a national gun registry database? No, there is not. Is there a Federal law prohibiting the creation of a national gun registry? Yes, there is — since 1986. Is the United States in 2013 just like Rwanda in 1994? No, it’s not, and you’d have to be an idiot to think so.

Jeff Duncan is no natural-born idiot. He’s come by his idiocy the old-fashioned way; he earned it.

Editorial note: In Duncan’s defense, a 30 year old man and his girlfriend were shot in the parking lot of an Applebee’s restaurant in Georgia in January of 2012, following a play-off game between the New Orleans Saints and the San Francisco Forty-Niners. The shooter, a Saints fan, got into an argument with the victim (oddly enough, not a Forty-Niners fan – just a guy cheering on the team because his girlfriend was a fan). The shooter was forced to go to the parking lot to get his pistol, since it’s illegal to carry a concealed weapon in a bar in Georgia. The shooter was then forced to wait for two more hours until the victim and his girlfriend left Applebee’s, at which time he shot them. If Duncan had his way, the poor shooter would not have had to waste those two hours.

two of this, two of that

Posted on April 10, 2013 by greg

Occasionally I’ll take a walk with the specific intent to shoot photographs. More often, though, I take a walk just to…well, to take a walk. To get out of the house, to breathe some fresh air, to stretch the muscles and make the blood pump just a wee bit faster. And it helps me clear out the cobwebs when I’m having writing issues — like when I’m unable to think of a metaphor and I have to resort to a cliché like ‘clear out the cobwebs.’

Sometimes when I take a walk, I’ll stick my little Fujifilm X10 in a pocket. I almost never take it out. Almost never is another way of saying Sometimes I do. On a strangely warm morning back in January, I did. I took the camera out because as I walked through a small suburban park, I saw these two trees:

Here’s the problem. I’ve been working on a novel for a while. A novel is as much an exercise in persistence as anything else. I’ve published a lot of short fiction in various genres, I’ve published several nonfiction books, but I’ve only published one novel. So I very much want to get this novel manuscript finished and out the door. But I’m also heartily weary of the damned thing. Don’t get me wrong; I think the manuscript is good — but at this point I know everything there is to know about the characters and the plot. That leaves me with nothing to do but put words in a row. That’s not easy, of course. They have to be the right words. And that can be fun sometimes. But the real fun of writing fiction is, for me, the bit where you’re actively making shit up.

Why is that a problem? It’s a problem because it means my mind has already moved on to other projects. My mind can be a real asshole. When I take a walk, instead of thinking about my current project, my mind is kicking around ideas for the future. So when I saw those two trees, my mind began to build a scene around them. An anonymous guy running slowly between them. A guy running from something? Or toward something?

I turned around to see what he’d be running toward. And I saw these two horses:

Here’s another part of the problem. I’ve only written for an adult audience. Not ‘adult’ as in ‘adult movies’ but adult as in ‘not young folks.’ But a lot of the most creative fiction I’ve read over the last couple of years has been in the Young Adult genre. I find myself wanting to write a YA novel. Most of the fiction I’ve published has been in the mystery and detective fiction field — and I’d like to try something altogether different. Over the last few years I’ve been drawn to the sort of world-building that takes place in fantasy fiction. However, I can’t really abide stuff with dragons and wizards, or magic swords, or those grand epic stories in which the pot-boy turns out to be the bastard-heir to the throne. If I ever write anything like that, you have my permission to stab me.

I much prefer stories that drop ordinary folks into extraordinary situations. So I’ve been wanting to write a YA novel revolving around a fairly ordinary kid who gets caught up in a situation having fantasy overtones. When I saw those two trees and those two horses, my asshole mind began to concoct an opening scene. An ordinary kid sitting on the bench near the horses sees an anonymous guy running slowly in his direction from between those two trees. The kid, of course, would be the protagonist. And the kid would have to be asking the very same question I was asking myself as a writer.

Tension. It’s almost always the driving force in fiction, and it often expresses itself in some form of question. Like Who is that guy and why is he running towards me?

I kept walking and considering possible answers to that question, and soon found myself behind the local Salvation Army store, where there was a rubbish hatch tucked away between two bollards. A great place to hide, if somebody was chasing you. But who is being chased? The kid? The guy? Maybe both of them? Maybe the guy was being chased until he met the kid, and now the kid is being chased by whoever was chasing the guy?

I checked the rubbish hatch; it was locked from the inside (of course it was — this is real life). But one of the advantages fiction has over real life is that it doesn’t have to completely conform to reality. It only has to conform enough to be believable. There are a lot of ways to deal with a locked rubbish hatch. But what we’re after at this point is tension, and one way to ratchet up tension is to offer a release from the tension — then snatch it away. You show the protagonist (and the reader) the convenient rubbish hatch, you let them think a solution has been found. then you turn the apparent solution into another problem.

This is how writers torture readers and make them happy.

I walked along, thinking of various ways to construct the scene. You’d want the kid (and maybe the guy) desperately trying to open the hatch, looking back over his/her/their shoulder for whoever the hell is chasing him/her/them. Maybe have the kid and the guy (if he’s there — and there would be some distinct structural advantages to having the guy there) run off together. Maybe have them run off separately, never to meet again. Maybe have them run off separately, only to meet later in the story. Maybe have the kid run off and the guy stay behind to face whoever is doing the chasing — give the kid a chance to escape. So many options.

As I walked I saw two potential avenues of escape. The first, a shiny railroad track passing between two crossing signals. Hop a slow-moving freight train? Maybe one that picks up speed and becomes too dangerous to hop off? Lots of potential there — an ordinary kid sitting in a suburban park, and half an hour later he (or she, of course) is on an express freight high-balling out of town toward some unknown destination.

The second, by turning the other direction you see two muddy ruts leading to some old out-buildings.

More places to hide. And who knows what might be stashed away in those out-buildings? Farm implements, maybe. Rows of high-stacked pallets filled with potting soil and fertilizer and grass seed. Maybe rusting circus equipment. Or a meth lab. I spent the rest of the walk thinking of things that might be found in those buildings — everything from a secret missile defense system to the bastard heir to the throne who’d been turned into a dragon by a wizard with a magic sword. (I told you my mind can be a real asshole.)

That was back at the end of January. This is early April. Over the intervening two months I’ve continued to grudgingly work on the existing novel manuscript — but almost every time I set out on an idle walk, my asshole mind returns to this story idea.

An ordinary kid sitting alone in a park at dusk, a stranger slowly running towards him.

20×13 [+30]

Posted on April 5, 2013 by greg

Terri Bell is a terrific artist who runs her own gallery in Denver — a thoroughly delightful and charming woman. Last October I got a note from her asking if I’d consider being a juror for a photography exhibit she was planning. I didn’t have to consider it at all. I agreed immediately. Who wouldn’t want to work with T. Bell?

The project was limited to black and white photographs, but the subject matter was wide open. Thirteen jurors with varied backgrounds and skills would review the photographs offered for submission, then render their thirteen different opinions. The twenty photos that received the most positive attention would then be hung in Terri’s gallery. I’ve been a juror in these sorts of things before; picking twenty photos without regard to genre sounded like it would be fun and interesting. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, as they say.

I wasn’t expecting — I don’t think anybody was expecting — so many photographs would be submitted. How many? About 480. Four hundred and eighty! Out of which we were expected to pick twenty? What had originally sounded like a fun, interesting project turned out to be…well, fun and interesting. It took a bit more time effort than I’d originally expected, but I didn’t regret a moment of the time I spent on the gig. There was a LOT of really good work there.

The exhibit opened March 29th and continues until April 14th. If you’re anywhere in the Denver area, go see it.

But I’m not writing this to plug Terri’s show (though seriously, go see it if you can). I’m writing this because a couple days ago I received a package from Terri. I opened the box and found a nest of black tissue paper, beautifully crinkled. Inside the tissue — a black envelope and a slim package wrapped in elegant glossy white wrapping paper, tied with a black satin ribbon and bow. The black envelope contained a white card; the white wrapping paper contained the show catalog (which can be purchased here).

It’s not unusual, when you act as a juror, to receive a copy of the show catalog. What is unusual is the extraordinary care and thoughtfulness and artfulness Terri put into the packaging of the catalog. It says a great deal about Terri as a person and as an artist that she would pay such close attention to detail.

I love the show catalog.The photography is brilliant. I’m very pleased to have played a small role in the project. But I think what I’ll remember most about this entire process is slowly unwrapping the package.

You’ll note that the title of the catalog is 20×13 [+30]. That’s because the book not only contains the twenty photographs selected for the exhibition, but also thirty more that are so damned good they could be hung as well.

it’s irrefutable

Posted on April 4, 2013 by greg

I’m a relatively smart guy. You know what the problem is with being a relatively smart guy? The problem is it’s hard to believe that other people can be so incredibly fucking stupid.

I know that sounds arrogant, and that bothers me. But it doesn’t alter the fact that there are some astonishingly stupid people out there — and some of them are in Congress. The depth and breadth of their stupidity is so massive it can’t be covered in a single blog entry. It can’t be covered in a single book. There are people in both houses of Congress who are stupid on an encyclopedic scale; it would take multiple volumes to cover the extent of their stupidity. But right now I’m just thinking about their stupidity on the current United Nations Arms treaty.

Senator Jerry Moran, R-Kansas, Pretty Fucking Stupid

If you’re not aware of it, the U.N. has spent the last seven years banging out an agreement that will establish some minimal controls on the international gun trade. We’re talking about tanks, military drones, armored combat vehicles, large-caliber artillery systems, combat aircraft, attack helicopters, warships, missiles and missile launchers, AND small arms sold in bulk. The controls are based on whether the weapons “will be used to break humanitarian law, foment genocide or war crimes, abet terrorism or organized crime or slaughter women and children.” It’s aimed at curbing the major arms dealers, the corporations (and nations) that deal in bulk weapon sales.

The treaty was passed, 154 to 3. The three nations that voted against the treaty? North Korea, Syria, and Iran. The U.S. approved the treaty, but it needs to be ratified by Congress. And here comes the stupid. There are a LOT of Republicans (and, sadly, some Democrats) who are siding with North Korea. Why? Because, despite all the evidence, this nitwits believe the U.N. treaty will inevitably lead to the confiscation of firearms from gun owners in the U.S. That is some serious stupid, right there.

Senator Mike Lee, R-Utah, Pretty Fucking Stupid

“I am gravely concerned this treaty will infringe upon the Second Amendment rights of American gun owners.” — Senator Jerry Moran

“I have great concerns that this treaty can be used to violate the Second Amendment rights of American citizens.” — Senator Mike Lee

“This U.N. treaty takes away Constitutional authority; it diminishes the Constitution, it gives up Constitutional rights to a U.N. authority that should not exist. Anyone who votes for this U.N. treaty is violating their oath to support and defend the Constitution. It’s that simple.” — Representative Louie Gohmert

Let me just repeat the purpose of the treaty. It’s to make it more difficult for major arms exporters to sell weapons in bulk to governments or political movements or other military entities who are likely to use those weapons to 1) violate humanitarian law, 2) engage in genocide or war crimes, 3) engage in terrorism or organized crime, 4) or slaughter women and children.

Representative Louie Gohmert, R-Texas, Incredibly Stupid

Representative Louie Gohmert, R-Texas, Incredibly Fucking Stupid

The treaty would have NO effect at all on anybody’s ability to walk into a gun shop and buy any gun they can afford. In order to believe the treaty would somehow infringe on the Second Amendment, you’d have to be really paranoid and pretty fucking stupid.

How paranoid and fucking stupid? Paranoid and fucking stupid enough to believe the treaty includes provisions to ban people 55 and older from owning a weapon. That notion is circulating widely among conservatives. NO, I’m NOT making this up.

Why do they believe that? Because 1) U.N. Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon is said (I can find no record of this statement) to have expressed an opinion that people who’ve been “adjudicated mentally defective and persons with attenuating cerebral faculties” probably shouldn’t own weapons because they could be a danger to themselves. And because 2) somebody in Amnesty International pointed out that research shows “a significant majority of gun-related suicides, accidental shootings, non-fatal negligent discharges are perpetrated by persons 55 and over.” So therefore: 3) the United Nations is going to seize the guns of everybody over age 55, and that’s just the first step to 4) confiscating ALL THE GUNS.

I know, I know…that defies any semblance of normal logic. But logic is weak armor against stupid, especially when stupid is driven by fear. Want proof? Here’s Rep. Gohmert’s argument against limiting firearm magazines to ten rounds:

“[W]hy would you draw the line at ten? What’s wrong with nine? Or eleven? And the problem is once you draw that limit; it’s kind of like marriage when you say it’s not a man and a woman any more, then why not have three men and one woman, or four women and one man, or why not somebody has a love for an animal?”

Got that? If you limit ammunition to ten rounds pretty soon people will be marrying goats. And that slippery slope will inevitably lead to laws requiring us to speak French and eat soft communist cheeses. You can’t refute that logic.

louche

Posted on April 2, 2013 by greg

Louche. I can’t recall the first time I encountered this word, but I immediately fell in love with it. I’d no idea what the definition of louche was, but I knew exactly what it meant.

Checking a dictionary simply confirmed it.

Louche, adjective:
1) of questionable taste or morality; decadent
2) not reputable or decent; shady, dubious, seedy

What else could it possibly mean? I was attracted to the word partly by the way it comes out of your mouth. Loosh. You have to make a sort of kissy-face to say it.

It’s French, of course. How could it not be? From the Old French term lousche or lois, which apparently meant ‘cross-eyed’ or ‘squint-eyed.’ That came from the Latin lusca, which is the feminine form of luscus which meant ‘one-eyed.’

You can almost see it, can’t you. A man peering squint-eyed through the half-gloom of evening at a woman wearing a red smear of lipstick. A louche scenario.

But louche isn’t just an adjective; it’s also a noun and a verb. As a noun it describes the cloudiness that comes from a suspension of fine particles in a liquid. As a verb it describes the act of suspending those particles. That sounds so very scientific, but it can be an almost erotic act of decadence.

When preparing absinthe to drink, one first pours the liquor into a glass. A slotted spoon is laid across the rim of the glass. A cube of sugar is placed on the spoon. Ice-cold water is then very slowly dripped over the sugar, dissolving it into the absinthe. The absinthe itself is highly alcoholic — forty-five to eighty percent alcohol combined with anise, fennel, and other medicinal herbs. The high alcohol content keeps the herbal oils in suspension. The higher the alcohol content, the more oils the absinthe can hold. The introduction of cold sugar-water causes the herbal oils in the absinthe to become cloudy, creating a sort of milky opalescence and releasing the aromas and scents of the herbs. The cloudiness is called the louche.

Decadent. Of questionable taste or morality. Disreputable. Shady. Louche.

Which explains why, when I was recently walking down 5th Street as evening approached and shadows began to obscure and conceal parts of the world, I passed a bright red doorway glancing at me sideways out of the darkness, the first word that came to my mind was louche.

seriously, do something

Posted on March 31, 2013 by greg

Remember when all those six year old kids were shot and killed while at school in Connecticut? Remember how that was going to change everything? Remember the outrage and the horror and how finally the government would get its shit in order and do something about gun violence?

And remember how the National Rifle Association said that horror and outrage was just an emotional response to a tragedy and people would quickly forget.\?

The NRA was right. They were right when they said the outrage and horror was an emotional response — because you’re supposed to be fucking emotional when a couple dozen six year old boys and girls are slaughtered. If you don’t have an emotional response to children being shot 150 times in five minutes then you’re some sort of fucking Terminator.

This Tom Latham, my Congressman - I wrote him, I called him

This is Tom Latham, my Congressman – I wrote him, I called him

And the NRA was right when they said people would forget. Congress has basically abandoned the assault-style weapons ban. Admittedly, that legislation wouldn’t do much good — but it would do any harm. Even a little good is better than no harm. Congress is facing a difficult struggle to pass a watered down universal background check, and might not even be able to pass a straw buyer law. Despite the overwhelming support of the public, Congress may just stand around with its thumb up its collective ass. Again.

And you know why? Because Congress is scared of the NRA and they’re not scared of you. Because the NRA is leaning on Congress and you’re not. Because the NRA is speaking directly to the people who’ll vote on the legislation and you’re not.

This is Tom Harkin, one of my Senators – I called him, I wrote him

Oh, you’re answering polls and saying you want effective legislation passed. You’re on Facebook sharing articles on gun violence and ‘liking’ photographs insulting the NRA. But who gives a rat’s ass about that? You’re not calling or writing your Congressional representatives and telling them that your vote in the next election depends on their vote on commonsense gun safety legislation.

Don’t blame Congress if this legislation fails. Blame your ownself. You can have an impact, but only if you’re willing to take a few minutes and do something. And folks, it really only takes a few minutes.

If you don’t know who your representatives are, you can get that information here. The most effective way to reach your representative is write an actual letter. Like on paper. With an inkpen. Put it in an envelope and mail it. Seriously. That shit gets read. And it carries weight. But if writing a letter cuts too deeply into your day, use the telephone. A phone call is the second most effective approach. Email? Not very effective at all. And those mass email petitions are almost totally worthless.

This is what you do: give them your actual name. Tell them your zip code, so they can be sure you live in their district (if you can’t vote for or against them, they’re not going to care what your opinion is). Clearly identify the specific issue you’re contacting them about, let them know you feel strongly, and let them know your vote is on the line.

This is Chuck Grassley, one of my Senators – I wrote him, I called him

We get the government we deserve, sad to say. So for fuck’s sake, people, do something. Write your legislators. Call their offices. It won’t take long and it won’t cost much money.

Do it even if you don’t think it will do any good. One of my legislators is Chuck Grassley, as big an asshole as you’ll ever meet. He’s opposed to even the most reasonable limits on firearms, and there’s nothing I can say that will change his vote. I wrote him anyway. I called his office anyway. Because if this jerk is purporting to represent me, then I’m damned well going to make my positions clear to him.

My other congressional representatives both support sensible gun safety measures. So I called and wrote telling them how much I appreciate their efforts and they can count on my vote and my support. They like hearing that.

Here’s the thing: we don’t have to get every vote. We just need to get enough votes. We just need to convince a few moderate Democrats and Republicans that they don’t have to kiss the NRA’s ass. But they’re not going to act unless we do.

equal justice under law

Posted on March 29, 2013 by greg

I’ve met one Justice of the Supreme Court. Well, two if you’re willing to count Thurgood Marshall — but that was in 1993 and Thurgood Marshall was dead at the time. You can’t really say you’ve ‘met’ somebody just because you looked at his coffin lying in state in the Great Hall of the United States Supreme Court building. I did meet Nina Totenberg that day, sorta kinda; she was interviewing some of the people standing in line to meet Thurgood Marshall’s coffin. She didn’t interview me, but she smiled at me when I said “Hi Nina.” She has a nice smile. When you’re standing in a long line on a cold January morning to look at somebody’s coffin, a nice smile means a lot.

The Supreme Court Justice I did meet was Antonin Scalia. I met him at Heathrow Airport in London. I was arriving to help conduct a summer course in International Justice Systems. I’m not sure why Justice Scalia was in London. Probably wanted to experiment in fucking up a judicial system that’s older than ours.

My colleague spotted Scalia behind us in the airport, and paused a moment in order to meet him. I paused as well, because I’m not a total jerk. My colleague introduced the both of us and told him why we were there. He shook Scalia’s hand. Scalia, to his credit, said something gracious and encouraging, then turned to me.

Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court, Antonin Scalia

I didn’t extend my hand. Neither did he. It was immediately clear to both of us that we were mortal enemies.

Then he moved on. I’m absolutely convinced he could hear what I was thinking, though. What I was thinking was this: “You, sir, are no Thurgood Marshall.”

I do not like Justice Scalia. I’ll grudgingly admit he’s brilliant and articulate jurist, but he’s also a judicial hypocrite. He claims to be a Constitutional originalist and textualist, but he never seems reluctant to treat the U.S. Constitution as a living document when it suits his ideology. For example, Scalia has stated the 14th Amendment (which, among other things, guarantees equal protection under the law) doesn’t necessarily apply to women or gay folks since it was crafted after the Civil War for the purpose of preventing racial discrimination. Yet during the 2000 election crisis, in Bush v. Gore, Scalia used that same 14th Amendment and that same equal protection argument to decide to stop the Florida recount. (Do I need to point out that George W. Bush was not a victim of racial discrimination?)

Justice Marshall was — still is — a hero to me. Not just because he was a civil rights lawyer at a time when that was a dangerous occupation, but because he never lost his compassion for common folks or his zeal for protecting the civil rights of all people. Antonin Scalia used the 14th Amendment to insure George Bush would be elected president; Thurgood Marshall used the 14th Amendment to end racial segregation of public schools.

Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, Thurgood Marshall

I was a doctoral student at American University when Marshall died in January of 1993. Three days later, his coffin was lying in state in the Supreme Court building, on the same catafalque that had held Abraham Lincoln’s. Instead of attending class, I joined the long, subdued line of people standing in the cold, waiting to pay their respects. You hear that phrase a lot, paying respect. This was one of those instances when the phrase was entirely accurate.

I don’t know how many people passed by his coffin. Thousands. All kinds of people. People in suits, of course, since this was Washington, D.C. But also people in military uniform, young folks in jeans, old black women who’d dressed in their Sunday outfits that Wednesday. What moved me the most, though, was the number of working folks who showed up. Regular people, standing in long lines, outside in the January air, come to pay their respects to a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

They closed the doors at ten o’clock that night. I’d already gone home by then, but I heard about it. The people still outside waiting got to see Marshall’s coffin carried out of the Great Hall and down the steps. If you’ve never been to the Supreme Court Building, it looks pretty much like any other governmental structure in DC. But above the door, these words are carved: Equal Justice Under Law. Thurgood Marshall believed in those words, and he made a great many other people believe in them as well.

Young Thurgood Marshall on the steps of the U.S. Supreme Court

Antonin Scalia is probably smarter than Thurgood Marshall was. He’s maybe more articulate than Marshall was. He’s more forceful on the bench than Marshall was. But on that day in the future when Scalia is laid to rest, how many people will associate his name with Equal Justice Under Law? How many people do you think will be willing to take a day off work and stand for hours outside in the cold in order to pay their respects?

a couple of quick thoughts on marriage equality

Posted on March 26, 2013 by greg

First thing this morning I got an email from an acquaintance calling me out for not supporting marriage equality by changing my Facebook profile photo to the equality sign.

“i assumed you supportd marriage equality. but you didn’t change your fb profile pic. whats up with that.”

What’s up with that is pretty simple. I do support marriage equality but I don’t feel like I need to change my Facebook profile photo to prove it. I think it’s extraordinarily cool that so many folks have changed their Facebook profiles. It’s just not me, though.

Same sex marriage has been legal here since 2009, when the Iowa Supreme Court ruled unanimously there was no legal basis for denying a same sex couple the right to marry. It’s a done deal here. Ain’t nobody been hurt by it — which is no surprise to anybody but bigots. There are still some Republicans who try to pass legislation reversing the court’s ruling, but basically same sex weddings have become routine here. Nobody notices.

Another thing — all those polls saying a majority of the American public approves of same sex marriages. That’s great and all, but really public opinion shouldn’t be the arbiter of whether or not a thing is right. Same sex couples ought to be able to marry whether the public approves of it or not. It’s just the right thing to do.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad attitudes are changing. Today and tomorrow are important days in the struggle for marriage equality. But regardless of what the Supreme Court decides, I’m absolutely confident that marriage equality will eventually happen. It’s inevitable. Sooner is better than later, of course, and I’d love to see SCOTUS make a sweeping decision that it’s unconstitutional to deny same-sex couples the right to marry. But if they don’t, then we’ll just have to keep on fighting. Because it’s going to happen.

In the meantime, though, here:

gregfallis.com

it's this or get a real job