The Politics Of Words

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” ~Constitution of the United States of America.

The first sentence of The U.S. constitution contains what appears to be a grammatical error. When the published copy of the Constitution was hung up for the world to see. The union of politics and words became further interlinked, as they have always been.

Thomas Jefferson’s use of “more perfect” has sparked the literary mind. One school of thought offers perfect is total unison, nothing could ever be more perfect. To be more perfect would mean what ever was perfect was never perfect until the point it was perfect.

Another school of thought offers “more perfect” is correct grammar as perfect is an exaggerated word. Nothing is ever perfect and to have the sense of entitlement to use perfect invites the use of “more perfect”.

No matter which school of thought you fall into, we learn about the nature of grammar from our constitution. The laws and rules of grammar are debated, changed, and tangible.

A writer must understand why he uses one word or another, as a politician must understand why he votes for one bill or another. When a writer goes to print, his job is to defend his word. When a Politician goes to vote, his job is to defend his vote.

If a writer’s grammar is weak, he will look like a fool to the literary world. If a Politician is uninformed, he will look like a fool to the televised public. We can see many places were the life of a politician and a writer have intertwined skills sets.

Grammar has politics of its own. One filled with strange rules and amendments.

In the beginning, there was “I Am.” The prefect sentence with a noun and an action. “I”, the noun, states a person place or thing and “am” ,an action, denotes a state of existing. “I am” means I exist, only with less letters.

The job for a writer is to explain themselves in a way that pays tribute to the first sentence. Writers pay tribute in many different ways. Hemingway was known for his understated use of words, while Twain offered verbose alternatives to “I Am.”

Both authors are debated and they both could defend their use of words. They knew the politics of words.

In the coming installments, we shall explore the politics of words. No system is free from politics. The infusion of free will leads to interaction and inevitably to politics.

Politics are the process by which people choose to make decisions. Similarly, grammar is the process by which people choose to communicate.

Grammar and Politics are subjective and we all fear the day when acronyms like “TTYL” and “LOL” find their way into our spell check as the day when a politician’s abuse of our freedoms finds its way into our law.

How would such a change occur? Through the debate of people who understand the subtle nuances and it’s time for us to join the debate.

Count of Monte Cristo

1

Monte Cristo Sandwhich

Monte Cristo

Two thick bits of Holla
Two Slices of Turkey
And two thin hunks of ham

Two melted Holy swiss
One on top and bottom
Served with sugar and jam

2

Monte Cristo Sandwhich

Monte Cristo

Two thick bits of Holla
Two Slices of Turkey
And two thin hunks of ham

Two melted Holy swiss
One on top and bottom
Served with sugar and jam

3

Monte Cristo Sandwhich

Monte Cristo

Two thick bits of Holla
Two Slices of Turkey
And two thin hunks of ham

Two melted Holy swiss
One on top and bottom
Served with sugar and jam

 

 

Gay Step in the Right Direction

My Fellow Americans,

Sam's Your Uncle Cover

Sam's Your Uncle

I start by asking you to imagine your wedding day. Loved ones gathered around a white building to celebrate the love, you and your spouse share. A minister stands proudly at the alter to join a pair of pew members in holy matrimony.

Certainly the mental picture of Marriage is a part of the American dream. Though that dream continues to be little more than pipe illusions for many Americans. Yet that utopia is not entirely up in smoke.

This week, the Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled Proposition 8, Eliminates Rights of Same-Sex Couples to Marry, to be unconstitutional.

Judge Stephen Reinhardt said “Prop 8 serves no purpose, and has no effect, other than to lessen the status and human dignity of gays and lesbians in California, and to officially reclassify their relationships and families as inferior to those of opposite-sex couples,”

And while a portion of us might be outraged, his step marks a giant leap for the intent of our constitution.

Many of us appear to forget the intention of our constitution and the glory of our country. We are the land of the free! Free to decide which church we decide to worship at and who that church considers for marriage.

Far too often we see the image of Homosexuals taking their marital vows on the steps of city hall or in Vegas style chaplains. We are quick to forget that many homosexuals are active members of congregations. Their religion, outside from your opinion of their faith, is of equal importance under the law.

“All men are created equal.”

The United States’ Declaration of Independence states that all men are created equal, whether they were born on our planet or another. While We, as the American Government, can only dictate the laws of the people who are born within the boarders of the U.S.A.

Same sex couples

Marry them soon

Therefore our Constitution was written with the intent that all American Men, as meaning humans, are equal under our laws. To further our understanding, a Bill of Rights was added to further protect the intent of a free land.

Our first amendment states that congress shall pass no law against religion or prohibit their free exercise. In the first amendment we can see how the “Defense of Marriage Act” is unconstitutional.

US Citizen -N.- A person born in the United States, or naturalized, holding a US passport.

Now these people make me mad enough to eat my Star spangled top hat. And don’t even mention the problems Ellen and JC Penny are having with the One Million(rounded to the nearest million) Moms.

Though the sad spice in the mix of happiness of this week’s news becomes that homosexuals continue to be denied their religious right to get hitched in the eyes of their God and Government.

As long as this continues, the American Dream is only that. A factious facade granted to no one. Not only for Gays but for the rest of the population who may one day want to live a life that is different from our social norms.

The good book says “Treat thy neighbor as you would be treated.” Do you wanted to be told your religion is stupid? Do you want to be told your relationships are inferior?

The correct answer to both questions is no. Yet so many of the bible thumpers are quick to limit the freedom of others. A great paradox is their religion is based upon free will.

To further our perspective of these crimes against humanity, those who support actions to limit civil freedoms from their fellow countrymen are dividing our country’s unity.

In a time of this depression, we are constantly asked to bring unity and those who divide us are the true terrorist. I, as a symbol of your faded glory, believe we should do everything in our power to restore the rights of all Americans.

Americans be warned. You are for the rights of all Americans or you should be on the first buss to Guantanamo.

Until next time, talk about united civil rights with someone.
Uncle Sam

Irish Guilt

“Oh I Am, what happened last night?”

After a night drenched in liberated spirits, some people say the worst part is the hangover. The pound of gray matter against the skull. The explosive reaction to sunlight reflected off white walls. The ache from every joint in the body. Surly, each aliment is hell but nothing compares to the guilt.

“No, really. What did I do?”

The answer to this question turned Bukowski dark and left Ireland sedated by the British. The real curse of the Irish. Not the limp of a dink, as if a fault of the phallus is a curse to the over populated. Nothing compares to the conjured ghosts of shot glass past, summoned forth to reap their havoc in slighted mental shows. Lamp shade nightmares bubble to the surface and join the heart upon the sleeve.

“Really? Am I that daft?”

Children learn by one burn from the stove’s hot top. I do this every weekend and add mental retardation to the list of my deficiency. Doubly so as the splintered bits of recollection are collected from the editing floor. A strip here, a segment there, drama displayed in a 50 foot horror show, “Attack of the Drunken Boob”.

“I am never getting out of bed.”

Doom and Gloom are kiddy rhymes in the bed of shattered memories. Broken conversation take demonic faces and laugh with a Jackal’s jowl. Worst than a bad acid trip, the flashes flood back to the cortex in uncontrollable spasms. Watch thy own self fallen down the bottom of the barrel.

“Or ever drink again!”

More promises to break in the weeks, days, hours, and minutes to come. The hair of the dog eases the pain and temporarily breaks the lycanthrope curse. I can stand on my hind legs and walk like a man. Free to take one down, pass it around, and wake to more horror in the morning.

The Lost Goddess By Tom Knox

History is a bitter mistress to those who seek to uncover her mysteries. “The Lost Goddess“, out today, is a fictional book about characters who risk their life and limb to drudge up the past and confront the outcome. Yet, while the story is conjured, the foundation is firmly set upon real world experiences.

The Lost Goddess

The Lost Goddess By Tom Knox

From the Author of “The Genesis Secret” and “The Marks of Cain“, comes a thrill ride adventure through the sordid nooks and crannies of our academic world.

“The Lost Goddess” is the story of “civilized” travelers and their journey to discover the truth from the villages and governments who want the world to forget.

The story opens in a remote part of France, where Julia Kerrigan, a young archaeologist, is at the end of a what seems to be a fruitless journey to find a reason behind her prolonged sabbatical. Though even as her hopes dwindle, her tools uncover what could be the find of her life. A trove of undiscovered skeletons, many with strange holes in the heads and ancient arrowheads riddled through their bones.

And in Cambodia, an equally lost soul Jake Thurby, who has been traveling the Jungles as a Photo-journalist, teams up with Chemda Tek, an American educated returning native, as she seeks to uncover the mysteries behind the Plain of Jars, where Pol Pot had knowingly sent many of his educated citizens into a live mind field. To discover the reason behind his motivation, the pair are set upon a deadly course.

Though it’s not long before tragedy strikes all around. Jake and Chemda arrive at their hotel to find a body hung in the doorway over a pool of blood. Back in France, Julia’s mentor is also viciously murdered. A demonic killer, born and breed on vengeance, lurks in the background and weaves the loom that threads together a history of violence that continues to their present.

Tom Knox, is the pen name of author and journalist Sean Thomas. And “The Lost Goddess” is a fictional narrative eloquently spiced with real life events. Knox has spent a career traveling the highways and byways of the Globe and collected more than a few story-ready gems along the way.

In the depths of Cambodia and Laos, Knox gained inspiration for his newest release from his fascination with the history of the communist Khmer Rouge regime, where one of the worst holocausts in history occurred. And of the curious impact of Pol Pot, years after his passing.

The dictator was the head of the Khmer Rouge organization who sought to stomp out religion from their country. Though when Knox returned to Cambodia, he found Pol Pot’s tomb had become a shrine. Thus the man, who intended to stomp out God, had become a deity himself.

Such is the theme that carries Julia and Jake through an unyielding adventure to question the very nature of religion and it’s effect on the human condition.

The Lost Goddess, Tom Knox’s new page turning thriller, hits shelves today. Don’t be the last one on your block to explore the world’s violent history through the eyes of a man who has seen the results.

8 Kinds of Somedays

Somedays, you grow older and another candle appears on your birthday cake. The army of candles melt the icing and glow with enough light to bring daylight to darkness. They cast a fluorescent glare over your life. Every blemish of wasted potential is highlighted in the looking glass. If you had only applied yourself, you could have been the prefect human being, but you remained content to sit on your ass.

Somedays, you wake up with a nicotine headache and computer eye strain. You haven’t shaved or showered in a day, maybe two, and your face shows it. There are new pains in your knees, wrist, and vertebrae. John, Paul, George, and the Shining Time Station’s Conductor start to sound groovin.’ NPR has become entertainment. You open up a newspaper, magazine, and the occasional book of nonfiction. You are old, but there is no way to stop it.

Somedays, you should have got a Brooks Brother’s suit and become a social vampire. You should have went to an institution of higher education and allowed yourself to be molded into the cookie cutter. You could have been a marketing executive and set your mind to swindle the general public. The infusion of graven images to public icon is big money, if you can bare to sell a little more of our soul. You could have been something or made something out of your life, but you didn’t.

Somedays, you come to the full realization this is your life; the cluttered desk, bathroom, and kitchen. This is the thing High School prepared you for and you find yourself to be ill equipped. You wake up. The calender says it is Monday. You know Monday is a day, but have fuzzy logic beyond that. Mondays used to mean something, like the start of the week. Now, you cannot fathom Garfield’s frustration.

Somedays, you wonder if it all worth it. You haven’t seen the Ocean in two months Two months is eternity to a sea side life. You miss the small stretch of beach at the end of Winnacunnet Road. Over the seawall and beyond the street light view, where the stars dance to an ocean roll beat and fog horn tune. Celestial bodies collide in meteorite showers to her lullaby.

Somedays, you are faced with the question “So what’s wrong with you, why no significant other?” and you have no answer. You can’t comprehend how someone would want a common face in their life, yours or theirs. Your distrustful of the ones who will have you and you want the ones who won’t. Every horoscope you ever read says work on your craft and the rest will play out. The advice appeals to your Virgo logic and you put trust in the cards.

Somedays, you think Steve is right. We live in 50 years of The Beatles and wonder if the band should still cover the face of pop culture. Every year, new bands are spawned and new voices take the scene. Yet, you hear no love on the radio dial and the Beatles remain important. The music is adapted, while the message is unperceived. No voice to broadcast the meaning and music lost its soul, but its face is printable a million times over. You could be that voice, but there is glitter and pretty lights to distract you.

Then somedays, everything works out. The birds chirp out a tune and the universe begins to make sense. You fear the other foot’s fall as calm waters lead to stormy weather. In this moment, you reach for clarity. You strive for perfection and keep back it’s ugly form of self molestation. You keep in mind your choice to get out of bed, your choice to become responsible. The streets are littered with the humans who gave up or gave into a holy life. You could be one of their numbers and the choice is your only freedom.