Your kid is killing my earth....

Children are the reason for global warming. Well, not maliciously, but they are why the ice caps are melting, why basic food prices are on the rise. Don't jump to the conclusion that I'm referring to over-population, although that is part of the problem, it's not my underlying argument.

Tax breaks.

That's my underlying argument.

The federal government allows a break on taxes for every child you have. Supposedly this is to make things financially more viable for said family. In the long run, it actually costs the family more money due to rising food and fuel prices. It is this lack of tax income to the government that is hurting the American family.

Taxes pay for our education system, and yet the people who use this system are the ones being given a break on funding that system. Those with children aren't paying into that which educates their children as much as non-breeding families do. Teachers pay for supplies out of pocket, lunch programs are being wiped out left and right, and there is no money for any type of extra-curricular activities. Now families are paying more for healthy (we would hope) lunches for their kids to take to school and fees for private athletic programs.

Now that these kids are getting shuttled to the soccer field, the dance studio, the karate dojo, we are leaving a larger carbon footprint by all of this constant motion from one venue to the next. We drive them to the mall to buy the gear they need, we take them to practice, we go to the grocery store for lunch snacks, activity snacks.

How do we get to these places? Mr. and Mrs,. Average American will taxi their brood in an SUV. Now if that family were interested in getting another tax break, they could buy a hybrid vehicle, as the government will reward those who own and drive those wonders of science. But they don't make a Prius with room for six and three DVD players in the back, so Joe Blow will do what he thinks is his part in supporting the American economy and eschew those efficient imports for a true-blue American monster. They will take it three times as much to the local BP station and fill 'er up, unwittingly contributing the profits of a foreign-owned oil company (yes, BP is British). And should some of those profits make it into the hands of Americans, they will be mostly be shared by the stock-holders who make enough money that they get even larger tax-breaks than the folks who pay their salary leaving less money going into the tax-funded education system.

As the average price of gas goes up, the good folks who grow the food we eat suffer, too. Shipping costs go up due to high gas prices and to recoup those losses, the farmer needs to charge more for his wares. In order to off-set production costs, many will use chemicals to boost production in order to get multiple harvests in a given year. Others in Third World countries will use slash-and-burn techniques to clear more land for farming, disrupting the natural balance in local ecosystems and adding more pollutants to the atmosphere.

But what of those goods folks supporting organic products and using canvass shopping bags to help with the environment? My applause for them, indeed, but it's hard to clap for someone who loads those Whole Foods products into a Hummer left running in the parking lot while her four kids watch "Spiderman 3" in the back seat.

Those who choose not to have children pay more into the tax system than those who use the system for their kids. If anything, the tax breaks should be given to those who are contributing to the balance of nature by not reproducing and wreaking havoc on the environment in their vain attempts to carry on a surname. Reward those who leave a smaller carbon footprint. That's not to say that childless couples do not do their part to destroy the world unwittingly, but they do it at a much slower pace. Less mouths to feed and shuttle around leave less of a footprint behind.

So don't grumble when you fill the tank on your Suburban while taking Ethan and Mackenzie to the water park (whew, it's a hot summer, eh?) because the government, if you remember, is rewarding you for this.

At least it's quiet in the winter...

In an age dominated by XBOX, Wii, and Playstation, it is always encouraging to see children outside, enjoying the great outdoors, getting fresh air and exercise.

But for the love of God, why must every child who steps foot out the front door commence screaming and shrieking at the top of the lungs? Every second spent outside is accompanied with an unending siren of ear-piercing squeals, without pause, without breath, without reason, and without regard for the rest of the neighborhood.

Sure, playtime is fun, it's exciting, it's imaginations run wild. Running around, expending youthful energies, enjoying life as only a child can. But why, simply why, must it be ensconced in cacophony that would put a NASCAR race to shame? Why are the parents so indifferent to how this may effect or offend their neighbors?

Many people chose not to have children for this reason. They chose a life of quiet, of peace, of calm. Unfortunately adult-only neighborhoods are only to be found in retirement communities. What of the twenty-somethings that want a tranquil street, free of tricycles, super-soakers, and other rugrat paraphernalia? Exclusionary communities are rare as most developers fear discrimination lawsuits. But if nudist colonies can exist on the requisite that it's denizens eschew clothing, then why cannot a sub-division constrain it's residents to a no-child policy? It is and can be a life-style choice and those who chose to be child-free should be availed neighborhoods that cater to that lifestyle.

Meanwhile, I'm going to medical school to become an ear doctor. When these fountains of sonic exuberance grow up, they're gonna be deaf, deaf, deaf...

Red state, blue state, green state?

On St. Patrick's Day everybody wears green. The Celtics, the Packers, the winner of The Masters golf tournament claim green as a signature color. Yoda just wouldn't be your favorite Jedi master if he were any other hue. It's the color that signifies the onset of spring. M & Ms just wouldn't be the same without green.

Green is the reason John McCain will lose the general election.

No, not because of the environment (though that's another point of contention...). It's his campaign logo.

Breaking with tradition and eschewing the patriotic standard red, white, and blue, McCain has instead opted for white lettering on a kelly green background. A bold attempt to stand out from the standard regardless of the negative subliminal message it conveys.

My Dad is a stock car enthusiast and he took my sister and I to tracks as kids. We would pick out favorites to win based solely on the look of the car until we were told never to pick the green car. The color is considered unlucky in racing.

In high school I was in a few theatre productions and in one play I was the villain. My costume was a green suit. My drama coach informed me that characters who needed a negative reaction from the audience were frequently dressed in green and that it had the psychological effect of inducing disdain.

Envy is a mortal sin. "Green with envy" anyone?

We all know the altruism "money is the root of all evil". American dollars are referred to as "greenbacks" for the reverse-side dye. To go even further, gamblers consider the fifty dollar bill to be unlucky and refuse to carry them.

Dr. Banner turns into a raging green monster when angry, transforming himself and his rage into the Incredible Hulk.

The Wicked Witch of the West?

While the intention to show the "maverick" nature of the candidate, McCain's handlers have made an unintentional error in trying to visually convey that message.

Perhaps a lesson can be learned from one who knows the ins and outs of that precarious color, Kermit the Frog: "it's not easy being green"

Lessons from Star Jones

There are a lot of names that flash across the tabloid conscience, and while they all milk their fifteen minutes, we can, for the most part, recognize the foundation of their fame. Not that there is a discernable relevance to these figures in relation to our own trials and tribulations, but watching the rise and fall of public figures can sometimes add humor to our own life experiences. Some of us can relate to the unfortunate relationship a certain intern held with a person in high powerful office. Others can sympathize with a celebrity's addictions. We read "US Weekly" and "InTouch" to form a connection with those in the spotlight; similarities can bind us to our most beloved Hollywood figures.

There is also a type of celebrity that cause instantaneous disdain, derision, and disgust: the "why-are-they-famous ?" celebrity. Not knowing how or why this person is on the cover of "The Star" can pique ire rather than curiosity.

My case in point: Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt.

They're famous for being on a reality soap-opera that was actually scripted. In "real life" they have become engaged. With the engagement has come Star Jones-sized demands.

They have demanded (and I use that word puriently) that every aspect of the wedding be donated, ala Star Jones. They expect to pay for nothing.

These are two bimbos that have blown their paychecks on night after night of partying, being out at "hot spots" to ensure they catch the media's eye. Now that the biggest days of egoism have arrived, they are left unprepared.

They have turned being pseudo-celebrities into a cash cow, only they've milked the teat of fame dry and the pail is empty.

So like every member of the "me" generation they have decided that the public owes them everything fo, forgetting the land-slide of negative press Star Jones received after her donated wedding.

I didn't have anything donated for my wedding.

We made our invitations on a laptop and printed them, at our own expense, on colored copy paper at the Kinko's. We couldn't afford to go home to Illinois for the ceremony, let alone have everyone come out to the west coast, either. There was no reception, no cake, no limo. We made the best of what we had and we managed to have a rather spectacular day. Everything came out of our own pocket.

My Dad didn't have his health insurance or mortgage paid for by others when he was laid off. He didn't have Volkswagon buy the van we took on family vacations. Wall Drug Store didn't pay for us to get to South Dakota to see Mt. Rushmore.

A donation is a charitable gift, for one not able to buy the given item. Food is donated to starving Third World countries, books to schools that operate on shoe-string budgets. Disaster relief is an answer to a cry for help. Donations are given to a good cause.

For the life of me, I cannot phathom how these two self-absorbed ego-freaks believe they constitute a good cause..

Wamt to experience a day as recipients of donated goods? Walk your fake-and-bake asses down to the Goodwill. That tent you want? Sleep under one in a reugee camp in Chad. Free food? Wait in the soup kitchen lines of New York.

It's not that they are celebrities for no reason that bugs me, but rather, that the centerpieces of the "me" generation are ironically asking that same generation to give to others.

To be fair, you are supposed to get something "old, somthing new, something borrowed"....

A picture is worth a thousand words...

There was a framed picture of me on my Mother's desk at work. A co-worker was looking at it and told my Mom that I looked just like my Dad. She laughed.

"You think so?"

"Oh, definitely. You can tell that's Larry's son."

I love that story because Larry is, in the technical sense, my stepdad. In reality, he is the only real father I have ever had.

Just like most pre-teen kids, my relationship with my new father didn't go so well. It's not that I thought he was trying to replace my "real" father, because in truth, there was no "real" father to replace; the greasy yellow-toothed used-car salesman was never a father to begin with, just a sperm-donor. My relationship with Larry was tenuous simply because I suddenly had an authority figure in my life. We spent the better part of the next fifteen years battling, bumping heads, misunderstanding each other. In hindsight, I was the monster, not him, but at the time, I thought he was an unforgiving hard-ass.

Thank God he was.

Growing up with him, I found him to be anal-retentive, a perfectionist, and completely unbending in his ways. He had strange sayings, curses, and phrases. He was always taking showers.

But he found ways to make sure my sister and I always had a summer vacation, a tree-house to play in, a bedroom decorated to our tastes. There were sacrifices I was never aware of.

Our relationship eventually grew into one of respect as I got older, moved up the corporate ladder, settled down and got married. I can't remember exactly when I stopped calling him Larry and started calling him Dad. But that's what he always was, whether I was mature enough to admit it. And I was his son. So much so that I became my father.

My wife likes to joke that I snore like him, curse like him, eat like him, obsess over minute details like him. We have come to look like one another, our heads shorn close, our whiskers white, our noses always sunburned. I have become my father and I am the better man for it. And when I look at those pictures of my father and me, it is true, we do look alike. We should. He's my dad....

A Burning Ring Of Fire

Country music has been called the heartbeat of America. It should be called the cheatin' heart of America.

Cheaters are duplicitous two-timers and I believe that it is duplicitous to listen to and have a love of country music and be a Republican at the same time.

The Republican Party's platform is one of family values. They decry the lyrics of rap and pop music for it's treatment of women, it's glorification of sex, it's blatant promotion of drugs and alcohol.

Have you listened to country music lately?

One of the biggest sensations in country music history is Garth Brooks. He's a poster child for Middle America. Oklahoma City is his home. But take another look at his tunes and you might think he was a regular on MTV. His Greatest Hits album contains songs about "Friends in Low Places" who get drunk and crash a wedding, a trucker's obsessive crush on a teen girl in "Baton Rouge", and a high school boy who loses his virginity to a woman twice his age in "That Summer." Other songs glorify drinking such as "Two Pina Coladas", "Longneck Bottle", and "Beer Run" which also contains references to drinking and driving. Nice life lessons, Garth.

Oh, and congratulations on leaving your wife of thirteen years while on tour for Trisha Yearwood. Guess adultery's okay in your book.

Speaking of adultery, take a listen to the cross-over hit by Carrie Underwood: "He Better Think Next Time Before He Cheats." Think of country classics like "Your Cheatin' Heart", "Jolene", and "Lucille". For the sanctity-of-marriage crowd, the music doesn't seem to fit the belief system. The old joke goes that if you play country music backwards the dog comes back, the wife comes back.... If the Christian majority of red-state residents can't seem to keep their own marriages together then how can they have the audacity to claim that the only way to preserve marriage is to define it? How about practicing what ya'll preach?

Willie Nelson is one of the Kings of Country Music, famous for ditties such as "Whisky River" and "Whisky For My Men and Beer For My Horses." But here, too, is a man who is better known for getting high on the roof of the White House.

Take an hour and listen to a country-western music radio station and simply pay attention to the lyrics. You'll be surprised how equally irresponsible these songs are compared to a Top 20 station's music. So stop the "holier than thou" attitude, my red-state bible-thumpin' cowboy-hat-wearing pick-up truck-drivin' Coors Light- drinkin' friends, and just keep to the Lee Greenwood tunes. At least they're true to your cause.

Where The Wild Things Are

Every child grows up with some sort of stuffed animal, from the ubiquitous Teddy Bear to plush versions of animistic cartoon characters. Animals are a part of our world from birth. As we get older we attach ourselves to a favorite species, the elephant being mine, a representative of gentle intelligence. Some incur love for panthers for their fierceness, penguins for their playfulness, koalas for an innate cuteness. We come to have a connection that drives us to collect figurines, pictures, documentaries, jewelry, and the like. They are movie heroes, product mascots, Halloween costumes. They exist in our world everywhere, but there is one place that they do not belong, and they are there only due to our selfishness and instinctual drive to remain at the top of the evolutionary chain:

Zoos.

The major defense launched by zoological societies is one of protection and viability. Where it is true that there are many programs at zoos nationwide aimed at propagating species, a zoo is not the place for that altruistic activity. Claiming success at having birthed the first giraffe in captivity is no boast. The key word in that sentence is "captivity." A giraffe born at Chicago's Lincoln Park Zoo, for example, is entirely unnatural. A giraffe born in an African wildlife sanctuary, in it's natural habitat, is a step toward the progress of saving a species from extinction, and saving, too, it's natural habitat.

Giraffes do not live in a 500 square foot concrete enclosure voluntarily. How does this type of environment give the animal dignity, happiness, or comfort ? When humans are put into the same type of situation, we call it prison.

When we go to a zoo, we aren't seeing the animals we love in their natural environment, acting in a way that shows their true behavior in nature. Instead we see, through barbed wires, plexiglass, and metal cages, bored, sad, emotionally disconnected inmates lying listless, showing none of the grandeur and beauty they possess in the wild. Baths with rubber garden hoses aren't indicative of a natural habitat. Michelin snow tires aren't indicative of a natural habitat. Animals, all animals, are in some way, hunters, always looking for sustenance. When we simply throw buckets of lettuce and carrots at them three times a day, we take away that most basic thing that makes them animals.

On Friday a Bengal tiger mauled and killed a zookeeper at a Tokyo zoo. Tigers do not naturally hunt humans, but after eleven years in the same small enclosure, instinct takes over when it spies the first moving thing it has seen in its life within paws' reach. What does a zoo do in this circumstance? It secures the animal even more, eliminating any chance for that beast to be its true self.

Animals at zoos are kept in constant torment by the yelling of children, throwing of things, tapping of glass. Are these the lives that these animals would lead in the wild? Hardly so. Even when viewed by people on safari, it is from a distance and with the caveat that your actions could bring you bodily harm. Tourists behave on safari. Tourists fall into a false sense of safety and disregard for nature when they go to the zoo.

The tiger that escaped and mauled three men at the San Diego Zoo not so long ago is a prime example. The uninjured friend who caused the attack has admitted he was high on drugs when he taunted and threw debris at the tiger in his enclosure. Would this same animal have been subjected to this kind of abuse in the wild? And because this tiger fought back when it was attacked, it was killed for it's actions. If we are trying to protect and preserve the majesty of these beasts, then why do we continually subject them to these miserable lifestyles?

We adopt animals at the zoo, we accept that our entry tickets are donations for the animals' upkeep. But are we truly caring for our animals by patronizing these places? Would you feel happy and playful if it were your neighborhood's family pets locked up, separated from each other in cages, have things thrown at them by strangers, given no room to play, and on display for all the world to taunt and point at?

Summer is upon us. Would you rather spend a weekend having fun with the family, enjoying the sun, or would you rather spend it contributing to the humiliation and degradation of imprisoned beasts of beauty? We will most certainly look back upon this time in our history and lament that we ever subjected these children of Mother Nature to such horrid treatment. Be the one who looks back and remembers how you helped change it.

I'm sorry, Jesus, you didn't make it through to the next round

Okay, I'll admit it: I watch, with unabashed enthusiasm, "So You Think You Can Dance."

There are a lot, and I mean a lot, of sub-par reality/competition programs on the air. This one is different in that it puts the performances of professional dancers in the hands of professional judges. The contestants are put through paces that very few accomplished athletes could keep up with. The work is hard, artful, expressive, beautiful, and demanding. Each dancer striving to become one of the top twenty has pushed themselves beyond their limits and have had to reach deep within to find that extra push to get them over the competitive edge. They have acknowledged personal demons, friends and relatives as guideposts, tragedies that have given them second chances. A myriad of impetus has been expressed.

But I refuse to acknowledge that Jesus had anything to do with your making it to the next round.

Like many on the awards stage, a sobbing young lass, after being cut from the program, told the world that Jesus got her there.

"Excuse me, starving, beaten, homeless refugees of Darfur," says Jesus to his suffering flock. "I have to excuse myself to attend to a young attractive American girl and help her through a grueling dance competition on national television."

To think and claim that Jesus would belittle his own ministering to clear a path toward victory in a reality-TV competition is insulting to anyone who believes in Jesus in the first place.

In her acceptance speech at the 2007 Primetime Creative Arts Emmy Award for Best Reality Show, Kathy Griffin, star of "My Life on the D-List", joked:

"A lot of people come up here, and they thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus...suck it, Jesus, this award is my God now!"

Crude? Yes. Truthful? Yes.

To assume that Jesus would take his attention away from real human suffering and calamity to focus his attention on one individual's drive toward self-promotion and recognition is beyond all definitions of ridiculous. If anything, these apostates are worshiping at the feet of false golden idols. If they were truly religious and believed that Jesus was the guiding force in their lives, they would not need a golden statue or a silver medal to represent their achievement. It is anathema to the teachings of Christianity and humility before God.

The reward for me, though, was knowing that Jesus was only half-heartedly interested in our young blonde friend. She didn't make it into the top twenty.

But Kathy Griffin's Life on the D List certainly made it into my top twenty...

Not Another Four Years.....

I didn't want to continue on and on about Hillary's lack of poise, grace, and humility, but as I was browsing MySpace today I got a bulletin informing me of the new "Hillary Clinton for President 2012" page. Only two days since she lost the nomination and already an inter-party battle has been launched for the next four years. Regardless if she should somehow wrangle the VP slot, she has already shown her true colors: an unquenchable thirst for power and spotlight.

The party is in need of unification. Democrats have long been accurately perceived as the party of internal chaos. The lack of cohesion and focus has cost the party in far too many national races. Senator Clinton's continued aping of Dick Cheney in an unswerving drive toward ultimate power does nothing but disservice to her party, her supporters and her New York constituents, let alone her need to leave a larger-than-life legacy.

She's leaving a legacy, alright, albeit one of a scorched earth policy in the quest for political immortality.

Just seeing the new site up, before she has even officially conceded the race, is telling in the question of her character. It belies the truth as to why she got into the race: for her own glory and not for the sake of the country.

History has a way of sorting out the magnanimous from the malicious. The legacy of Richard Nixon, for example, who could boast the greatest achievements in foreign policy of any modern President is instead remembered for his bunker-mentality, enemies lists, and self-inflicted downfall, all for the sake of holding power.

In that one speech, on Tuesday night, Hillary Clinton secured her spot in history, not as magnanimous, but malicious. Her inability to serve the people instead of her own interests is the one thing that will keep her from attaining that which she so desires. By not squelching any talk of her desire to remain a perpetual candidate for President she cements her legacy as a power-monger and not a power-sharer.

The Democratic Party has always held itself as the party of inclusion. By refusing to acknowledge the accomplishments of Barack Obama, Hillary has tarnished that image and has forfeited any right as a standard-bearer for the party.

So go ahead, Hillary, keep running. Four years is a lot of time for people to get to see your true colors.

...Except for Aquaman...

Every young boy has at some point tied a towel around his neck and pretended to be a superhero. He can fly, he has super strength, he fights bad guys. He gets a little older and he starts to read comic books, fascinated by the struggles of good versus evil. And even when he is old enough to drive himself to the movie theater and watch the latest superhero feature, he will sit in his seat and imagine the world with real live superheroes, or perhaps fancy himself one. The fascination never ends.

But I have a real problem with costumed crusaders.

First of all, how seriously am I to take a grown man wearing pale blue leotards, Speedoes, and red Wellies. I certainly wouldn't think: Superhero. No, I might wonder what asylum he wandered away from. Seriously, who would wear such a thing? If we learned anything from "The Incredibles" it's that capes are a bad idea. And how is it that every crime fighter and super-villain have such mad sewing and designer skills? Peter Parker isn't just an ace photographer, he's ready for his turn on "Project Runway."

If there were real life superheroes I would totally want to be an insurance agent. My fortune would be made in selling "Superhero Battle Protection." Ever wonder what happens to the guy who comes out of his office building after a long day at work only to find that the Incredible Hulk has used his car as a frisbee? How do you file a claim for that? Do major cities allow for battle damage in their budgets? Think of all the collateral damage done when Batman and the Joker are done with their gadget-centric fisticuffs. If we can't rebuild New Orleans, how are we to rebuild Gotham after Mr Freeze turns it into a giant Slushee?

Superheroes would cause unemployment. Police forces would cut jobs in the face of a superior crime-fighting force. Bus drivers would walk off their jobs (the city bus is almost guaranteed to be used as a weapon in any given superhero battle). Our armed services would suffer recruitment losses as we turn as a nation to superior beings to protect us from our enemies.

The collective expectations of our society would never meet the performance standards of superheroes. We would expect them to be everywhere at once, fixing every problem. Our disappointment would exceed the level of accomplishment made by our protectors. So if not an insurance agent, I would definitely become a superhero psychologist.

Or a sanitation worker...plenty of Spidey-webs to clean up. He's the single greatest environmental threat posed by superheroes.

And where do these crusaders get all the money to buy their gadgets, hideouts, invisible planes, and weapons? Secret identities? Pretty easy to figure out. I mean, sure, you can rule out folks like Warren Buffet and Donald trump as masked crime-fighters, but you just know they are secretly financing one. So no more tax breaks for the wealthiest 10% of society; it only encourages mass destruction.

So I'd rather live in a world where the real superheroes are regular Joes, like cops, firemen, soldiers, doctors, teachers, and game-show hosts. Let's keep the webslingers and dark knights in our collective imaginations where they safely belong.

Where were you when...

Hillary Clinton is a selfish power-hungry egotist who has sullied a century of suffragist progress.

I remember where I was when the Berlin Wall came down; sitting in my college dorm room, perched on the edge of my seat, thrilled, exasperated, aware that I was witnessing history.

I remember where I was when the Challenger exploded. I watched it happen. Not repeats of the footage on breaking news, but seeing it first-hand. CNN was on in the background as I was sweeping the floors on a day off. Something made me stop and watch the launch. Within minutes, I was aware I was witnessing history.

As I stood in my kitchen tonight, washing dishes, I again witnessed history. A nation founded by slave-holding white men decided that an African-American should be one of two nominees for President of the United States. That interruption to announce that Barack Obama had won enough delegates to be the nominee of the Democratic Party came like an unexpected shiver of goose-flesh on a hot summer day; exciting and breath-taking. And in that involuntary gasp, I sucked in the knowledge that I was seeing one of the single greatest moments in American history.

The first ten minutes of Senator Obama's speech, after the ramblings of Senator McCain and the self-congratulatory remarks of Senator Clinton, were spent on acknowledging the historical significance of Hillary's campaign. Her achievement, in spite of the political glass ceiling that women in office have faced, is in and of itself a special moment in American history. Although we have a female Speaker of the House, we have never seen a woman rise so far in our political history. Senator Obama praised all of Hillary Clinton's achievements, aspirations, and value in future social change. His speech went on to speak of the promise of the future, in positive terms. It was steeped in the language of inclusion. Goose-flesh, once again.

In stark contrast was the non-concession speech of Senator Clinton. Lacking the magnanimity of John McCain, who acknowledged and praised Senator Obama's achievement, Hillary spent twenty minutes praising Hillary. Hers was a speech that pointedly ignored the historical significance of Obama's ascension to the pinnacle of leadership. Hers was a speech that failed the progress of women in politics by focusing only on herself instead of the milestones the nation has witnessed. As a pre-eminent leader she had every opportunity and every right to blatantly point out her rise as a lesson and hope for women everywhere. As the wife of a President who touted himself as the best friend of the African-American community, she had every right and, indeed, should be expected to praise Senator Obama as a role-model for minorities. Instead of slapping Obama on the back, she spent twenty minutes patting her own.

What should have been a night of unity became a showcase for Hillary Clinton's ego, hubris, and selfishness. A closet Republican, perhaps? She certainly spoke like one.

America is built on the achievements of history. As an American leader, as one claiming to be the voice and choice of the nation and the people, she failed in recognizing an historical benchmark. Failing to recognize the progress of America is ignoring America altogether.

And that is why she is not a leader, and will not be our President. Power for power's sake is not a platform to greatness, but to the footnotes of history.

Tonight was an opportunity to witness two great moments in history: recognition of the advancement of minorities and the advancement of women. Instead, we witnessed two political dichotomies: grace and greed.

Nevertheless, I will remember the moment that Barack Obama won the nomination as one of the singular greatest moments in American history. And I will also remember where I was when I realized the definition of true greatness.

Ryan Seacrest: Prophet of Doom

I'm not a Trekkie by any means, but I do watch it occasionally for a good laugh. Everyone is a scientist, an engineer, a diplomat. Earth is a place of communal peace. Technological wonders abound, from transporters to the spaceships themselves. Again, I watch it as a comedy because our future will look nothing like that.

Which movie will it look like?

"Idiocracy."

The premise: A regular Joe and a prostitute get sent 500 years into the future and because society has gotten so dumb, are the smartest people in the world (regular guy: Luke Wilson).

I realized this was the course we are taking after watching a post-sweeps evening of television.

Sure, there are some smart programs on the air and channels dedicated to education, but sandwiched between are the hints of what our culture is devolving into. Nevermind shows like "American Idol" where more Americans vote for an over-commercialized forgettable vocalist than they do for the Congressional representatives who oversee the laws and budget allocations that govern their lives outside the "idiot box."

No, I'm referring to programs like:

"Hurl" where contestants participate in eating contests then are put on a gyroscope. Whoever pukes last wins $1000. Seriously.

"Legally Blonde: The Search for the Next Elle Woods" where a mediocre Broadway musical trolls for "talent" to replace it's lead actress.

"A Shot at Love With Tila Tequilla": in it's second season, overly-hormonal jocks and lesbian-for -the-sake-of-being-on-TV-lesbians compete for the affections of a plasticine spit receptacle famous only for having over a million MySpace friends.

The one show, though, that really illustrates my point is returning for a second season, and if this year is anything like the first run, it will be the single biggest indicator of our nations collective failure in the appreciation of culture and intelligence. I refer, of course, to "America's Got Talent." A redneck ventriloquist, and I repeat, ventriloquist, was determined to be the most talented person in America by not only the esteemed panel of experts led by David Hasselhof, but by the millions of votes from average America.

That same average American who gets sent into the future in "Idiocracy."

I'm not sure which is worse: who dreamed up these travesties, who green-lit these pile of offal, or the millions who participate in these insults to intelligence.

It is the sheer number of votes that are received on these programs that are the single biggest indicator of where our country is headed. We will vote over and over again for "America's Best Dance Crew", but less than half of the country is registered to vote for President. With this kind of real-world apathy it is no wonder we elect scallywags like George W Bush, Dick Cheney, Katherine Harris, or Larry Craig. If we listened to politicians the same way we listen to contestants on Idol, we wouldn't be in the stagnant state we are now.

Perhaps we should give the Presidential candidates 877 numbers and allow Americans to text their vote.

Then again, if we chose a ventriloquist, then we'd probably elect another Cheney, hand up W's butt, speaking out the side of his mouth hoping people will think it's Georgie.

So for the sake of our country, for the our children's children, for the safety of the universe, please please please turn off your televisions this summer. Close the laptop. Muffle those texting fingers with gardening gloves. Every child dreams of being a super-hero. Here's your chance to be one and save the world...

,,,from stupidity.