Tales From Icy Island

I remember when I was a wee lad growing up in Pennsylvania (well, I still go “wee” a lot, both vocally and secretionally, yet can hardly be considered a “wee” being girthwise), I would ask my mother a great many really stupid questions. Such as, “What’s an outhouse?” (I waited till the Episcopal pastor was visiting to make this inquiry), or, “Who is Richard Nixon?” (Not a very nice person at all, according to my mom’s side of the family who were victims of his Red-baiting tactics in the Fifties; a truly fine American according to my dad’s side of the family who would’ve voted for Lucifer Himself if he ran on the Republican ticket), or, “Why do they call winter ‘icky’? I like the snow!”

Whereupon my mother, looking over my five-year-old shoulder as I proudly attempted to read the newspaper, would explain, “That’s ‘ice-y,’ honey. They’re talking about how it’s so awfully hard to get around with all this ice on the ground.”

A little later on, being unacquainted with our friend the silent “s,” I would have the same kind of trouble with the word “island.” I simply figured that “is-land” referred to the obvious fact that, if something is surrounded by a bunch of water, then naturally it “is land.”

This type of crystalline logic was met with severe skepticism from grade school teachers and their intractable successors year after year. Only when I reached the highest levels of matriculation did university professors finally appreciate my creative ability to clearly and concisely elucidate the extravagancies of exigency. To sum up: I got really good at reading, writing and recognizing bullshit.

So, through the icy haze, I spy the following…

It used to be that “conservatism” stood for more civil liberties, less government, moderation in international affairs and preservation of the environment. Nowadays, the Republican Party (G.O.P. or Grossly Obsequious Party) fancies itself as the champion of conservatism. Yet the Republicans want to legislate what you can do in the privacy of your own home, whom you can or cannot love (and how), what will be taught in our public schools, and even what kind of God you can worship (whether you want to or not). The Republicans, in addition to placing the federal government squarely in the middle of your schools, living rooms, and bedrooms, want you to be ruled by the insurance and pharmaceutical companies.

The Republicans support Imperial military excursions into sovereign nations, at the behest of corporate Party benefactors, with no thought of broad international solutions, nation building, or the lives of the brave Americans on the front lines. The Republicans view the environment as expendable, a mere speed bump on the road to corporate expansion. So, class, let’s recap: is the Republican Party conservative? No, there’s another word for this kind of legislative, economic, philosophical, and theological imposition by the government upon the will of the people: Fascism. ‘Tis a slippery slope indeed that slides from misplaced moralism to the cold, hard death of liberty.

Speaking of which ‘tween chattering teeth…

Here in northwest Washington, the G.O.P. (Gallantly Obtuse Party) has quietly proposed the following: A “Rural Contract with Whatcom County.” In a blatantly and flatulently fraudulent attempt to win votes among beleaguered local farmers, Whatcom County Republicans are busying themselves shoveling lots of manure hoping that the stench will disguise their agenda. Thus, real estate development and speculation smell like property rights; environmental degradation smells like progress; lies smell like truth. But in the frozen air of a pure winter morning, this “contract” just plain stinks.

And finally…

On a recent flight southward while this reporter stared into the icy darkness of his scotch and soda, contemplating all of the above political seasonal anomalies, sudden turbulence buffeted the aircraft. This caused my esteemed wife Donna (Goddess bless her for putting up with me this long) to lose control of her glass of water (Donna cares about as much for drinking as she does for flying) to the point where water cup and cabin ceiling became one. Thus, it began to rain in the plane, which fell mainly on the dame. Yours truly, fearing death by icy stare, stifled a laugh whilst beginning to think better of this frozen wonderland in which we live and wishing an end to the “conservatives’” wintry tale.

Remember: No man is an is-land if we are all surrounded by each other. §

Questions? Comments? Add your special spice to the casserole by email at whatcomwatch@cs.com or P.O. Box 1441, Bellingham, WA 98227-1441.