One Painful Moral Decision

 Last month, a book with boring cover but an inspiring story called Against Football—One Fan’s Reluctant Manifesto was published by Melville Press. The writer, a man named Steve Almond who, though he adores football, considers the facts and makes a painful decision: to quit following it.

Almond describes his love for the complexity and sophistication of the game, but acknowledges its overt racism—most players are black; most viewers white—violence, taxpayer rip-offs, and basic dishonesty: the NFL is a non-profit like the Red Cross, Cancer Society, ballet or symphony!

No matter what scandal football generates—players beating their wives in public, raping co-eds in private, pay-offs, dog fighting, concussions, high school footballers sexually abusing younger players, or college ones getting grades they don’t earn—Americans keep watching.

About all Almond doesn’t see is how American football looks from outside the U.S. Around the world football confirms our status as a brutally violent nation. It may be only a game, yet it defines us in foreign eyes. Even women are fans.

 The final assessment that forces Almond’s decision is that football is immoral. Wow! Then why don’t religions speak out against it? Well, religions have far more in common with corporations: building churches, schools, and most of all, donation bases.

I don’t care what the Supreme Court says; it takes a person to make a moral decision. There are moral people in religions, but the reaction to clergy abuse here and abroad is abundant proof a corporation will do what is in its best interest.

As of a gesture respect to a genuine Critical Eye, I am donating my copy of Almond’s remarkable book to the Cascade Public library, so anyone can witness a moral person making a painful, moral decision.

Looking the Gift Gods in the Mouth

What a place we Inhabit! A spectacular view from Sixth St. going up the hill looking northeast to lower Claddagh Court.

In a neighbor's back yard.

This time of year it is we must sympathize with folks in warmer climes who are not regaled by such grand visions of red and oranges wherever they glance. Indian Summer with its sunny days and moderate temps so vibrant and abundantly alive with color seems a direct gift from the gods.  It may portend winter, but one should not look the gift-gods in the mouth!

 Simply get a critical eye full!!!

American Boots on Ebola Ground

    Sounds like Mr. Obama plans to send 4,000 American soldiers to Africa to build Ebola infrastructure--insolation and contamination units and other structures needed to fight the epidemic. Before doing so, I think he should have a look at a History book and see which countries benefitted from that continent and, therefore, are more obliged to put back.
     Botswana, Kenya, Nigeria, Namibia, Sierra Leone, South Africa, Uganda, Zambia, and Zimbabwe are all English speaking countries because Britain had colonies there and sucked plenty of wealth out of them.  Likewise, Benin, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Central African Republic, Chad, Cote d'Ivoire (Ivory Coast) Guinea, Gabon, Mali, Rwanda, Tunisia, Senegal, and the Seychelles speak French for roughly the same reason. Ever hear of the Belgian Congo? Ditto. Portugal and Holland were likewise involved. Currently, China is having a field day in Africa, extracting resources that no longer has in its own country.
      Nobody would be so naïve as to suggest that the U.S. never got anything out of the African continent: American oil companies have certainly sucked their share out of the Nigerian soil. American slaves were largely from West Africa, so we must count that. It is not the Euros have never put anything back either--Medicines sans Frontieres (Doctors without Borders) is famous world wide, and has even worked here.
      It is only to suggest that, as I pointed out yesterday, the European democracies have far healthier middle classes and can afford this better than we can. In addition, they have an historical obligation.

Critical Eye believes they should honor it.
     

Cheapest of Cheap Shots

Heard downtown yesterday that I have been branded a racist on Facebook. Copious thanks to my defenders anyway. Everybody, including the editor of the Cascade Pioneer, needs to consider my objections in light of the fate of the American Middle Class, which has steadily dwindled until now most of the developed world is better off.  

The reasons can’t all be listed here, so check out http://theeconomiccollapseblog.com for 44 indicators of Mid-class demise. Even the places we once shopped—Sears and Penny’s—are downsizing. I criticize dollar stores and their shabby Chinese-made merchandize going great guns and filling up our landfills. So I suppose that makes me a racist against the Chinese and American bizmen.

Whatever.

I spent almost 5 years in Germany and considered immigrating to that country. I know what would happen if you walked into a German government office and didn’t conduct your business in Deutsch: they would laugh right out. Call up any U.S. government office and you will get the “dos” option, Spanish. I spoke it on the street when I lived in Mexico City for three months. If being outraged that Mexicans are here for years without learning English, makes me a racist, then I guess I am a racist.

If having adopted a protective attitude toward my own culture and its institutions like the library and objecting to misuse of them, makes me a racist in spite of the fact that I am respectful and sympathetic to Mexicans, (been there, done the immigrant thing) then again I am guilty as charged—a racist.

Perhaps because we, White European Americans, displaced the Native American culture that was here, we don’t think it is there is anything wrong with another culture destroying what we have. Perhaps anything beyond our sacred cows—football and rock & roll--doesn’t count as culture. Critical Eye begs to differ that questioning these things in public makes me a racist. Perhaps it just makes people who won't, cowards.

Moon in Your Eye like a Proverbial Pizza Pie

     Did you rise up early last Wednesday a.m. for the eclipse? I did, and was freshly grateful for my new eyes, installed to replace the cataracts in the old ones late summer. I not only saw the shadow pass across the moon, making it yellow orange, after it had cast a startling white light the previous evening. More startling even, the number of stars visible. In spite of the light spill from the Coohey trail across the river.
     That evening I went to my front door and watched the big pizza pie rise up through the trees across the park be dramatically overtaken by a low-hanging cloud, which it lit magnificently from behind. 
     When that dissipated, I turned on Netflix and found a documentary called The City Dark which describes the extent of light pollution now that almost half the world's people live in cities. It is worth a look-see because shows how we have affected the night, how lack of it affects and the animals around us. Too, it gives valuable suggestions on how protect the dark.

A critical eye can see that animal or natural phenomenon humans find disturbing, dangerous, ugly, unnecessary, worthless, superfluous, or inconvenient is endangered and probably needs to be reconsidered.

Fondly Recalling the Cascade Interpreter

            A couple weeks ago, which would have been the 25^th anniversary of the Cascade Interpreter I wrote a letter to the editor of the Cascade Pioneer, a young woman I like respect and I sense the feeling is mutual: at least she respects my ability to express myself incisively in 300 words, and courage in saying what I see.

            So I was shocked when I sent the text of yesterday’s blog post to her. She never ran it, and when I called to ask why, she said, “We have policy against attacking children.” I pointed out I had not identified anyone by name.”

            Implying I was being racist, she replied, “No, but you identified them by skin color.”

            “No, I identified them by behavior which is inappropriate in the public space we, the taxpayers of this town, provide.”

            Critical Eye can only fondly recall The Interpreter, which everybody knew had far more courage than the Pioneer then and now.

Sat. morning in CPL

Saturday morning I was in the library, trying to wring information on John Yates Beall, Cascade’s Civil War “spy” (commando is far better) out of a couple volumes of Carl Sandburg’s biography Abraham Lincoln.

The library was full, as usual, of pre-teen Hispanic boys jockeying to play computer games. A tiff ensued and the exasperated librarian had to referee. One of the losers, loudly bouncing a soccer ball, as if he didn’t realize what gives in a library, assembled other losers and disappeared. The boy, who had been playing with a mobile device while two others looked over his shoulder, was one of the “winners.”

Kudos to Librarian Melissa Kane and her staff who must cater to this amazing range: a researcher looking for esoteric texts on Civil War privateers, a legion of fiction readers, a raft of young parents with toddlers in tow, a coffee klatch, and on-going spat mediation.

While national leaders squabble over unaccompanied minors and immigration, we local taxpayers provide services, without much say in the matter.  While I am never rude, as being poor in this country no picnic whatever your ethnicity, I feel like a patsy.

Make no mistake minimum wage has remained at $7.25 because of this endless parade of indigents, likewise depressing the local “prevailing wage.” This is the magic formula that has dismantled the American Middle class and gorgeously enriched the 1%.

What I don’t see among the Hispanic boys in the library is equally problematic: girls. Feminists have fought a hard/long for equal treatment and this guarantees we will have to fight the same battles over again.

I quizzed the librarian about what these boys read—“Nothing!” “Abs-solutely nothing!!!”

So here is a policy solution that will aid everybody:  To earn computer time: kids must write a book report at or near grade level, typed and illustrated.