I thought you'd all enjoy this hysterical clip of Harper being, well, Harper. Enjoy.
10.22.2006
10.21.2006
I am a Patriot
"When Thomas Jefferson wrote that 'dissent is the highest form of patriotism,' he indicated our duty as patriotic Americans is not to keep obediently silent when the policies of our elected officials damage our country and its standing in the world. . . .
"We cannot, out of concern for 'politeness' or 'appropriateness,' abdicate our responsibility to speak out when we believe our nation's values have been severely undermined. If we keep silent, we submit to a dangerous national culture of obedience, which denigrates dissenters as treasonous and unpatriotic. This slavish deference to authority corrupts the soul, transforms our moral beliefs and freedom of conscience into objects for manipulation by those in power, and makes us weak, thoughtless and fearful.
"As President Eisenhower, who commanded Allied forces in Europe during World War II, advised, 'May we never confuse honest dissent for disloyal subversion.'"
-Mayor Rocky Anderson of Salt Lake City, Utah, 2006
"We cannot, out of concern for 'politeness' or 'appropriateness,' abdicate our responsibility to speak out when we believe our nation's values have been severely undermined. If we keep silent, we submit to a dangerous national culture of obedience, which denigrates dissenters as treasonous and unpatriotic. This slavish deference to authority corrupts the soul, transforms our moral beliefs and freedom of conscience into objects for manipulation by those in power, and makes us weak, thoughtless and fearful.
"As President Eisenhower, who commanded Allied forces in Europe during World War II, advised, 'May we never confuse honest dissent for disloyal subversion.'"
-Mayor Rocky Anderson of Salt Lake City, Utah, 2006
10.17.2006
Are there squirrels in Heaven?
Even as a child I was always sensitive to the circle of life, the shortness of it and the suffering we must all endure. I couldn't stand to hear of the copperhead snake my mother had killed in our backyard with a shuffle in order to defend her children. I sobbed when I heard the rat traps go off in our attic one night after the city had cleared the brush behind our house and they had found refuge in our ceilings and walls.
I still can't hear about hunting without feeling squeamish and the idea of someone close to me dying, as far off as it might be, is often times too much for me to bear.
So you can imagine how horrible it was to hit a squirrel with my car this morning as I was driving to work. I was only a few blocks from my house when it happened. I zigged. It zagged. It zagged again, and just when I thought I had missed it and avoided tragedy, my back tire made a "thump."
As afraid I as I was to look in the rear view mirror and see what I had done, I made myself do it.
I killed a squirrel. I'm a squirrel killer.
It is the only life outside of some ants, spiders and the occasional quarter-sized mouse, that I have ever taken. And when it happened I didn't stop because there were cars behind me, I was afraid I might catch some disease from the poor thing, and, well, because I was in shock.
So, I guess I just wanted to say this so I could make my peace with it: "I'm sorry Mr. or Ms. Squirrel. I didn't mean to do it and if I could I would undo it and somehow spare your life."
With that said, Mr. or Ms. Squirrel, may you rest in peace.
I still can't hear about hunting without feeling squeamish and the idea of someone close to me dying, as far off as it might be, is often times too much for me to bear.
So you can imagine how horrible it was to hit a squirrel with my car this morning as I was driving to work. I was only a few blocks from my house when it happened. I zigged. It zagged. It zagged again, and just when I thought I had missed it and avoided tragedy, my back tire made a "thump."
As afraid I as I was to look in the rear view mirror and see what I had done, I made myself do it.
I killed a squirrel. I'm a squirrel killer.
It is the only life outside of some ants, spiders and the occasional quarter-sized mouse, that I have ever taken. And when it happened I didn't stop because there were cars behind me, I was afraid I might catch some disease from the poor thing, and, well, because I was in shock.
So, I guess I just wanted to say this so I could make my peace with it: "I'm sorry Mr. or Ms. Squirrel. I didn't mean to do it and if I could I would undo it and somehow spare your life."
With that said, Mr. or Ms. Squirrel, may you rest in peace.
10.10.2006
So This One Time...
It is the dream of every wife, not to mention every woman, to have her husband, boyfriend, lover, friend, etc listen to her. I mean really listen to her. No distractions, no I'm-phrasing-my-next-comment, no drone-like head nodding. Just listening.
Well, I got my wish, but it's started to really bite me in the ass. I've had a few encounters in the past week which almost make me wish my husband didn't really listen. For instance, the other day we somehow got on the topic of Spanish class, when I started sharing a clever and funny anecdote. "So this one time in 12th grade Spanish...," I began.
"You held random parties where you made toast in class and yelled 'Ole!' when it popped up?" my adorable husband asked?
"No," I replied. "Actually I was going to say that this one time in Spanish class..."
"You were named Xicotencatl by your teacher which is the name of an ancient Aztec princess?" he asked.
"Actually, no," I said. "Have I already told you these stories?"
"Well, yes," he said.
"How about the one where we all started humming..."
"Da da da dum," my husband finished, humming The Price is Right theme song.
"Okay, what about when my effeminate teacher asked us to conjugate the Spanish verb 'juzgar'..."
"And it turned out to sound like 'who's gay'?" he said ever so sweetly.
"Wow," was all I could muster.
So my husband of 2 years and almost 3 months knows all my stories about high school Spanish. That's at the same time amazing and humbling. He later went on to reveal that he's politely listened to some of these charming tales 2, 3, maybe even 4 or 5 times. Isn't there some sort of award for things like that? I guess the moral of the story is this: I have the most amazing husband in the whole entire world AND I really, really, really need to get some more stories.
Well, I got my wish, but it's started to really bite me in the ass. I've had a few encounters in the past week which almost make me wish my husband didn't really listen. For instance, the other day we somehow got on the topic of Spanish class, when I started sharing a clever and funny anecdote. "So this one time in 12th grade Spanish...," I began.
"You held random parties where you made toast in class and yelled 'Ole!' when it popped up?" my adorable husband asked?
"No," I replied. "Actually I was going to say that this one time in Spanish class..."
"You were named Xicotencatl by your teacher which is the name of an ancient Aztec princess?" he asked.
"Actually, no," I said. "Have I already told you these stories?"
"Well, yes," he said.
"How about the one where we all started humming..."
"Da da da dum," my husband finished, humming The Price is Right theme song.
"Okay, what about when my effeminate teacher asked us to conjugate the Spanish verb 'juzgar'..."
"And it turned out to sound like 'who's gay'?" he said ever so sweetly.
"Wow," was all I could muster.
So my husband of 2 years and almost 3 months knows all my stories about high school Spanish. That's at the same time amazing and humbling. He later went on to reveal that he's politely listened to some of these charming tales 2, 3, maybe even 4 or 5 times. Isn't there some sort of award for things like that? I guess the moral of the story is this: I have the most amazing husband in the whole entire world AND I really, really, really need to get some more stories.
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