Our President went on YouTube to say what any mook of elites (I use mook as a collective, like a murder of crows) have said for decades: “What we also know is that there is still biases in our society that in split-second situations, where people have to make quick decisions, that studies have shown that African-American males are seen as more threatening which puts them in more vulnerable positions. Young African-American males are typically seen as older than they are, so a lot of the way to solve this is to improve training so people can be aware of their biases ahead of time.”
I get the sense that this President really doesn’t like mankind much and Americans especially. We are too flawed. That we must endure this unlikable fellow for two more years is heartbreaking. The Constitution will survive; our Country has gone mad before and pulled back from the brink, but I worry about everyday people. He is out to kill our spirit.
“…so people can be aware of their biases ahead of time.”
Are men who say such things aware of their own bias before they talk? Obama once spoke ill of “…folks who cling to guns and religion.” That statement howls of bias. The famously scientific/irreligious Democratic Party has visited upon our nation a man intellectually pleased to smear his constituents with the contrived original sin of bias by decree. He is angry, his party is always angry. He sees bias because his anger blinds him to other possibilities.
I wind this up by mentioning that George W. Bush, another President I grew tired of after two years in office, did afford me the favor of disappearing for the last three years of his term. I think Val Jarrett should buy the smartest mook in the room, the building, on the earth, in the vast time/space continuum, a huge color TV and a great set of Beats, extra-large. Put the big lug in front of that TV and tune it to ESPN. He’ll be happy, we’ll be happy; Good Lord the planet will begin to heal. In fact, let’s ignore all of the politicians and pundits straining to find logic in the state of our union only to prove themselves as self-centered and ideologically horse collared as the actress in the Oval Office. In a large sense, they just don’t matter. They are spirit killers. They are ridiculous, unnecessary, a distortion that obscures natural beauty, form, and possibility.
Suffer fools with humor and a smile. I keep busy with an interest in music and teaching. I don’t remember not loving music. I’ve been told that at age 2 I could be seen strummin’ on the old banjo. At 16, sitting in a music classroom, I suddenly realized I wanted to be just like that man up front. Call it a blind spot, or call it a bias. Whatever, it prevented me a profitable career in dentistry. But I learned that the love of anything can be taught. You just have to truly love it.
Five years earlier my father had given me the greatest gift of my life, an electric guitar and amp. I already owned a couple of acoustics, and there was a piano in the living room, but that guitar and amp threw me for a loop. Every child deserves at least one unbelievably great Christmas present, tailored to meet specific wish and personality. I never sound a first note without thinking of my father’s generosity. The guitar was a red Kay Speed Demon, the amp a Gibson Skylark, the cord a white telephone style, the strap solid black.
I recall seeing all of the possibilities.
Red guitars remain my favorite; I am a sucker for them still. This strange affectation serves as corollary to my belief that any woman named Molly is certain to be of great pleasure where it counts. I recall only two experiences specific to this conclusion, but it remains a bias axiomatic.
Reminiscence as prelude to apology; my recent columns have been diminished by a desire to please what I viewed as an angry audience. Michael Moore, Howard Dean, Seth Rogan, Al Sharpton and a stable of others play to an angry audience. A worker bee, I have been hoping to impress my editor by drawing tweets and posts. Like the aforementioned Molly, my angriest columns drew the most positive and plentiful reaction. Thus a bias was formed.
Carrying anger is like wearing ill-fitting shoes; it eventually hurts everywhere. Sometimes disappointment clouds my morning web excursion, but later I study a piano work by Debussy, record a little song I wrote, prepare dinner for my wife and children, vacuum up, shower down, and head out to share with students the joy of music. Central to the art of teaching is a desire and ability to relate in a generous manner. I worry the art will suffer from a spate of silly movies and TV shows that glorify ugly personalities improving bad restaurants, cakes, drummers, and 5 year old beauty queens.
In this world of 24/7 media all of the participants now behave like a spoiled actress. As a result nothing rings true. Everything is political in this faux world, all of the players are 24/7 fakes. Going to a movie this week, say American Sniper, may be an act of patriotism or an act of tea party terrorism depending upon whether you listen to Sean Hannity or Howard Dean.
The hell if it is either such thing. It’s just going to a movie. That’s all.
Anger casts out clear thinking. It devolves into accusations of bias against someone you do not know or understand. It is dangerous. Worst of all, it blinds you to possibilities.
Today I told you the story of an accountant’s generosity to his no account son. It is a broad tale enveloping the best qualities found in a man and in mankind; our lives, our loves, our muse, our art, our song, our inspired and boundless spirit.
Spirit. It derives from the Latin Spiritus. It means divine breath. One needn’t be religious or a Harvard Grad to understand the larger implications and justifications for granting each individual possession of divine breath. One must only look slightly beyond any self- perceived bias to find a treasure of possibilities.