ThomStratton.com

As a middle-aged, white, Christian male I am the epitome of evil. I know this because people are continually telling me this. And with the excluding of the middle-aged part, it’s pretty much a toss-up over which element makes me the most reprehensible.

And I’m sorry. Sorry that they will no doubt be disappointed when I say I have no intention of changing. Except the middle-age part. I intend to go on living as long as I can in order to become an elderly, white, Christian male. I will continue to be everything they feel to be evil because, well frankly, I’ve not seen anything from them that suggests that their way of living makes them happier than my way of living makes me. In fact, based on what I see, they don’t seem very happy at all. In spite of what they say, they seem to feel that the best response to what they see as hate (and they seem to see everything in terms of hate) is to work up a full head of hate in return.

I don’t want to live that way. And that’s where their ideology seems to lead. I’ve got a life to live, a family to love, a God to follow, a home and yard to work, and furry things to care for. I’ve got people to get to know and work with to try and make our neighborhood, community, and company better. I’ve got stories to write, music to listen to, games to play. I’ve got children to teach and encourage and enjoy.

The people who are so quick to judge me, oddly enough, don’t know me. They look at my “identity” and that’s all they see. To them I can never be Thom Stratton. I will always and only be a middle-aged, white, Christian male, and therefore part of the problem, no matter how much I may actually be doing to be part of the solution that they are still trying to find. They don’t know me, and they don’t seem to care. And so I feel little obligation to care one whit about what they think of me. As the saying goes, “I won’t care how much you know until I know how much you care.” They don’t care about me. They make that frequently and abundantly clear.

I’ve already got what I need to be happy. Until they show me that what they’ve got to offer will make me happier I think it best to ignore them. They can tell me until they’re blue in the face. I’m not from Missouri, but they’re still going to have to show me. And I’ve seen all I need to know.

That way lies madness, not happiness.

So there I was, standing in a three-foot deep pit in a steady rain shoveling muddy sand while someone in a mini-backhoe worked on the other side of the pit shaping out that side. In spite of my rain gear I was soaked, and my muscles were rebelling at repeatedly lifting shovels-ful of wet dirt up to shoulder level and trying to throw it onto a growing pile.

It occurred to me that I was living a college recruitment pitch: if you don’t like digging ditches in the rain, get an education!

But then I thought of the other gentleman running the backhoe. He was in a covered cab, and was letting the machine do the heavy lifting. The machine was rented, so why was he the one driving it? Experience. He had practiced with a backhoe. He may even have had some training. He knew how to make the numerous levers and pedals work together fluidly to make the machine work efficiently. I probably could have done it, but my neighbor was paying by the hour for use of the machine. Where his money was concerned, the best place for his experienced friend was in that backhoe while we were most efficient with shovels doing the work the backhoe couldn’t.

Considering just how much dirt the man with the backhoe was moving, compared to how much both my neighbor and I were moving with our shovels, it’s no wonder the backhoe operator makes more than the ditch-digger with a shovel. The two of us could have worked all weekend–and several more days into this week, probably–to move the same amount of dirt with our shovels and wheelbarrows. On the other hand, there did come a point when the backhoe wasn’t useful any further. The pit we were digging is meant to house a trampoline, and needs to be level. It would also be aesthetically pleasing if the edge of the pit weren’t jagged. That sort of work can really only be accomplished by guys with shovels and mattocks. Everyone has their place.

But in the end I have to admit that it felt good to get out and work, even if it was in the rain. As a guy who gets paid to use his brain (or at least his fingers) all day, to get out there and exercise those large motor muscles can be quite satisfying. My body is not showing its appreciation properly, of course, but if I’ve got to be stiff and sore, it’s nice to at least have a good reason for it.

At the end of the day I’m still grateful for my desk job, but it’s good to be reminded how good it can feel to put in some good, hard work. I’m glad I’m not digging ditches for a living–not that there’s anything wrong with the job, it’s my ability to do it. I’m 5’7″, weighing 135 pounds. When you have a job requiring mass and muscle you want a guy who has those things. As a ditch digger I’d either have to bulk up fast or I’d probably starve. When even half a wheelbarrow load of wet sand can make me stumble around like a drunk, it’s clear I have my limitations. I’m glad I have a job that allows me to use my brain instead of my braun, or natural selection would have deselected me years ago.

Since I’ve got nothing to say today, I give you (and pardon the quote) “The 10 Most Bada** Roman War Heroes“.

Granted, these guys had history on their side, but still… dude!

#1 has been a personal favorite of mine for some time, and #7 as well, but who wouldn’t want to be called “Manlius”? And #2? Wow.

I spent what felt like much of last night dreaming about wandering through the church of another religion. I don’t know which one. All I know is that I was there to help them with their bookkeeping. I’d clearly helped them out before, as many of the people there seemed to know me and were glad to see me. And yet I couldn’t never seem to figure out who I was supposed to talk to about getting started. And, for some reason, it never occurred to me to ask. And so I wandered around and around. Fortunately this was a dream building that was never the same twice, so at least it didn’t get boring.

Oddly enough, I remember even this much. I don’t usually remember my dreams. Perhaps it’s just because it lasted so long, even through waking up once or twice–I’d fall back asleep again and be right back into it. Perhaps because it was because, in spite of it’s apparent meaninglessness and continual lack of progress, it still felt like a good dream and didn’t leave me more tired like meandering, drawn-out, plotless dreams tend to do.

In any case, my apologies. I’m only resorting to telling you about my dreams because I’ve got nothing else to talk about today. I had several posts begun, and even finished, but decided I just didn’t want to publish them. So you get this, instead.  My sympathies.

I know it’s already a joke that people shouldn’t trust what they read online. But that doesn’t stop people from trusting what they read online. Well, here’s some more evidence that you shouldn’t even necessarily trust who you read online. From the Baltimore Sun:

The company’s specialty is rooting out cyber criminals lurking on social media. And when West Baltimore erupted in rioting Monday, its employees felt compelled to apply their skills. ZeroFox worked into the night tracing tweets and Facebook accounts that shared photos of looting and violence.

What they found was that much of the activity was coming from well outside of Baltimore, in some cases from Russia, China, India and the Middle East.

“I just killed a pig,” wrote one tweet, showing a bloodied police officer slumped on the ground. Not only was the photo of an officer in South America, but the account sharing it was not in Baltimore.

Another tweet, which appeared to be coming from the Baltimore police, asked, “Why are we even tweeting?” and suggested that the protesters couldn’t read. It also referred to them with a racial slur.

But the account was one of nearly 100 impersonating police, Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, Gov. Larry Hogan and the Maryland National Guard that popped up amid the protests.

Read the whole thing. Erroneous information online is a problem, but perhaps not so much as the deliberate misinformation online. It’s usually good practice to ask about any piece you read; “Can I verify that this person is real?” “Can I verify this information is true?” “What objective would this information support?” “Am I getting the entire picture, or just someone’s perspective or agenda?”

Question everything–including my insistence on your questioning everything. I may have a hidden agenda.

The rule of law in America is breaking down, without a doubt. But rogue cops are not the primary problem. Not to say there aren’t bad cops, but the real problem is a public who thinks they know the truth about…well, everything. We’ve become more than willing to forego basic legal protections and try everyone in the court of public opinion. We let the media be the prosecution, and we get to be the judge. Our social media of choice gets to file charges, and once we’ve seen those it’s “guilty until proven innocent against all odds.”

By a show of hands, who would like to put their life and livelihood in the hands of this “wonderful” new justice system? Who would want their guilt or innocence determined by a majority vote of the outraged, based on cherry-picked information presented by whomever screams loudest first, and with any contrary evidence that comes out in subsequent days ignored?

Count me out.

Likewise, some people are starting to propose that we nationalize law enforcement. Unsurprisingly, this recommendation was recently made by Al Sharpton, who has benefited immensely from national-level law enforcement for years in the form of an IRS who would rather pursue small business owners for the unforgivable crime of making cash deposits in their bank accounts than even attempt to get Sharpton to pay even some of his millions in back taxes. It’s no surprise he’d prefer to be policed by people who have shown no interest in policing him.

But really, in what universe is turning police duties over to the Federal Government a good idea? Their track record of late is not exactly inspiring. Nor is there any reason to suspect a Federal police force would not only be incompetent but highly-politicized as well. I know some people would see this as a feature, not a bug, and that the ability to harass and punish political enemies is a Constitutional right–so long as it’s their side in control, and not the opposition.

I hope wiser heads prevail.

In the mean time, read this column by Glenn Harlan Reynolds if you need more convincing that a nationalized police force is a good idea.

Great Britain’s Daily Mail has this article on the polar ice cap which, oddly enough, presents both sides of the issue, with quotes and attributions. Perhaps not everyone has forgotten how to do journalism.

If you read this, read all of it. I don’t think it says what either side will undoubtedly think it says. Yes, the writer seems to take a stand, but look past that and you’ll get, I believe, a clearer picture of what’s going on and what forces are in play.

UPDATE: I’ve got to ding myself just a little here. I didn’t notice the date of the article: August 2014. This news is a little old, and a new cycle is under way. It remains to be seen what will happen this year.