#Hashbrowns

First we came for the landless, and we spoke up for them, because the suffering of the poor among us is the suffering of all.

Then we came for the enslaved, and we spoke up for them, because no man has the right to own another man.

Then we came for the the immigrant, and we spoke up for them, because we are the land of opportunity, where all can build a new life.

Then we came for the women, and we spoke up for them, because gender does not determine value.

Then we came for the people of color, and we spoke up for them, because there remained issues of the past which had not been resolved.

Then we came for the homosexuals, and we spoke up for them, because love is a virtue to be honored and cherished.

And so we have come for all: the rich and poor, man and woman, all races, all creeds, all identities.

And so we will continue to come for our brothers and sisters. Where ever there are chains, inequities, and hatred, we will speak and we will fight. There are voices that align against this, saying they enjoy the status quo, that raising others to their elevated status in fact diminishes them. Or that we cannot change the world.

On this last point, they are right. The world needs improvement. It will always need improvement. It will ever be enough.  And so, we will come to the aid of those that need, forever. Equality moves at the speed of Zeno’s Paradox. We can, and must, walk those infinite steps.

Stand up, speak out, and keep walking. For Liberty, Equality, and Brotherhood. Until the end.

My father died 15 years ago.

In the time since then, my mother went from holding an unused BA in Anthropology to a Master of Nursing and teaches at Washington University’s nursing school. My sister has become a professional who helps graduate students complete their work. My brother has become a modest success as a musician. My grandparents’ health has slowly failed, bit by bit, but they are still quite alive and good for it.

I’ve lost friends, and gained others, seen people grow and relationships blossom. The people who mean things to me are, for better or worse, mostly healthy, vibrant, and taking life as it comes, and I’d like to think I’m keeping pace. Family, however we define it, is all we’ve got. And my family, here in St. Louis and Columbia, and extending out in Diaspora to Kansas City and Camdenton and North Carolina and Texas and New York and Florida and anywhere else you can name, is what I still hold very dear.

For me, Father’s Day offers little occasion for gift giving or family outings. It instead gives me occasion to think back to my Bar Mitzvah, one of the last times I can remember my father being able to attend a big, public event. I think back to that day, that declaration that “Today, I am a man,” and I consider if he would approve of the man I am today, of the family I surround myself with, and the ethical choices I make.

I think he would. I love you all.

Happy Father’s Day, family of friends.

In ancient Rome, among the bloodsports of the Arena, there existed classes of Gladiators. Enemies were paired off based on balancing strengths and weaknesses, or for the sake of quasi-reenactments. Two of the more common types, the Hoplimachus and the Thraex, were based on Greek and Tracian soldiers, using their arms and armor of the same style. These would be pitted against gladiators representing Romans, and the audience could vicariously live out the thrill of these prior conquests.

Every time we load up Call of Duty to re-battle the German Army, we engage the same behavior. the Modern Warfare series, portraying fictional conflicts with modern enemies, indulges the same cultural chauvinism without having to first win a war against that foe.

I refer you to this little tidbit wherein we celebrate our recent military history.

The attachment of the notoriously corrupt band of murderers makes this more uniquely vile, but the problems presented here arise industry wide. And this industry is symptomatic of the most vulgarly Roman Imperial habits of our nation. Of course we are superior. We won the war. Even wars we lost, we won. Just ask us. And so we collect these victories, and live in the nostalgia, celebrating our history of violence.

Francois Truffaut said “There is no such thing as an anti-war movie.” The same is true of video games, but perhaps to an even heightened intensity. Games thrive on shallow conflict. Not only is a war glamorized, it is mandatory.

20 some odd years ago, Wealthy Logging Industrialist Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha were gunned down outside the Vancouver Opera House. Known as Tom and Midge, they were beloved pillars of the community. Their son, Bruce, better known as “Young Dave” has sworn to honor their memory. He has dedicated a trust fund in their honor with a mandate to work toward the reduction and elimination of Cholera in the Third World.

Young Dave is widely considered the most eligible bachelor in the province; wealthy, intelligent and handsome with the training of an Olympic athlete, holding a Bronze for Skeleton from the Torino games. Despite all this, he has never married, declaring that he is married to his work. While he does hold the controlling interest of Wayne Industries, his primary work is that of honoring his parents, fighting crime as a Corporal in the RCMP.

Fucking Canadians.