You call that patriotism?
Chuck Norris is calling on his fellow tea partiers to deface the American flag. I'm not kidding.
I suggest you fly some revolutionary flag in lieu of your 50-star flag over the next year. Post the 13-star Betsy Ross flag, Navy Jack or Gadsden flag ("Don't Tread on Me") or any representation that tells the story of Old Glory and makes a stand for our Founders' vision of America.
Of course, patriots know that the 50-star flag truly represents one nation under God and our Founders' republic, but modernists simply don't get it. So what do you say we make a statement by flying a different flag and educate our neighbors when they ask us, "Why are you flying that flag instead of the contemporary Stars and Stripes?" (If you insist on posting a modern USA flag, too, then get one that is tea-stained to show your solidarity with our Founders.)
Really? Stain the flag? I have a better idea Chuck, maybe you could show your dissatisfaction with the government by stomping on the flag or burning it.
I'm not an aging former martial arts star with a Townhall column, so maybe I'm not up to snuff on this, but, when I was in the Cub Scouts, they taught us that soiling the flag was a definite no-no. It's this kind of suggestion that usually drives conservatives to write, call and shout at their congressional representatives to pass laws and constitutional amendments criminalizing flag desecration. For the record, I oppose such laws because I see them as the thin end of the wedge that leads to complete abandonment of the First Amendment. However, i do expect people who claim to respect the flag to actually - you know - respect the flag. This kind of suggestion seem to me to be of a part with those who want to demonstrate their patriotism by seceding and dismantling the Union.
Beyond the forehead smacking idiocy of his suggestion, Norris' column and the comments that follow offer an insightful glimpse into what my friend David Neiwert calls the eliminationist mindset. Norris sets up the us-or-them framework. Naturally, he calls his side the "patriots." What's surprising is what he calls his side's perceived enemies (that's us, dear readers); he calls us "modernists." While conservatism is anti-modern at its core, it's rare to see such an open admission from anyone, except the most extreme fundamentalist, that they are in revolt against the modernity....
I've never had a surprise party.
I had a surprise baby shower. It was actually awesome, once I got over the surprise. (80+ neighbors, many of whom didn't know me and I didn't know them, had a shower for Ellie while Joe was deployed. Almost all of them were retired and I think they really enjoyed it and I certainly did.) But the initial shock made me feel awkward and weird and obligated. Like, "but I didn't get you anything!!"
I learned tonight Thursdays are not the night to go to the pool late. Massive swim lesson, one lane for laps, 4 people sharing, one a real slowpoke. Had to pause a lot, though not for long, so it was almost like 1000+m without stopping. Almost, but not quite.
That was sweet of the neighbors, Stephanie.
Attn: Awesomesauce Allyson! Our Admin just told me about this great book her brother bought her--Vampire People!
Are we discussing FlashForward anywhere?
In math writing, the accepted way to phrase things is "we." "We know that A is true, and therefore Lemma 3 indicates that B is true." "We can see that x=y." And so on. It took me a long while to get used to that.
That "be clever" instruction would have sent me into hyperventilation in seventh grade. Especially if I didn't have a good sense of the teacher's sense of humor yet -- at that age, there were plenty of things that I thought were funny that other people just didn't get, and I hadn't yet figured out how to decide what were references that everyone would understand and what weren't, and I just knew that I was not good at being clever. And being clever while taking a test would just not happen.
Hil's post immediately reminded me of a sixth-grade assignment that was so mind-bogglingly hard, that I was so inapt for, that 1, I still remember it to this day, and 2, I'm kind of mad that I had to do this. As part of some kind of NASA-sponsored project, we had to
design a space station.
I mean, WTF? I know every boy in class had a marshmallow space station with eleven prow-lasers already in their mind, but I was TWELVE. I know fuck-all about drawing, let alone space stations. I still remember the frustration of trying to figure out what you could need in a space station. At TWELVE. I couldn't do it NOW. And it was a competition. And we had to work in groups. STILL MAD.
