It’s an election year. That magical time that rolls through every four years when Americans are given the chance to decide who they think is best suited to act as our President. Actually, let me rephrase that—it is the time when Americans are given the illusion of choosing their leader. The truth is that no matter whom we, the American populace, choose to lead our nation, our choice has no real bearing on who actually gets the job.
If one needs proof of this, all they have to do is look to our current President. In a nation where the majority is supposed to rule, we should have a different forty-third president than we do. Bush did not receive the popular vote, but still won the election. How can this be?
I know; I know . . . The Electoral College—that wonderful system based on the ancient Roman system called the Centurial Assembly. How could I possibly forget that?
The Electoral College was created and implemented at a time when the country was much smaller. Since its inception, the Nation has grown considerably, and many things have changed. The number of states in the Union has changed, the number of citizens has changed, technology has changed—drastically—but the Electoral College remains in place.
I’ve come to a place in my life where I’ve begun to question many of the practices of our government. One of the most frequent that pops in my head is how much does my vote really count. You hear people say—hell, I’ve said it myself—“You need to vote! How else can we make a difference? How else can we let our voice be heard?” Deep down, I want to believe that my vote does matter, that my vote does count for something, but I’m beginning to believe that it is nothing more than a ploy by the government to make me feel like I have some say in the way this country is being run.
Since I turned 18, I have voted in every national election I could, but I have never seen my vote make anything happen. I have talked to many people who have gone to the polls, hoping to have their voice heard in Washington, and I don’t know anyone that feels like their vote has accomplished anything.
So, if we are a nation that is supposed to be run by the people, how is it that our votes don’t seem to be doing anything? Are we doing something wrong? If so, what? Is there anything we can do that might make a larger impact on the people that are supposed to be doing what we tell them?
After much thought, I have come up with a proposition. Now, hear me out before you discount it, as it is a little off-kilter. This year, instead of rallying people together to vote for Kerry or Bush or Nader, why not work to convince no one to vote. Make a stand and say that we don’t want any of those people in charge. Stand up and say we’re sick of having to choose between one of a couple of puppets, and simply refuse to vote. Pass out flyers and buttons and hold rallies and convince everyone to stay home on Election Day.
Seriously, what would happen if no one went to the polls this year? Would someone still get elected? If they did, wouldn’t it be painfully obvious at that point that our votes really don’t count? Would they be forced to reevaluate the current system and come up with something else?
I know what most of you are thinking: “Not vote? I can’t do that! I have to have my voice heard! I have to perform that meaningless ritual again so that I can feel like I’ve done something for my country!” I understand where these thoughts and doubts come from; I suffer from them as well. But until the American People stand up for themselves and let Washington know that we don’t like the way things are being run, the politicians are going to continue to do what they want.
I’ve racked my brain to think of some way that we can make a difference in a non-violent way. Violence is counterproductive and is one of the key issues I have with our current government. How quick are they to turn to violence? It seems to me that diplomacy is a relic of days passed. But how else, I’ve asked myself, can we make them take us seriously? How can we make sure that our voice is heard? By telling them, through our refusal to vote, that we are sick of their corrupt systems and demand a change.
I know this is a pipe dream. I know there are too many people hopelessly lost to the system for this to ever work. What would end up happening, is that three or four people (in all probability it would be a much larger number) in each state would still go, and those votes would be the only ones to be counted. They would probably all be Bush supporters, too.
But, if nothing else, hopefully this will help wake us up and make us start thinking about new ways to get our voices heard. Maybe we can discover some new tactic that could actually make a difference.
I have friends that go to protests and feel like they are accomplishing something. I am a fervent believer that protesting is a thing of the past. It doesn’t work anymore, if it ever really did. But unless we come up with something soon, we’re going to be trapped under the heel of a government that does what they want—when they want—without considering what we, the People, think.
I don’t want to live under that kind of government, do you?
This is one of the best and most thought-provoking books I have read in ages. While it is a sci-fi novel about two sister planets, one ruled by an advanced version of our own society and the other a planet of anarchists, the book reads more like philosophy than anything else. Don't let that scare you, though. The story was excellent.
The planet of Anerres is a dry, dusty, arid planet and was unpopulated until citizens of Urras came to mine it for resources like gold and lead. While this was happening, another citizen of the planet of Urras, Odo, began to write and speak out about the virtues of a society where no one owns anything and power is non-existant. The movement her teachings sparked became so prominent and threatening to the governments on Urras that they bought them off with Anerres. The miners and other workers on the dry planet were brought home, and the Odonians (as they came to be known) were sent to establish a new society of their own, free from government, bosses, money, and class. The Dispossessed tells the story of a physicist named Shevek that lived one hundered and seventy-five years after that society began.
The story itself seemed to take a backseat to the ideas that run rampant throughout the text of this book. Thoughts about how a society based on anarchism would and would not work, as well as ideas that made you really take a look at the world around us pervaded each paragraph.
It's difficult to write about this book because there was simply so much going on that I find it hard to focus on any one thing. Last night, after I finished the last few words, I set the book down and immediately thought: I'm going to have to read this again soon. There was so much depth to the world and ideas conveyed that I honestly believe a single reading isn't enough to absorb it all.
Keep in mind (I can't stress this enough), this is not your average read and then put-on-the-shelf-and-never-think-about-again sci-fi novel. It was a true piece of literature, and I had a hard time (at first) believing that it was written by the same woman that wrote A Wizard of Earthsea. Not that there is anything wrong with A Wizard..., mind, I just wasn't expecting such an adult book.
So, I have to say, I loved it and plan on reading it again soon.
First off, I have to say that George R.R. Martin is one of my favorite authors. I have read several of his novels and short story collections, and have been very pleased with all of them. The novel Fevre Dream is no exception.
The novel is set, primarily, in the 1850's and is the story of a steamboat captain named Abner Marsh. In Marsh's recent past he went from a successful owner of five boats to a nearly-ruined owner of one after a harsh winter destroyed his four best steamboats. Because of this tragedy he is picked out by a Mr. Joshua York to help construct and run a new boat, which becomes known as the Fevre Dream. Mr. York is a trifle eccentric, and it does not take Marsh long to discover that his new partner is a vampire.
I don't want to give too much away about this novel, but I feel I have to say that this is not a typical vampire story. The vampires are not your usual undead blood-drinkers. In fact, that aren't undead at all. Martin has taken a very old subject and given it an original twist.
The story is wonderfully crafted and the setting is painted with the vividity that I've come to expect from Mr. Martin. As usual, his characters are real and have a depth to them that leaves you feeling as though you actually know them.
It is obvious that Martin did his research on what life was like for a member of a steamboat crew, as well as on steamboats themselves. I came away from the book having learned the major differences between side- and stern- wheel boats (one of which being the much higher level of manueverability that side-wheel boats possessed). While I may not have ever really wanted to know, the information was conveyed in an interesting way that kept the story moving forward.
If I was to have one gripe with this book, it would be that the story wasn't very suspenseful in the horror sense of the word. While there was definite suspense involved in the fate of certain characters, there wasn't much about the novel that left me feeling like I might have trouble sleeping. Which, as we all know, is the sign of a truly great horror novel.
Despite this, though, fans of both horror and historical novels should enjoy this book thoroughly, even if it's only because of the interesting combination of the two genres.
What day is it? Tuesday? They all seem to run together lately. As Frank said over on the Hot Tub, the weekends go by, and the work-weeks begin anew.
By the way, for those of you thinking "Tony, the work week begins on Monday," I must inform you that I have a Tues-Sat schedule. Therefore, I am a day behind, perpetually.
Anyway, I digress.
The weekend was over too quick and full of near-catastrophes. I thought my water-heater was about to explode on Sunday, but it just needed a little tightening in a couple of places. Leslie's car decided to go Christine on us, and didn't want to stop running when she turned the ignition off and removed the key. It is currently being held at a location that I can't disclose for observation purposes. All I can tell you is there is an old priest and a young priest on hand at all times, just in case. Finally, my hard drive crashed on me yesterday, and I was afraid I had lost copious amounts of work that Ron and I had done for Citizen X and Wes's zombie movie, Dead End. Luckily, though, I think I'm going to be able to salvage everything.
Now, before anyone says anything about backing stuff up to disc, I know. I'm usually pretty good about it, but I've been kind of lax over the past couple of months. This scare has cured me of that laziness, though.
So, tonight, I will be burning stuff like mad so I can gurantee that I won't lose any of it... Any energy that can be sent my way to help ensure this would be appreciated.
Well, until next time...
Thanks to everyone that has commented on the new banner I put up. Several people have asked questions concerning it across several entries, so I figured I'd put a main post up answering them all.
The picture was taken by Ron Hubbard, my co-conspirator in Citizen X. The picture was taken two summers ago for use on the Citizen X website, though it never got used. We took the picture over in downtown Maryville. It was in that scary little parking garage next to where Primo's currently (or, at least, most recently) resides.
So that's the story of that.
Nothing much else is going on right now. I've started plugging away again at the sequel to my novel. I still have no idea when the first one, Forgotten Prophecies, will be out. Sometime between now and December 14th is as good an estimate as I can make. Anyway, I'm at almost 17,000 words on my first draft, and I have no idea how much longer it's going to be. I have a feeling it will be a great deal longer, but if I can keep going at the rate I am, I should have a first draft done in a couple of months. I hope at least.
Anyway, that's all I've got for now...
Tarzan wasn't a ladies' man
He'd just come along and scoop 'em up under his arm
Like that, quick as a cat in the jungle
But Clark Kent, now there was a real gent
He would not be caught sittin' around in no
Junglescape, dumb as an ape doing nothing
Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him
Hey Bob, Supe had a straight job
Even though he could have smashed through any bank
In the United States, he had the strength, but he would not
Folks said his family were all dead
Their planet crumbled but Superman, he forced himself
To carry on, forget Krypton, and keep going
Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him
Tarzan was king of the jungle and Lord over all the apes
But he could hardly string together four words: "I Tarzan, You Jane."
Sometimes when Supe was stopping crimes
I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back
On man, join Tarzan in the forest
But he stayed in the city, and kept on changing clothes
In dirty old phonebooths till his work was through
And nothing to do but go on home
Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him
source of the lyrics.
I broke this album (The Ghosts That Haunt Me by The Crash Test Dummies) out the other day, and have been really impressed by how good it is. I remember listening to it some with Larry back in the day, but I had never really gotten into it. This song has been standing out as one of the best on the album. It is surprisingly sad and moving. I mean, how often do you hear a - truly - sad song based on Superman?
Ok, I saw these articles over at Neil's Journal and thought I would share them with you.
The first one is about these strange fires in a small Italian town. Very interesting stuff...
The second one is about how religion can be taken too far. I don't know. I found this one funny in a really frightening kind of way.
Let me know what you all think.
All right. First of all go here and read this article. Once you're done, come back to read my rant...
First and foremost I want to point out that the guy in question here was pulled over for driving six (6) miles over the speed limit. Six miles!!! Who here has never driven six miles over the limit? That's right! No one. We are all guilty of this at one point of our lives or another.
Now, if the guy was driving around with some type of controlled substance in his car, he should have been watching the speedometer a little closer. He was obviously being careless, but that's beside the point right now. The true question is: Should the fuzz be allowed to "sniff" our cars with a drug dog just for speeding?
I'm sure some people right now are thinking: "Well, I wouldn't mind, because I never have illicit drugs in my car." While that is a semi-valid point, you have to consider the fact that it is still and invasion of privacy.
Hmmm, thought the over-weight officer as he scratched his mustache. This kid was only over the limit by four miles, but he DOES have a Grateful Dead sticker on the back of his car, and he's got long hair. I better call Ronnie over so he can bring the dog.
Maybe I shouldn't care about this, as I do make it a practice to never drive around with illegal substances in my possession, but it still kind of pisses me off. It's just one step closer to Ashcroft's wet dream of no personal rights at all. I could understand them bringing the dogs in if there was smoke pouring out the windows, but just because a guy is acting a little nervous? Hell, everytime I've ever been pulled over I was nervous...
I don't know... I just had to vent...