August 15: Paul Lazzaro, Racism, KKK Ideology

Somewhere in there, old Edgar Derby was elected head American.  The Englishman called for nominations from the floor, and there weren't any.  So he nominated Derby, praising him for his maturity and long experience in dealing with people.  There were no further nominations, so the nominations were closed.

"All in favor?"

Two or three people said, "Aye."

Then poor old Derby made a speech.  He thanked the Englishman for his good advice, said he meant to follow it exactly.  He said he was sure that all the other Americans would do the same.  He said that his primary responsibility now was to make damn well sure that everybody got home safely.

"Go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut," murmured Paul Lazzaro in his azure nest.  "Go take a flying fuck at the moon."

If you haven't already noticed, Paul Lazzaro is a pretty nasty character.  Petty.  Angry.  Mean.  Eventually, he will murder Billy Pilgrim, more than twenty years after the conclusion of World War II.  Lazzaro is an example of the kind of person who lives to hate.  Hate and revenge are his only reasons for being alive.

If Paul Lazzaro were alive today, he would have been in Charlottesville this past weekend, marching in a white robe and hood.  I have no doubt about that.  He wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to participate in an event that centered on violence and hatred.  In a way, I think that Paul Lazzaro is sitting in the Oval Office right now.

I have a confession to make:  I come from a background of racism.  I was born in Detroit in the October following the 1967 riots.  I only lived in the city a few years before my parents moved our family to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Therefore, I was spared the kind of rampant racial hatred that seems to pervade a lot of people of my parents' generation from Detroit.

Not that there isn't racism in the U. P.  There is.  One of my neighbors down the street just recently put a "Team Trump" sign back on his lawn.  And nobody has stolen the sign or defaced it with a swastika.  Both of those thoughts have crossed my mind.  So, either the other people in my neighborhood are extremely tolerant liberals, or they are Trump supporters.  Or they don't care, which I think is a little bit worse.

I know, as a white person, that I probably haven't done 99% of what I should do to combat racism and bigotry.  I try to raise my kids to be accepting and loving.  I don't judge people, unless they happen to have Trump signs in their yards.  When I teach, I talk to my students about acceptance and tolerance.  (I have been accused of being too political in my student evaluations on occasion.  Don't really care if I make a few close-minded young people uncomfortable.  That's part of the college experience--being challenged.)  I do my best, but perhaps that isn't good enough.

I have a friend who moved to New Zealand because Donald Trump was elected.  (My friend was probably going to move there anyway, but the election simply accelerated his departure.)  I don't think that abandoning ship is the answer.  It may have solved the problem for my friend, and that's great.  But I'm not sure I can simply walk away from rampant racism.  For me, that solves nothing.

However, I don't have any definitive answers other than telling people that I believe alt-right is simply a synonym for white supremacy.  It's watered down Ku Klux Klan ideology.  The KKK hasn't gone away.  It has rebranded itself and gotten a man elected President of the United States.  I will say that to anybody who cares to have a civil discussion with me.

Saint Marty is thankful tonight for Heather Heyer and all the people who stood up for love last weekend in Virginia against the Paul Lazzaros of the world.

April 23: "Carol" Dipping, Creating a Final, Nervous Answer

As always, I will do a Carol dip this twenty-third day of April, Monday, in the year of our Lord 2012.  I do this simply because my brain doesn't fire on all pistons on the first day of the work week.  It's easier simply to come up with a life question, and then let Charles Dickens do the rest of the work.  My only job is to interpret the answer I receive.  I don't know why, but I get nervous about these random responses from the book of Carol.  As if they really mean anything or hold any power over my future.  I just hate gloomy, negative prospects.  Even when I was a kid, I would shake the Magic 8 Ball until it gave me the answer I wanted.

Before I shake the Magic 8 Ball this morning, however, I just wanted to share my agenda for today.  The most important task I have to complete is creating the final exam for my mythology class.  It shouldn't take too long, but I hate the whole process.  I don't like trying to design a test that basically demonstrates two things.  First, how much my students have learned/not learned during the second half of the semester.  Second, how effective/ineffective I was as a teacher during the second half of the semester.  Obviously, these two factors are very closely related.

Now that I have that off my chest, I will move forward with my question for the Christmas Spirits this early a.m.:

Will I ever win the Nobel Prize in Literature?  (Hey, I might as well go for the gold.)

And my answer from A Christmas Carol is:

The cold became intense.  In the main street at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:  warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture.

Well, I like the scene being described.  In the face of glacial deprivation, a bright beacon of warmth shines forth.  Like moths to a candle, people gather around this flame, warming themselves, finding pleasure in its nascent greatness. 

Yes, Virginia, there will be a Nobel Prize in your future.  Your literary genius will not be denied by the world.  Young and old alike will celebrate your fame and talent in rapture.  In a cold, dark world, you will be a source of hope and light.

Saint Marty better start working on his acceptance speech.

I gotta get a copy of this book