University of the Cumberlands

As I sit here getting my pre-New Year's celebration going with a very nice bottle of champagne, I am reminded of why I hardly ever go to my undergraduate alma mater, which is now called the University of the Cumberlands (formerly known as Cumberland College).

Although it is a Southern Baptist institution by association, I couldn't help but notice that the campus has "churched" itself up tremendously since I enrolled there over a decade ago. Church was an important part of the college's activities, but it was not so loudly broadcasted throughout the campus. Now, there are giant Moses-esque tombstone-like plaques reminding students of the infamous "Ten Commandments." 

I suppose this occurred after they expelled the poor gay boy for being, well, gay! Ironically, because of that silly business, the school lost its state funding for a pharmacy school. It was more than fitting justice that a Republican governor of Kentucky had to side with the liberals on the fact that taxpayers' dollars could not be used to fund an institution that discriminates against anyone. Amen!

I also noticed the "First Family" of the college is growing in power and influence. Before, there was simply the James H. Taylor II Stadium, which is named in honor of the president's eighteen year old son who was killed in an automobile accident in 1991. There is some scandal surrounding his death. The official report says that he was driving on a wet road and ran through a pole as his car left the roadway. The unofficial report says that he was liquored up while driving on a wet road and ran through a pole as his car left the roadway. (See how few details make an account make even more sense?) Either way, he is memorialized with a college building named in his honor. 

Today, while I was passing through, I couldn't help but notice that part of the O. Wayne Rollins Center has been renamed in honor of the president's wife. Part of the Rollins Center is now called the Dinah Taylor Aquatics Center. I'm sure the now dead millionaire, who donated the money to have the athletics complex built, doesn't mind sharing his glory with the First Lady of the University of the Cumberlands. (I thought naming buildings came from generously sharing your wealth with a school, not sleeping with its president.) 

Moving on...

Most of all I was disappointed to see the bust of one of the college's presidents, J.M. Boswell, moved to a new location on campus. Before, he sat on a major thoroughfare of student foot traffic, where he was often the subject of late night pranks, such as wearing a pink bra with red lipstick and being dressed up for a Hawaiian luau. He is now in a less traveled part of campus. It appears as if they have filled up the water fountain, which was occasionally filled with dish soap, with dirt. Boswell's bust now sits in the middle of the landscaping of the former water fountain.

As with all things, time has a way of changing landscapes and ideas. On a lighter note, I noticed that my old campus mailbox has the same combination. Oops! I will remember that number until the day I die. I may be ravaged by the effects of dementia and Alzheimer's, in the future, but I will remember the combination to my mailbox! Oh, those were the days.

Double Standard

Something unusual happened today. I was at the Post Office, more appropriately I was in the parking lot. Before I got out of my car, I noticed a student that I had had before in class. I decided to wait in the car until she came out to avoid an uncomfortable meet-and-greet. As this student was exiting the Post Office, a car pulled up next to mine. Through a sheer act of serendipity, the person who got out of the car was one of my elementary school teachers!

In that second, three generations of education were converging into a single point. I did exactly what I didn't want my student to do. I rolled down my window and started hollering at my former teacher. It didn't seem hypocritical to me. I wanted to speak to someone I hadn't seen or heard from in ages. I wanted her to know that I was still out there and remembered her. Most of all, I wanted to thank her dedication and wish her well.

Upon reflection, perhaps that is all any of my former students want from me when they see me out in public. I was excited to see someone with whom I had spent nine months of my life. In the future, I will be more sensitive to that need from my students. The only problem with that is I can never remember their names. I can remember faces, but seldom can I remember their names. I'm not sure if my teacher remembered me or not. That was not the point, right?

Fred Flintstone gets an "erocktion"

This excerpt from Family Guy was too funny not to share. It makes me laugh out loud each time I see it!

Terror in Detroit

What's going on in Schiphol? 

A U.S. bound plane from Amsterdam to Detroit is the focus of an attempted terrorist's act. If it hadn't been for the quick action of some passengers the scenario may have played out quite differently. 

To answer my own question, though, why would a world class facility, such as Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, allow someone with an incendiary device through its security? Let me paint a picture for you using a personal experience.

While returning home from one of my trips to Paris, I encountered a lapse in security at Charles de Gaulle International Airport. Now, you'd imagine that Charles de Gaulle, or as the French call it, Roissy, being one of the top airports in Europe, would have impeccable security. Well, it does, if you use it consistently. 

I was boarding a trans-Atlantic flight from Paris to Cincinnati. International airports serving airports in the U.S. are required by the TSA to conduct the same security protocols as implemented in the United States for domestic and international flights.  In the United States, they do everything but Roto-Rooter your ass (and even then some people get that privilege). 

But back to Roissy. 

As we approached the metal detectors, a sign clearly stated--in French and English--we had to remove our shoes and place them in a plastic bin for extra screening; however, most people were not removing their shoes. Security officers simply allowed those people who had kept their shoes on to pass quietly through security, my party included! (Let's face it, taking your shoes off in public is not a very appealing thing to do.)

Am I saying that x-raying our shoes would have stopped a terrorist attack? No. But I am saying that basic security protocols were not enforced; therefore, who can say if all the basic security protocols in Schiphol were enforced? Europe is a lot less anal about these sorts of things. They think Americans have a stick up their ass for being so hard-nosed about invading people's privacy.

Come to think of it, they might be right!

How to unfriend during the holidays

The top word of 2009 was "unfriend." It is something that you do on social networking websites, such as Facebook, which I use religiously (pardon the pun). It is when you dump a friend from your network of friends.

I have never unfriended someone before. Well, not until last night, at least. It was in the spirit of the holidays that I set this lone, confused parasite of a person free. You see, she is what I call a hypocritical bigot. I can tolerate many things from my friends, such as ignorance, stupidity, cluelessness, shamelessness, hot-headedness, even incest, but never bigotry!

First, it started with insulting my love of Halloween. Apparently, for some people, it is a time to use Christian fanaticism to crush other people's spirit of fun and laughter, because, let's face it, with an attitude like that, they aren't having any fun at home. Then it progressed into the materialism of Thanksgiving. Blah, blah! (It's pretty bad when you can find fault with Puritans. What a prude!)

The final straw was last night, when she said teaching kids about Santa, which by the way is an anagram for SATAN, is telling your children it is okay to lie. Obviously, if someone asks your kids, "What is Santa bringing you this year for Christmas?" They might as well have cocked a gun against the kid's head and said, "Give me all of your candy canes." 

It's preposterous! 

After last night's unsolicited anecdote, I decided it was time to unfriend this person. To set her free, if you will. I certainly could not listen to her harping on drunkenness in the New Year. My gin-soaked heart really would be broken!

So, Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa!  And Happy Boxing Day, too! Onward, Eid-al-Fitr, and any other Muslim high holy day I may have forgotten. This is to you, the intolerant, the bigoted stew of America's undercurrent of hate and hypocrisy. 

Happy Holidays! (Yes, I do say that, too.) And FYI: when I see your Friend Request on my Facebook page again, I have a new friend, his name is IGNORE.

Fox News (if you can call it news)

As if we need another reason to know Fox News is insane, here is their assault against the White House Christmas tree decorations.

Click here to see the ornaments that are causing such a whirlwind among right-wing conservatives. Enjoy!

90 days in the helium chamber

The parents of a Colorado boy, who was reported to have hitched a ride to Oz in his dad's makeshift Reynold's wrap balloon, were sentenced to jail, community service, and financial restitution, for defrauding law enforcement agencies.

The poor kids will be scarred more by this incident than the media, law enforcement or their father and mother. I think it is a fitting end, however, to such a desperate attempt for publicity. If only they had coached Junior to lie better before they went on Larry King Live. Maybe, he'll do better next time.

'Tis the time to give

The holiday season is finally upon us. People are maxing out what credit they have left on their credit cards, before they default on their debt in January. Ah, to be an American at Christmas-time. This season I am reminded of that it is better to receive than give. When I go shopping for someone else (hint, hint), I always end up buying an assload of crap for myself, and forgetting who it was I intended to shop for in the first place. (I blame it on the ADHD I diagnosed myself as having.)

It's the season about me!

My family doesn't really do gifts. We eat and spend some time together. I don't really know why, other than it is part of our twisted holiday celebration. I just accept it, and go on with my life. It's not that major.

As a teacher, I am prone to receive gifts from my students. Some of them are sweet and well-planned, while others are spontaneous and tacky. But, in the end, it is the thought that counts, and I love everything I get. This year, I have to share a particular gift I received.

It came in a shiny, red box. It was wrapped in tissue and faux cotton. At first, I thought it was a hat, but then I realized the box was much too small. Then, I thought it may be jewelry. (Yikes.) I was eager to open up the box and feast my eyes upon something well-planned out and thoughtful. My pupils dilated with bated anticipation, no doubt.

Wow! I held my breath for a prolonged time, because I had to engineer a response to what was swaddled there in the green tissue. "Wow!" was all I could think of in that moment. I was overwhelmed by confusion and that nagging voice in the back of my mind asking repeatedly, "What the eff?"

I can fake compliment you all day long. One day, I will be recognized by the Academy for my genuine, heartfelt performances. But, I digress. There in the green tissue was something most unexpected. At first, I felt a bit insulted. But I said, "Thank you." The other students were shocked with curiously confused questions, such as, "What the heck is that?"

Yes, nestled there in the warmth of my then sweating palm was a tube of Chapstick. It wasn't even the flavored kind either. It was the original. I put it back in the box, which cost more than the item it concealed, and set it aside. Today, I came to the realization that this simple tube of 89¢ Chapstick, in its $3.00 box, was the perfect gift. I just put some on (after I carefully inspected to make sure it was indeed fresh and unused). It is the gift that will last far beyond December 25. It is the gift of happy lips.

The moral of the story? Be happy with what you get. But most of all, be prepared for the gift that you never anticipated, because it is coming, and it will blow your mind!

Whine, Whine, Whine

The United States Senate is dragging its feet deep into the ground as it entrenches itself for what will shape up to be a real let down for the American people. 

I am a bit puzzled when the Democrats hold a majority and they cannot get anything accomplished. I remember that the Republicans did whatever they wanted when they had a majority. They certainly never built any bridges of consensus with the Democratic minority. Now, Democrats are having to water down the healthcare overhaul plan, which really will end up being a screwed up version of what we have always had, which is essentially the middle class and upper class being able to afford healthcare, while the lower class has to do without healthcare or depend on public assistance, such as Medicaid. 

As we all know, Barack Obama was never fully behind universal healthcare. His words before the 2008 presidential election were merely face time with those who wanted equity in our health system. Hillary Clinton was adamant that every single American be insured, either privately or publicly. Another disturbing piece to this ugly puzzle is the fact President Obama is unwilling to fight for his own bill. He went to Congress once. If I were him, and it was truly important to me, I'd be on Capitol Hill every single day until the members of Congress did what was right for the American people. 

Now let's move on to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Barack Obama promised that these wars would be ended within 18 months of him becoming president. Instead, we see escalation of the conflict in Afghanistan by sending an additional 30,000 American troops into that lost country. What is the point, really? Will these additional troops benefit the people of Afghanistan? I do not believe they will. It is merely a way to appease those people who say Obama is too weak to be Commander-in-Chief. It takes more courage to do what is right, such as withdrawing our troops, rather than giving into to the policies of George W. Bush's two terms as president. 

In the end, isn't that who Barack Obama is? He is merely a newer, more eloquent, dolled up version of George W. Bush. I hate to say it, but it is true. He didn't really accomplish anything that he set out to do. Healthcare reform is a joke, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan press on, and the economy is still reeling. It may have only been 11 months, but I really believe that more could have been accomplished. He should have hit the floor running on January 20, 2009 at 12:01pm, but instead he dilly-dallied around and let the special interests dig in a bit deeper, so they can do what they do best: run the country from the inside.

I may sound bitter. That's because I am. In our greatest time of need, we needed a doer rather than a dreamer. We needed someone who can get the job done, without having to learn on the fly.

Faux Pas

If you have had open heart surgery, or any surgery with a massive scar for that matter, please do not wear a shirt with a plunging neckline!

Today, a co-worker wore a shirt that exposed a fibrous scar screaming to everyone, "I've had my chest cracked open!" It may sound trivial, but I kept staring at her chest. No, no, I wasn't looking at her boobs; I'm gay!