Paging Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, Dr. Howard

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So, the other day I was walking through the grocery store. I happened upon the cold cuts aisle, stopping just long enough to ponder my many choices of luncheon meat, when one particular type of ham caught my eye. It was labeled Oscar Mayer Honey Cured Ham. I began to ponder: what sort of disease was this ham cured of? Would I want to take a chance eating ham that had been infected with something even if it had been cured? Is it wrong for me to be prejudiced against previously-sick lunch meat, because, after all, the package said it had been cured?  And just what sort of disease can be cured with honey? Ah! That is the key isn't it?

My brain began to churn as it only can when focused on food. If whatever disease had infected this ham could be cured with honey, might there be more diseases also curable with other sweet, delicious confections? What about M&Ms? Is there some sort of malady or affliction that can be remedied by the regular and copious ingestion of M&Ms? I mean, other than skinniness, that is. After all, there has to be a reason why my friends and I refer to this wonderful creation as "Vitamin M," doesn't there?

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And if I had just been so lucky...errrrr... I mean unfortunate to contract a disease that is only treatable by M&Ms, would I ever want to be fully cured? I think not. I can totally see myself becoming one of those chronic, hypochondriac, malingerers, calling my doctor five or six or seven times a day to tell him that my dosing is all wrong and that I need need more.  Of course, he would try to tell me that I was crazy or that I was cured or that I should stop following him and calling him at all hours of the evening. But really? Who's the expert here?  That's right: I am.

In the end, I opted for smoked turkey. Because, if you stop and think about it, smoking kills. So I automatically knew what killed this turkey: smoking. I don't know what killed that ham. I mean, sure it was sick, but it had been cured right? I thought it best not to take any chances with the pork. And just to be safe I picked up a big old bag of M&Ms on my way out. You can never be too careful.

Great News!!!! I Hate You!!!!

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Two recent news stories caught my eye and got me thinking.  The first was news that vampire novelist and Catholic-turned-atheist-turned-Catholic Anne Rice has announced that she is leaving Christianity.  Apparently, she was "tired of having to be anti-gay and anti-feminist" and can no longer be associated with "this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group."  The second was about employees of an Ohio strip club protesting outside a church whose members had been protesting outside their club for four years.

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While I have never read any of Rice's books or seen "Interview With A Vampire", and I must also confess to never having been a stripper or having been inside a strip club, I can see where these people are coming from and why they'd want to turn the tables and do some picketing of their own.  To many in our society, Christians are just another group of angry people, shouting and waving their fingers in everybody's faces.

How did this come to be?

Roll back the clock two thousand years, to that first Easter Sunday.  There the Apostles were, gathered together to ponder and discuss what to do next.  Their spiritual mentor and leader whom they followed for three years was dead.  Everything they thought they knew to be true was taken from them and they were adrift in the world.  Jesus was not going to free Israel from Roman bondage, nor was he going to be healing any of the sick or challenging the Pharisees.

Jesus was dead.

But what happened next would cause all of them to leave that place and spread the story of Christ throughout the Roman Empire.  To a man, they would all give their lives in Christ's service and in the name of Christianity.  They fanned out across the known world, sharing the Gospel with others, who in turn shared it with their friends, spreading this new faith until it became the dominant religion of the West.

But what did happen next, to make these dejected young men go out and willingly lay down their lives for God?  Jesus appeared to them and spoke to them.  Did He say "Go out and confront some gays and strippers, get all up in their faces and tell them they are going straight to HELL!!!!  While you are at it, round up some feminists and liberals and roast them on a big fire."?

Not exactly.

Did He get the team into a huddle and tell Peter "You go here and preach that God hates those people, and Stephen can go over here and tell them how much our heavenly father just can't wait to smite them"?

Not hardly.

What fired these guys up so much and changed their lives (and the world) forever is the realization that God sent His Son to the earth to save it because....wait for it...He LOVES us and does not want us to be separated from Him any longer.  Through Jesus's resurrection, God showed that He can overcome anything, even death.

These guys got plugged into the greatest news ever in the history of the world: The Creator of the Universe loves each and every one of us and wants us to have a relationship with Him.

"But, Fat Kid," a good and honest Christian might protest, "surely God is not at all happy with what these young ladies and their gentleman clients do at these clubs.  They need to be shut down."

As a father of two precious daughters,  I can tell you with absolute certainty that little girls do not grow up dreaming of becoming strippers.  Or prostitutes.  Or heroin addicts.  Or drug mules.  They dream of becoming ballerinas and zoo keepers and musicians and princesses.  Unfortunately, this foul world we live in puts these ladies in circumstances such that they seek male attention and money in very, very wrong ways.  Most of them fall into that terrible life and cannot get out.  And they cannot get out because they never encounter people who tell them that they are better than that.  Nobody who works in or frequents the clubs can share with them that there is a powerful and loving God who can take them out of that life and turn them into something new.  That there is hope and life and redemption awaiting outside for them.

And why isn't there anybody telling them this?  Because the very people who should be sharing the Good News (it is, after all, what the word "Gospel" means) are condemning them and telling them that God hates them.  Protesting outside a strip club isn't any more likely to lead anybody who works there or seeks out their pleasures there to come to church and hear what God has to say than the strippers protesting outside the church will cause the pastor's wife to start pole dancing for money.

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Churches and all their members should have a heart for the lost.  They should have a never-ending and burning passion to reach out to people who need to know that God loves them. Introduce someone who is lost to God, let Him turn their life around.  Call me simplistic, but if those churchgoers had been ministering to the people at the strip club and sharing God's divine and infinite love, they wouldn't have to protest to get it shut down because it would close on its own due to lack of business.

Perhaps Christians would be more effective if we followed Jesus's example.  He did not condemn the tax collector, the prostitute, or any other sinner.  Instead, He met them where they were (He even invited himself to dinner at the tax collector's house), showed them His divine mercy by healing their infirmities or forgiving their sins, and then instructed them to "Go, and sin no more."  He did, however, heap particular scorn on the Pharisees - religious people who allowed their own incorrect interpretation of God's will to entangle those seeking God and interfering in the relationship between God and the average person.  This is not to say that we should not hold true to our core values and stand up for what we believe is right.  We should, however, keep our eyes on the Great Commission that Jesus gave to all of us - spread the good news.

I fear that as Christianity moved from a religion of the oppressed into the religion of the ruling class, the focus shifted from individuals sharing God's love with their neighbor and toward finding fault with our neighbor and looking for ways to reject them.  We must take care to make sure we emulate Jesus and not the Pharisees as we reach out to the lost.

A Boy Named Goo

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As both a native of Buffalo, NY and an avid student of history, I could fill you in on every good thing that has come out of Buffalo in the past 200 years.  There is (obviously) the chicken wing - what people outside of Western New York refer to as a "Buffalo wing."  That's an easy one.  The Erie Canal begins (or ends) in Buffalo, and its proximity to Niagara Falls causes many who would not otherwise visit the Queen City to do so.

The Buffalo Bills hold a singular (albeit dubious) distinction in accomplishing a feat that will never, ever be duplicated in losing four consecutive Super Bowls.  Buffalo has been host to a Pan_American Games, at which President William McKinley was assassinated, leading to the swearing in (in Buffalo) of Teddy Roosevelt as new the President.  Millard Fillmore called Buffalo home, as did Grover Cleveland, the only President to serve two non-consecutive terms (he won the popular vote in all three of his presidential contests).  Republican presidential contender and H.U.D. Secretary Jack Kemp was from Buffalo, even playing for a few years as quarterback of the Buffalo Bills.  Newsmen Wolf Blitzer and the late Tim Russert hailed from my hometown.  Mark Twain also spent much time there, although he found San Francisco summers colder than Buffalo winters, so he must have been just a summer visiter.

Perhaps all these eclectic and esoteric offerings from Buffalo are inaccessible to the Average Joe and he may say "So, really, what has Buffalo ever done for me?"  To which, I would answer "Well, there's also the Goo Goo Dolls," leaving Average Joe to respond "Ah, you have saved the best for last because, quite frankly, aside from the Buffalo wing and Buffalo Bills, I had no idea what all that other stuff is."

Why my sudden interest in the Goo Goo Dolls?  My precious ten year old daughter loves the band Switchfoot.  Why?  Because like all ten year old girls who have an older brother, she looks up to him and likes what he likes.  And her fourteen year old brother's favorite band is Switchfoot.  And Switchfoot was the opening band for the Goo Goo Dolls here in Phoenix tonight, and Mrs. Fat Kid and I took them to the concert.  This was the third time we had taken our boy to see Switchfoot, but this was our little girl's first concert and I was unsure how she would do with all the noise and lights.  Fortunately, a great time was had by all, and my little princess got up and rocked to The Sound and Meant to Live, two simply awesome tunes.




What was even better was that after their set, they invited their fans to meet them in the lobby of the venue.  We took the kids to meet them and they were all great to talk to.  Their drummer even took a picture with my boy (who is quite an avid drummer himself).  Each member of the band shook all of our hands, gave every as many autographs as we wanted, and seemed genuinely interested in interacting with their fans.

Then the Goos came onstage.  All I can say is that it was the closest thing to having fun without actually having any fun that I have experienced.  Sure, they were OK and most of the songs they played you'd recognize if you listened to the  radio at all over the past ten years.  But the most common thought I had with each new song was "Didn't they just play that one?" because all their songs sound alike.

I suppose that I should have known from the first number that something foul was afoot.  The bass player was running around the stage, all excited, banging on his bass guitar like he was really working it.  Of course, he was not working it.  Unless your name is Flea or you play bass in Primus or some speed metal band, you could probably have your instrument unplugged and nobody would notice.  Sorry, bass players, but that's just the way it is.  If your band is boring (Goo Goo Dolls) and your instrument is boring (bass guitar) you have to overcompensate by running around the stage, jumping up and down and trying to convince all of us that you are working really hard and having loads of fun.

I don't even know if Switchfoot has a bass player, but if they do, he wasn't running around the stage trying to show people how much fun he was having, which means he was probably a pretty good bass player.  Or else he had a really, really short cord to his amp and has to stand in one place lest he accidently unplug his instrument.

Anyway, if you have a chance to see Switchfoot, I would recommend that you do so, even if it means having to buy a ticket to the Goo Goo Dolls.


The other day I was waiting for "The Simpsons" to load on Hulu and happened upon a news story .  It seems that 1 in 5 people has fond recollections of events that never happened.  As in false memories.  Like the kind that psychiatrists put into your brain when you lie down on their couch and ask you to tell them about your mother.  Like what aliens implant into rednecks' brains after abducting them and sticking probes up their Nether Regions.

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That got me to thinking.  Could some of my fondest memories be implanted by aliens or unscrupulous therapists?  Could it really be that when I asked Becky Rhubabrb out in eighth grade that she didn't say "Yes!  Yes!  Of course!" and we dated throughout grade school and college and lived happily ever after?  Could it be that she really laughed until she wet herself and told me "Not if you were the last boy on earth and all the girls were busy that night"?

Or might it be possible that in high school I didn't come up with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning in the playoffs and hit a home run, being mobbed by my adoring fans and ecstatic teammates, who then carried me off the field and starting chanting "Fat Kid! Fat Kid!" as I took my bow?  Might it be that I really struck out chasing a ball out of the strike zone, losing the game and causing my angry teammates to chase me around the field with bats and pitchforks?

Or when I went on "American Idol" and I got a "Dawg! You da BOMB!" from Randy, an "I am quitting the music business because you are setting the standard way too high now" from Paula and a "Cancel the rest of the auditions because we have a winner" from Simon? Could that be just a false memory?

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Or when I went on "Hell's Kitchen" and convinced Chef Ramsay to  change the menu to hot dogs and Ding Dongs, and he called it "&!^#%$'ng brilliant!!!!" and I won in a landslide and he changed the name of the show to "Fat Kid's Kitchen"?  That really happened, didn't it?

I know that those things really happened, because I have vivid recall, just like I can see clearly how I won an Nobel Peace Prize for my work with my friends Shaggy and Scooby in tracking down the culprets who were dumping toxic waste into the swamp behind the school and then tricking people into thinking it was haunted so that nobody would come around and catch them in the act, but it turns out that the ghost was just a sheet on a wire accompanied by a creepy soundtrack, and we unmasked the bad guy and exposed the whole thing.

Now I know that really happened because they gave us an award and everything.

If I could just remember where I put the thing...

Some people just don't have a strong grasp on reality.  Take, for example, the band Radiohead.  While technically not serial killers, they don't quite see things the way normal people do.  They recently announced that they would never again be performing their first and biggest hit "Creep" live in concert.  Likewise, A Flock of Seagulls front man Mike Score proclaimed during a television interview that he hates that band's huge hit "I Ran" and wishes that he would never have to sing it again.  He said that too many fans only come to the shows to hear that one song and fail to appreciate the rest of the A Flock of Seagulls catalogue. And Liam Gallagher of Oasis fame has been loud and proud telling people how little he cares for "Wonderwall" - you know, Oasis's most popular song.

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When I was in college, Counting Crows was just getting popular, on the heels of the release of their first single "Mr. Jones."  When they came to Chicago to play the Horizon, guess which song didn't make the set list?  Yeah, their one and only hit.  These chuckleheads trashing the very songs that made them rich and famous (and, apparently, clueless) would be like Michael Jordan telling people to stop talking about his basketball skills and that he is sick of people only wanting to see him play.  I wonder how many tickets the Baja Men would sell to a show promoted as "The Baja Men, who will NOT be performing 'Who Let The Dogs Out'?"  Some advice for Mr. Score and the rest of the Flock: You should open up your show with "I Ran", play it a couple more times, close the show with it and then come back and do it as an encore.  And then thank your fans for loving the song so much that they would pay to see a moldy 80's band live, even though they haven't been hip since day glow, thin ties, and parachute pants were all the rage.

Speaking of music turning the brain to mush....Apparently I need to hurry up and finish putting all of my thoughts on my blog before, you know, the internet ceases to exist.  Because the artist formerly known as "The Artist Formerly Known As 'Prince'" has seen the future and can share with us that the internet is sooooooo yesterday, approaching its expiration date.  Yeah.  Just like the internal combustion engine, jet flight, and frozen foods, this whole internet thing is just a passing fad.

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But brain dead rock stars aren't the only ones a few fries short of a Happy Meal.  Some yahoo recently threw $45,000 away on a set of Marilyn Monroe's x rays.  You read that right.  X rays.  As in: black and white rendering of hard tissues taken in order to diagnose disease.  There is no distinguishing, unique, or identifying feature on the x rays that would cause one to ask "Say, isn't that a thoracic film of Marilyn Monroe?  I'd recognize that solar plexus anywhere!  And that clavicle is really one of a kind!"  Instead, one might take a passing look at it and remark "Boy does Callista Flockhart look different without makeup."  If people are willing to pay big money for some films of dead celebrities - films whose authenticity is impossible to verify and whose characteristics are indistinguishable from any other x rays - they may want to take a peek at my new E Bay listings.  I have some dental shots of Moses, a hand-wrist film of Christopher Columbus, and a lateral ceph of Alexander the Great that would be the envy of collectors anywhere.  The listings expire next week - that is, assuming the internet is still around.

Things That Make You Go..."What The Heck?!?!"

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I am back from my hiatus, just in time to read that Mel Gibson decided that he didn't alienate enough people by getting drunk and going on an anti-Semitic tirade and that he should get drunk and rail against blacks as well.  Just to make sure that everyone got the message that he is a complete tool, he decided to throw in a few death threats and sexually disgusting comments, with some misogyny to wrap things up nice and tight. 

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Seeing the story make me sit and ponder "What on earth is he thinking?"

But before he could answer, I read about John Mark Karr, the guy who claimed to have killed JonBenet Ramsey, and his fresh legal troubles.  A former fiancee' (aged nineteen) accused the teacher of pressuring her to find little girls who would become members of a Karr-centered cult.  Only, Karr is now known as Delia Alexis Reich.  Oh, and he dresses like a woman but is still really a man.

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Where oh where to begin?

First of all, what possesses a person to publicly confess to a heinous crime that he did not commit?  He had to know that all sorts of scorn would be heaped upon him for the murder, as JonBenet was all of six years old when she was sexually assaulted and strangled in her own home on Christmas Eve.  And he also had to understand that the physical evidence would not jibe with his tale and that he would be proven, eventually, to not have been involved in the crime.  A more efficient legal system might have drawn and quartered this freak before he had the chance to be proven "innocent."  But this being the civilized world and all, the Colorado legal system had to go through the motions of determining whether Karr/Reich is a cold-blooded child murderer or a self-absorbed attention whore who would exploit the grief of the Ramseys to have the whole world pay attention to him, however briefly. Sadly, Colorado does not provide the death penalty for the latter, so Karr/Reich was released.

Secondly, what kind of woman finds herself attracted to this kind of guy?  If there is one man on all the planet who should not be able to find a date, it would be John Mark Karr.  But, no.  He apparently has quite a few female fans.  So do many serial killers on death row.  Some of these men awaiting their executions actually find women on the outside to marry.  Scott Peterson, convicted of murdering his wife and unborn child, was on death row scarcely an hour when his first marriage proposal came in.  His first day at the prison, the warden received three dozen phone calls from female admirers, asking for his mailing address.  (I know a lot of you old timers are thinking to yourself "Back in my day, the serial killers and mass murderers asked the women to marry them, not the other way around!"  Yes, things change and this younger generation has no respect for the old ways.)

Let's say that you are some lonely woman and you strike up a "relationship" with a murderer on death row and eventually marry the guy.  How does that work?  When you go to Wal-Mart and do your bridal registry, what does that look like?  "Cartons of smokes (good for bartering), Dull-tipped knife sets (will pass through security check but can later be sharpened down and used as a shank), Balloons, small (useful for smuggling in drugs)"?  And after you tie the knot, do you show your friends of pictures of yourself in a lei when you honeymoon all by yourself in Hawaii?  When people ask you "What does your husband do?" do you answer "Time"?  And what if one day he gets released and he is no longer the scandalous but distant bad boy who gives you notoriety and attention, but is the ex-con sleeping under your roof?  He killed a whole bunch of people to earn that trip to death row and being confined in a ten by ten cell for the past twenty years hasn't exactly afforded him much opportunity to develop healthy interpersonal skills.  So, you do what any good wife would do and try to get him sent back to prison.  Send him to the store for a pack of cigarettes and tell him to rob the place while he's out.  If he gets away with it, you get free cigarettes and maybe some Choc-O-Diles.  If he gets killed or (better yet) sent back to prison, you are safe while still holding onto that air of notoriety.  It's a real win-win.

But what if things don't work out between you two when he gets released from jail?  If you decide to file for divorce, what sort of argument could you make to the judge?  "He's just not the man I married?  He's cold and emotionally distant?  He doesn't show me that he loves me often enough?"  Helloooooooo.  You married a serial killer!  

What are these women thinking?!

To be continued...


Becoming Lindsay Lohan

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I haven't blogged much this past month because nearly every free moment of my time has been spent in some sort of dental continuing education class, acquiring knowledge and binders (retaining more binders than knowledge).  Some of these classes captivated me and left me on the edge of my seat wondering and wanting more.  But most of them left me bored and wondering "when's lunch?"

It was during one of these latter classes that my thoughts began to wander.  The discussion was on muscle memory and the mechanisms by which neural pathways are encoded into, um...I mean how they're....that is to say...hey...I wonder when lunch is?  Anyway, a thought popped into my head: Muscles don't have brains, so how can they have memories?  Hmmmm.  I began to argue with myself:

Many things have memories but don't have brains.  

Oh, yeah?  Like what?

Like computers.  

But computers have hard drives, which are like brains as far as storage goes.

Not all computers have hard drive storage.

Really?

Workstations don't have local storage.  It's all stored on a central server.

That's when it hit me.  Muscles are like workstations while the brain is like the server.  So, I reasoned, the muscle memory must be stored in the brain.  Or something like that.  This led me to the next logical thought: My server hard drive is almost full and I will need to upgrade to a bigger one soon.  Will my brain/server ever get full?

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Here are the facts: 1) the human brain is a finite thing, 2) finite things have capacity limits, 3) we cannot add another brain to provide storage.  We are stuck with what we have.  So, returning to my computer server analogy, what do I do when my server is getting full and I am unable to add secondary storage?  Obviously I start deleting things.  Unnecessary things.  Things I haven't used in awhile.

Then,a terrifying thought popped into my head: Is this how my own brain works?  As I learn more and more things and acquire more and more knowledge, will my brain fill up to the point that I need to start deleting other knowledge and memories to make room for the new ones?  When I start purging stuff from my hard drive, I look at each folder and see if it's important now, if I expect it to be important in the future, or if it's disposable.

I don't think that my brain works like that because if it did, I would be reminded of all sorts of old things every time I learned something new.  I would, say, find out that the capital of Crapistan is called Trenton, and my brain would shuffle through all sorts of old memories to see which ones should be discarded to make room for this new tidbit.  You'd think I would be reminded of all these old things as my psyche looked for room on the cranial drive.  All sorts of useless things should pop into my head as they are evaluated and sorted before being discarded.  My second grade teacher looked like Mary Tyler Moore but with really bad hair.  I once ate a blue hot dog.  Papa Smurf creeps me out.  Shredded Wheat cereal reminds me of Wilford Brimley's mustache.

But, no, nothing like that ever happens.  Which leads me to believe that the brain is not like a network administrator, carefully evaluating space needs and judiciously deciding what can be deleted.  It's probably more like a lazy teenager who, when asked to put his clothes away, throws open his bedroom door and flings the clothes where ever he can, paying no heed to where they land or to what they cover up.

That notion terrifies me.  If I am correct, it means that it is possible to learn so much that your brain runs out of space and you start to lose vital knowledge and actually become more stupid as you learn new things.  Could that possibly mean  that Miss South Carolina is really super smart, but that she learned so much that her brain filled up?  I am not taking any chances.  No more new knowledge for me.

Happy Birthday To Me

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It has been one whole year since The Fat Kid Diary's inception.  It all started when the lovely Mrs. Fat Kid and I were at breakfast and I was pontificating on wall sorts of things (why GM should be allowed to fail, why dogs are better than cats, and why I hate the LA Lakers so much).  Rather than engage me in debate or challenge any of my points, she simply said "You should start a blog about all your thoughts."  Looking back now, it was a very elaborate and polite way of saying "Shut up already!  Write all your crap down and let me finish my coffee!"

I know I have very few regular followers of my blog, but I want to thank everyone who has ever read my thoughts, even if you haven't commented.  Now, I am going to go have me some cake!

Boycott Arizona!!!

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The Fat Kid is all in a lather today.  Apparently his home state of Arizona has passed a radical anti-immigrant bill, which has led many enlightened and proper-thinking people to compare the Canyon State to Nazi Germany, Apartheid, and Jim Crow.  When I found out that my beloved home is rolling out the fascism and looking to turn into a modern era Third Reich, well my reaction was the same as yours: This simply cannot be allowed to stand.  As a lover of knowledge, I thought I'd research this new law and share its highlights and bring to light all the odious features so that you can arm yourself against all the misinformation that will be thrown your way.

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My crack research team here at the Fat Kid Diaries (me, Google, and Wikipedia) got right to work summarizing the law, which provides for the following:

- Makes it a felony to be in the country illegally

- Directs the state to track the nationalities of legal immigrants and mandates that entry be barred to certain people if their presence would upset the demographic balance of the state

- Forbids immigrants from political activities, including public protests

- Makes it a crime punishable by 10 years in prison to re-enter the state illegally once a person has been caught and deported

- Makes it a felony to assist someone in entering the country illegally

- Mandates that immigrants be able to be productive and able to support themselves and their dependents without aid from the state

- Requires that police and other public officials definitively establish that an immigrant is in the country legally before they can offer any assistance, even if the immigrant is the victim of a crime

As you can see, these are draconian to say the least.  If I didn't already live here, I would never set foot in this state.  Just because someone sneaks over the border doesn't mean they should be imprisoned.  What kind of cruel and heartless people enact such laws?

Wait....Hold on a sec....My producers are telling me something....

Wow, am I embarrassed!  It turns out that those aren't in the Arizona law at all, but rather are contained within Mexico's current immigration laws.  That last provision is called "Article 67" and is deemed by Amnesty International to be a large factor in the widespread human rights abuses suffered by Central American illegals at the hands of gangs and complicit police officers.

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OK, so I was wrong about what the Arizona law says.  Let me dig a little deeper and see what it is about the law that prompted Colorado Democrat Congressman Jared Polis to declare that Arizona was turning into a "police state" reminiscent of Nazi Germany.  It turns out that he objects to the stipulation that legal immigrants have their immigration papers on them at all times and be required to produce them for authorities on demand.  That really is a Gestapo-like requirement, isn't it?  Visions of jackbooted brownshirts demanding "Papers, please" to legal resident aliens should send chills down everyone's spines, shouldn't it?

Wait...Hold on another second....Getting new information....

Well, color me doubly humiliated for bad reporting.  I have just learned that the requirement that legal aliens have their immigration papers on them at all times and be able to produce them when asked is a federal law that has been in place for quite some time.

Well, then what exactly does the Arizona law require?  It is called Senate Bill 1070, and it does the following:

- It forbids communities from declaring themselves to be "sanctuary cities" and from refusing to cooperate with existing federal immigration law.

- It directs police officers who have already made legal contact with a person (domestic violence complaint, speeding, public drunkenness, tail light out, loitering, etc) to make a "reasonable attempt" to ascertain resident status if there is reasonable suspicion that the person is an illegal alien

- Makes it a misdemeanor (trespassing) to be in the country illegally.

- Specifically prohibits racial profiling and requires that police may only stop and question people about their immigration status if there is a reasonable cause to do so

- Makes it a felony to smuggle across the border a minor if there is no other adult family member also being smuggled

That last provision is an important one and is largely ignored by race baiting activists who want to make political hay out of this issue. Young women and girls are taken from their homes in Mexico and brought to the United States to work as prostitutes. Separated from their families and speaking no English, they are completely at the mercy of their kidnappers.  Phoenix is the kidnapping capital of the United States, and it is almost entirely directly tied to illegal immigration.  Gang violence is increasing in this state, fueled by border crossers looking to expand their share of the drug and prostitution trade.  In the past few weeks, a southern Arizona rancher was shot to death on his own land by illegals, and a sheriff's deputy was seriously wounded in a shootout with drug smugglers.

When humans first started to band together and form communities, it wasn't to make sure that they all had universal health care or free education.  It was to protect themselves.  The first function of government - if it does nothing else - is to protect its citizens from invaders and from criminals.  The federal government for many years under both political parties has willingly shirked its duty in making sure that only law abiding immigrants are allowed into this country.  Cajoled by Republican business interests who care more about cheap labor than they do sound immigration policy and by Democratic political interests who see the millions of undocumented and uninvited visitors from Latin America as a political constituency, the federal government has decided to simply ignore the problem.  Now that it has fallen on the states to deal with the multitude of social ills associated with criminals operating across an open border, Arizona has taken the lead in stemming the flow and it is getting a lot of heat (pardon the pun) for it.

What is ironic in the whole 1070 kerfuffle is that Prop 100 is on the ballot for consideration.  It would implement a "temporary" one cent sales tax increase to fund education.  There is a strong push on television and radio to pass this tax, with politicians and teachers telling us that it's the "right thing to do."  Ignored in the debate is the financial burden that undocumented aliens have on our social services systems.  A large portion of these workers are employed on a cash basis, meaning they pay no state or federal income taxes, while at the same time they send their kids to school and avail themselves of services and infrastructure provided by the state.  It would make sense for the people agitating for higher taxes to hold those illegals who dodge their own tax responsibilities to demand they they pay their fair share.  Sadly but predictably, they are silent on this point.

If you poll Americans, including Arizonans, you would find that a sizable majority is in favor of robust and plentiful legal immigration.  This country was founded by immigrants and has flourished because of them.  But we as a nation have a right to decide which immigrants should be allowed entry and which ones we'd be better off without.

The pro-open borders loudmouths who compare Arizona's decision to address the very real problem of illegal immigration to an establishment of a Nazi state act like petulant, spoiled children.  They slander the people who support secure national borders while at the same time trivializing the horrors suffered by the victims of the Holocaust.  If people like Al Sharpton were capable of feeling an ounce of shame, they would blush.  Unfortunately, they are not, so the misinformation and distortion of the facts will go on.

We Need To Talk....

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It's hard for me to believe, but two of my precious babies have morphed into teenagers.  Now that they are old enough to date, I felt it was my duty as their father to help them vis-a-vis trying to figure out members of the opposite sex.  Specifically, I thought they would need help interpreting what the other sex is telling them.  Having been the object of much scorn from many girls/women in years past, I have heard it all, even though it took me years to decode it all.  So, rather than allowing my offspring to experience all this for themselves, I have compiled a glossary of common phrases that they might hear and what their true meanings are.

We need to talk means:  I am dumping you

It's not you, it's me: It's you

I am soooooo over my ex: I am soooooo still in love with my ex

I don't know where to begin: I have been cheating on you

We should start seeing other people: I have already started seeing other people

I am not quite sure what my feelings are right now : I have been cheating on you with this really hot guy/girl

I think I just need my space for awhile: I mean, really, really hot

Thank you for being so patient with me while I sort my feelings out: Thanks for buying me dinners and keeping me company while I wait for this guy/girl I am crushing on to become available

I love you, but I'm just not in love with you: I am too lazy to even try to make up something original

I just want to be friends: I want to be the kind of friends who never see each other, call each other, send each other birthday presents, or even acknowledge each other is alive.  I want to be that kind of friend

You will always be dear to me: Are you still here? Why? Take off already!

You are too good for me and I am just standing in your way: I think you are so stupid that you will believe anything I say, no matter how idiotic

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