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I really think we need to come up with a different classification for people that would do something like this in the name of the same Christ I also serve. I mean, how is this at all Christian?

After a Lutheran school expelled two 16-year-old girls for having "a bond of intimacy" that was "characteristic of a lesbian relationship," the girls sued, contending the school had violated a state anti-discrimination law.

The girls were expelled in their junior year for "conducting themselves in a manner consistent with being lesbians," said McKay, who added that the girls never disclosed their sexual orientation during the litigation. Hanson said the girls had been "best friends" and, citing their privacy, declined to discuss their sexual orientation. They are now in college, he said.

The dispute started when a student at the school told a teacher in 2005 that one of the girls had said she loved the other. The student advised the teacher to look at the girls' MySpace pages. One of the girls was identified as bisexual on her MySpace page, the other's page said she was "not sure" of her sexual orientation.

McKay said the website also contained a photograph of the girls hugging.

According to the principal, who called each girl out of class separately, both admitted they had hugged and kissed each other and told other students they were lesbians. The girls said they admitted only that they loved each other as friends.

One of the attorneys arguing for the girls said that the court has essentially given these schools license to discriminate, and I have to agree. But that's only the superficial part of this, to me. This school did this because not because these girls vandalized the property, got into a fight or cut a class. They did it because they felt these girls were sinners and they wanted them cast from their midst. (Sorry for the biblical language, but apparently these people think that God loves all of His children - except the gay ones.)

Sarah Hepola from Broadsheet (look out for the pun in that title) expounds:

So, OK: It's a private school that wants to uphold a certain religious ethos. (The school is associated with the same religious denomination as Republican Rep. Michele Bachmann.) Should they be allowed to discriminate based on their shame-based ethos? I'll leave that for the courts to decide. (A lawyer for the girls hopes to take the case to the California Supreme Court.) But at a time when our school system is so embattled -- fingers crossed, economic stimulus plan -- and at an age when kids are discovering themselves and in the very place you might hope adults would be trying to sheperd them into an adult world, it's just a damn shame that a school would spend its valuable resources on this kind of witch hunt.

Many often cite Matthew 7:1, often paraphrased as "Judge not, lest ye be judged". But you have to look deeper. Read on:

1 "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

3 "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.

Considering that the church has had so many specks in its eyes, nose and mouth with regard to repressed homosexuality over the years, I have always found it sickly ironic how fervently they seek to judge those courageous enough to be whom...

...well, whom God made them to be.

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I recall her class, and the conversation, but not her name. Whatever my seventh-grade English teacher's name was, she taught me one hell of a lesson.

Shortly after class, she and I were talking. Thinking back, I'm surprised that I had time to chat. I remember that the walls were blue, and that I was holding my copy of Cry, the Beloved Country - but the particulars of how we got on the topic of our fathers and war remains fuzzy, as this occurred over twenty years ago. How the chat ended stands out like it happened yesterday.

When I remarked that my Dad and I could talk about anything, she sounded a note of caution. "Don't ask him too much about war", she said. Why not, I asked. I then wondered aloud if my father had killed anyone in 'Nam. "I asked my father that question," she said. She told me that she'd done so when she was a pre-teen, like me, wide-eyed and curious. Her father sighed, and replied solemnly,

"Yes."

"And then he said not another word", she recalled. Neither did I, for that matter.

Largely because of that conversation, my father and I haven't talked much about his "time in the service", as he terms it. He was an Air Force radar operator in Vietnam, but I never found out really what that meant. He would talk about his time stationed in places ranging from New Orleans to Laos, but I never asked for dates or details. He'd let me walk around the house in his old fatigues, but never talk about the sweat he surely put into them. He'd show me the faded burn scars on his right forearm, caused by fresh M-16 shells - but I never dared asked him the when and where.

In fact, the only detail I ever really learned was that his rank and classification, when I applied for a Child of a Vietnam Veteran scholarship to a summer college program at Oxford University. I would go to Oxford at 16, while around my age, my dad would be preparing himself for war.

My father graduated from high school in 1964, so he knew damn well what was awaiting him if he enlisted. His older brother was already there, and eventually became a paratrooper. I knew them as completely different people, and still am left longing to know the men they were. But even if I only know what my father did in an abstract sense, I know that his service opened the door to his becoming the great, imperfect man he is today. I really wouldn't have it any other way, and I guess that today, that is what I'm most thankful for.

The man pictured above is not my father, but it might as well have been. He has the same clean-shaven face filled with possibility, a face that I'd never seen before. (My father has had virtually the same beard all my life.) That's a young man I'd like to know. But I'm thrilled to know the old man I know today.

Yes, part of me would like to ask my father about his service, get to know the details. But I'd much rather talk to him about the election, the newest Bond flick and LeBron James. Surely, you'd be correct to assume that I've made assumptions about what my father had to do, and what now has to live with. However, if I can spare my father the pain of remembrance, I have done him a service.

There's no need to ask our veterans about every detail. If you're in doubt, and as conflicted as I was twenty years ago...just do as I did today, in a phone call to my father. Just say thanks, and leave the rest alone.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs, yesterday.)

Do yourself a favor and read about Eugene Allen.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs,)

Now, I just said that I like to run up the score. I wanted the Dems to get the 60 Senate seats, the filibuster-proof majority. What I didn't want was for them to get to a point where they hung by the thread of 60 votes, with Traitor Joe's finger at the kill-switch.

Lieberman's status in the Democratic caucus hangs by a thread - a thread attached to Harry Reid's finger. Yesterday, the two met, and it seemed Reid would put Lieberman over his knee at that point. It's known that Reid holds Lieberman in high personal regard, despite the shiv he put into Barack Obama's side in the form of a disgusting speech at the Republican National Convention. Lieberman also went well beyond the personal conviction of supporting his friend John McCain: he campaigned for Republicans in other races. His behavior demanded more than Reid's milquetoast statement today:

"Joe Lieberman has done something that I think was improper, wrong, and I'd like if we weren't on television, I'd use a stronger word of describing what he did," Reid told CNN's John King. "But Joe Lieberman votes with me a lot more than a lot of my senators. He didn't support us on military stuff and he didn't support us on Iraq stuff. You look at his record, it's pretty good."

Greg Sargent may consider that "ratcheting up the rhetoric", but I only see it as another shadow punch by one of the sorriest leaders the Democrats have ever had.

That said, Lieberman has outdone him. The Connecticut "independent" actually threw down an ultimatum:

"Senator Lieberman's preference is to stay in the caucus, but he's going to keep all his options open," a Lieberman aide said. "McConnell has reached out to him and at this stage his position is he wants to remain in the caucus but losing the chairmanship is unacceptable."

"Unacceptable"? Let him keep his chairmanship of his committee, or else?

Need I remind this dude that he has no leverage? His guy lost! He turned his back on Obama, who'd campaigned for him against Ned Lamont in 2006, when Lieberman was fighting for his political life. What possible motivation should the Democrats have for not only keeping this guy in the fold, but caving to his demands in order to do so?

I never thought I'd say this, but the Democrats need to get in Joe Lieberman's face, if they can stoop that low, and...quote Dick Cheney. By this, I don't mean take away his chairmanship and let him take his ball and go home. Kick his ass right out of the caucus.

Josh Marshall spells it out:

...the simple fact is the Democrats don't need Joe Lieberman. He's not in a position to call anything 'unacceptable'. The Democrats didn't get to 60 votes or at least it now seems highly unlikely -- which was his only hope to have any continued relevance or position to bargain from. And the truth is that filibuster-busting votes are often made on an ad-hoc basis rather than on a party line. In any case, there'd be no more reason to trust he'd be there as a 60th vote as a Democrat than as a Republican.

If he pulls a Zell Miller, fine. His credibility is shot, and he cannot be trusted. Why would you want to depend upon someone like that? Let him accept the Republican invitation, sit on the other side of the aisle (with no chairmanship, by the way) and defeat him along with the rest of them. And there's no way Connecticut re-elects this cat. Why play yourself in the meantime?

As Marshall says, Reid and the Dems need to make it absolutely clear to Lieberman that this is not a negotiation. They should go Michael Corleone on him:

[Geary is demanding a large bribe for a gaming license] Senator Pat Geary: I want your answer and the money by noon tomorrow. And one more thing. Don't you contact me again, ever. From now on, you deal with Turnbull. Michael Corleone: Senator? You can have my answer now, if you like. My final offer is this: nothing.

I thought I'd lost every ounce of respect for Ralph Nader. The 2000 nonsense cost him most of his capital with me, and in 2004, he lost even more for running so plainly not for the people he claims to represent, but for his own glorification.

But now, it's all gone.


Jimi Izrael:

Holy Jesus on The John. There's context, yes, but that was the best literary allusion he cold muster?

Already, it starts.

I understand that Nader has an almost pathological need to discuss issues related to poverty. However, that would require us to somehow ignore the fact that this has really, now, become all about him. For all of Nader's self-aggrandizing runs of the presidency haven't made one fucking dent in the causes he supposedly believes in. The undeniable proof of his lack of effectiveness lies in this interview. If you're reduced to pulling stunts to garner attention from a media that learned long ago to ignore you, racist stunts that shock even Fox News, what is left for you?

And keep in mind that this isn't even the first time he's pulled this shit. Perhaps the saddest part of all this is that Nader himself is an assimilated minority - son of Lebanese immigrants - that has more or less "passed" as White for years. He has some nerve accusing others of "talking White" and being an Uncle Tom. Some real damned nerve.

Ralph Nader can go to hell, as far as I'm concerned. But perhaps I'm just taking his bait. The better place for us to send him might very well be off of our news pages, and out of our national consciousness. That would really piss him off.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)

I remember the first time I ever saw Barack Obama's name. I remember laughing.

I was riding in a friend's car in Chicago five years ago when I spotted a navy billboard alongside the freeway, well-lit and well-juxtaposed in front of the Second City skyline, topped with small white type over huge block letters spelling out a name I'd never seen before.

O-B-A-M-A
I'm no etymologist or anthropologist, so I didn't know what the origin of the name was. Truth be told, I thought it was Japanese (and I guess I had good reason). I asked my friend, with an immature scoff in my voice, "Who's that?" I was told that Barack Obama was an exciting local politician who was "someone to watch".

I learned more about him, and began to follow his race for the U.S. Senate from afar. It was a contest missing any sense of drama (as long as you don't count Alan Keyes). I recall a growing admiration for him, rooted in a perceived commonality with his life experience. But while every home I grew up in was within a five-mile radius of the other, this Obama was a citizen of the world.

Still, as he marched to victory in that 2004 Senate race, I had the feeling I was witnessing a preview of a bright future. Best way to sum it up? Without waxing too poetic, I can best compare it to this: a sailor lost at sea suddenly spots a lighthouse, a safe haven that though far away, offers promise of salvation to come.

Even in 2004, we were a country that needed saving.

At the Democratic National Convention, we saw the future for the first time:


As a Christian with an Arabic name, my ears perked up when Barack Hussein Obama spoke of his name, and how his parents believed that in America, one's name would not be a barrier to success. I shot out of my seat when he spoke of the United States of America, and the prayer that we all had a place in that America. And after he was done, I sent up thanks, sharing a thought and dream with so many: that this 43-year-old Illinois state senator would someday be the first African-American President.

Even as we wallowed in silent disbelief after John Kerry's loss, there was the promise of salvation to come. Barack Obama's victory in his Senate race served notice that a day like November 4, 2008 could come. Only I thought that it would come in 2016, at the earliest. No way could we elect a Black president. Not this soon, at least. Not when this "skinny kid with a funny name" still looked, well, like a kid. If Barack Obama was to move into the White House, he'd have to wait.

Besides, Hillary Clinton was next in line. John Edwards was still out there, and not found out. There were other contenders for barrier-breaking: Clinton, Bill Richardson. (The latter was actually my bet; if there was any chance for a person of color, it was a Hispanic guy with an Anglo-Saxon last name that didn't look particularly "ethnic".) No way could we elect a Black president. Not this soon, at least.

Fast-forward to February, 2007. Despite the catcalls he knew he'd hear - "he's too young!"; "he's too inexperienced!"; "he's too...uh, presumptuous!" - the junior senator for Illinois had announced his candidacy boldly and without any hint of wavering. Obama wasn't in this to be a symbol, or to make a stand on a particular issue of interest. He was in to win.

But he knew that his oratory would not carry the day. If so, 2004 would have been more than his moment of anointing. Kerry likely would have won. His loss proved to the Democratic Party and to Obama that there'd better be more meat on them bones. He couldn't just be the beacon off in the distance.

And then, last night arrived. I could wax on about how I wished my great-grandfather, who fled Mississippi lynch mobs at 15 and came north, were here to not only to see this day, but have had the chance to press one of the fingers on his leathered, massive hand to a button inside a voting booth. But to me, after writing incessantly about this man and his message, I finally got it. As the announcement came through my series of tubes at 11:00pm Eastern, my girlfriend leaped up and started shouting.

"OH MY GOD!"

Over and over, the lady I pray one day will be my wife was screaming and crying with happiness, and I held her tightly as I heard the Grant Park crowd matching her pitch. This was happening. Now. Past was suddenly prologue to a future that I looked forward to with a new fervor, a future with a wife and kids who, from the day they enter this world, officially have no restrictions on their dreams.

I have Obama to thank for that. While America's obsession with Obama's racial first further proves that there's nothing "post-racial" about his victory, the greatness of the moment was encapsulated in the man's face as he emerged to speak.

Obama approached the microphone with a sobriety and focus that proved once and for all the source of his victory - his temperament and wisdom. Surely the lessons of our horrible American record on race informed that countenance, perhaps even weighing his smile down. He knew that his speeches were the beacon, the light that shined so brightly in our eyes that we had no idea how close salvation could be.

His election does not guarantee that we will be saved from the maladies of the Bush years, and I will take a cue from Obama's own measured nature and others that warn against the romance of politics, criticizing him when deserved. But as I finally collect myself and wipe away the last tear, I find myself finally grasping what Obama's been trying to say all along.

Past is prologue. This is about the future. And the only hope I have for Barack Obama is that he seizes the moment, and helps guide our lost America back to shore.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)

I know this is long, but I wanted this documented.

I live in Germantown, a Philadelphia neighborhood northwest of the city, about 15 minutes from the Art Museum and its famous steps. It's a neighborhood that's largely working-class African Americans. Lucky for me, I was a mere 500 feet from my polling place, the church on the corner.

The first thing I noticed was the box of magazines. I've never seen things like that at a polling location before - only at places where you expect the wait to be interminable (dentist's offices, etc.) But the location was even more telling - it was outside, about 50 feet from the entrance. The line at 8:10am was coming out of the doors and just about reached the box.

I prepped myself for a long wait and was about to reach for a magazine when I was approached by one of two polling supervisors (not sure if that's the proper term, I can't recall). Wearing a tag indicating that she was associated with the Obama campaign, she asked me which precinct I was in, then directed me inside to where there was a completely separate area for my line (I was in the 22nd, the line outside was for the 21st.) Saved me a bunch of time.

Getting inside, I got into a line that was about 50 folks long. There was a TV there with fuzzy reception, broadcasting CBS. (During my time in the line, I noticed the recent 527 ad about Obama and Wright - "Too Radical...Too Risky" - and wondered how people could be harassed for wearing an Obama t-shirt or button while that kind of filth could very easily have influenced a vote in a less reliably liberal area. Careless on the election workers' part.)

That aside, the place was running like clockwork. All of the election workers were very good at expediting folks into their proper lines (A-L, M-Z) and getting them into one of the two booths allotted for each of the two precincts voting in the church. I felt there was something somehow poetic that I'd be casting a vote for an African American for president in a church, thereby answering so many prayers of those on whose shoulders I've stood.

Slightly behind me in line was an elderly African American woman who'd anticipated a longer wait: she had a Philadelphia Tribune and a walking stick that could collapse into a chair. I first struck up conversation with her after I heard her discussing dirty campaign tactics with a young brother in line and referring to a "her" all the while - I wasn't sure if they were referring to Hillary or Palin. They did get on to the Palin-Sarkozy prank call, and to say that she was horrified would be an understatement. It wasn't going to sway her vote, which was already Obama's. But it did give me a strange sense of relief that after today, all the bollocks would come to a close.

I'm a devout Christian, but for whatever reason, prayer has never come naturally to me. But before my finger pressed the button next to Obama's name, my hands came together firmly. I imagined later that the ghosts of the trailblazers held them together, knowing that my heart would know what to do next. I sent thanks up to my forebears, the Black (and White) freedom fighters without whom there would have been no opportunity for me to vote at all, let alone for a man that looks like me. Then I pressed the button.

After finishing the ballot, I said "thank you!" so loudly that I'm sure everyone in line heard me. Never has the phrase in Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise" been more salient:

"I am the hope and dream of the slave."

I was done at 8:42am.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)

In a presidential campaign, we the voters can have a false sense of intimacy with people that we don't know. We fight for them, we volunteer for them, we advocate their causes. But we don't know them. That said, many of us, myself included, know the pain of losing a grandparent. I know the sadness of knowing a grandmother did not live to see your life unfold. At the precipice of the moment which could change Barack Obama's life forever, at which he can attain heights that you and I could only dream about, we have never had more in common with him than today.

I send my prayers to Mrs. Dunham on her ascent, and my sincere condolences to her family left behind.

Apparently, some unquantifiable quality (well, I guess you can count melanin cells) has Joe "the Plumber" thinking Obama is "anti-American".

Good to know who the modern-day arbiters of American identity are:
 


No, it's not exclusively racial in origin, nor am I calling Joe a racist.  But where else but this concept of "the Other" that McCain's folks love to push would Joe get this idea?  Keep in mind this dude compared Obama...to Sammy Davis, Jr. If the first person he can think to compare Obama to is a skinny Black entertainer, methinks not many Black folks does Joe "the Plumber" know.

In this clip, he confuses even Neil Cavuto:

JOE: McCain has fought and bled for our country, and loves our country. There's too many questions with Barack Obama and his loyalty to our country. And I question that greatly. CAVUTO: Well, you're not doubting that he's a good American. Or you are? JOE: Oh you know, his ideology is something that is completely different than what democracy stands for, so I had some question there. In my opinion.

Shit. I'm glad he endorsed McCain.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)

Something that I have not given any space in this blog to this date - regrettably - happens to be one of the most important issues of this election season: Proposition 8, on the ballot in California, and the effort to defeat it. To catch up, I'll be reading Andrew Sullivan's massive archive of posts, reading Towleroad's one-stop shop, and watching ads like this one voiced by Samuel L. Jackson, which relates this episode to other discrimination:


Two of my favorites, Apple and Google, have donated to the No on Prop 8 effort. Bill Clinton just recorded a call to urge people to vote NO on November 4. Please, if you're a California voter, vote against bigotry. If you're not, like me, urge every Californian you know to not just assume that because Obama has it in the bag out there that they don't need to show up at the polls. There's something else important at stake. Ask Margaret and Helen (quickly becoming my favorite bloggers), who have a keep it real (H/T: Dan Savage via Sullivan):

So several of you have emailed me about something happening in California. Now, a lot of crazy stuff goes on in that state and so I may be getting this a little mixed up. Evidently they are wanting to pass a constitutional amendment to make only marriages between a man and a woman valid in California. Talk about an ignorant pot calling a gay kettle black. Somebody really should check the latest divorce rates because clearly many marriages everywhere are not valid.

Now I am an old broad. We didn't talk about this stuff. I really don't know why gay people want to get married. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Just ask Harold. But I guess if one consenting adult wants to declare their love for another, why would anyone have an issue? I do know one gay couple. Margaret's nephew and his friend have been together for several years. They are a lovely couple and make me laugh and feel special every time I see them. A couple of years ago Texas passed one of these constitutional amendments. The place where Harold and I go to vote is actually an elementary school in the neighborhood. On that particular election day I was appalled to see all the signs that said "Marriage Should Be Between a Man and Woman Only". As Harold drove us into the parking lot to vote, I looked out the window at those signs and realized that many parents had driven their kids to school that morning driving past those very signs. I wonder if any of them had the same reaction I did--those signs reminded me of the little signs we used to have back in the day that said "Whites Only". Think about it.

I donated to No on Prop 8 for the first time tonight. Even if it's as little as, say, $8, I hope you do the same.

(Cross-posted on 1,369 lightbulbs.)

Tonight's infomercial, in its entirety:



As of this posting, I haven't seen it.  But I'd love to hear your reactions.  Thoughts?

Obama was hanged in effigy on the University of Kentucky campus today:

UK President Lee Todd said he was alerted about the incident by a professor who was riding his bicycle to campus around 7:30 a.m. The effigy was found on Rose Street, near the university's Mining and Minerals building. Todd said it is not known whether a student or someone else was responsible. "It's a very embarrassing situation that has happened on our campus, regardless of who did it," he said.

Embarrassing?

(H/T: Sullivan.)

P.S.: NUTS TO THE RIGHT, NUTS TO THE LEFT.
Sarah Palin was hung in effigy at the West Hollywood home of a gay couple last week. There are extremists on both sides of the aisle, but let's be real. That's a lot different, as Sullivan notes, than an effigy of a Black man hanging in Kentucky. A lot different. And Black Republicans...remember that these are the people you're lining up with. Unless the GOP can separate itself wholly and cleanly from its race-baiting past and instead of exploiting racial tension, excise it wholly from its person, they'll never have my understanding, let along my vote. But here's the thing - they clearly don't want it.

Obama has to explain himself on everything from the Second Amendment to abortion rights, clearing his path to independents through concessions to the Right. But when has McCain, other than his half-ass and late apology at that Memphis motel, felt a duty to address the needs of African Americans? Shit - at least the Constitution stated that we were 3/5ths of a human being. The GOP treats us as less, and it's reflected in incidents like this.

(Cross-posted at 1,369 lightbulbs.)