So, tonight marks the first evening game of the WFC Dominion soccer team. I can't say that it was a shining moment, however it was a beginning. Eight intrepid souls turned out on Halloween, despite many child-related previous engagements. We played Town and Country's team, a team that has obviously been playing together for quite some time, which, in the end, made the loss a little easier to bear. After all, we have not played together as a team before tonight and some of us, most notably myself, have not played in years (I think the last organized game of soccer I participated in was sometime prior to fourth grade).
With eight turnouts, we had enough to field one line, a goalkeep and still had one sub. An unfortunate minor injury in the second half kept everyone on the pitch for the remainder of the match, however the second half was, by all accounts, our best.
To keep things on the positive tip, every player that took the field performed admirably, some excellent plays were made, our goal tender, Nathan, was nothing short of spectacular and we were not skunked. Late in the second half, we managed to score through sheer grit and determination. Nathan, our keep extraordinaire made some incredible blocks and kept things respectable despite little help from the defense.
The good news is that we got the toughest team in the league out of the way early and from what this reporter understands, they are far and away the best. Spirits remained high and optimism and humor governed the outlook for next week's game and I think it's safe to say that everyone is looking forward to the rest of the season.
Final score this evening was 6 - 1, but again, at least we made it onto the scoreboard. An excellent beginning for what one bold speaker called the Bad News Bears. I think we all are looking forward to meeting Town and Country in the finals for a rematch!
01 November 2006
16 October 2006
The Sitcom as Domestic Survival Tool
I have never been one to spend much time on television; I'm more of a movie man. In fact, I spent a number of years with no television whatsoever. I know, I know. Many of you may be thinking "what kind of wing nut are you?" However, if you've never lived without TV, I highly recommend it. There is a certain change that comes over your view of life, time and the destructive power of commercial television as you begin to find new, more productive uses for the endless amounts of time that you didn't previously realize you had. It's really quite liberating.
This is not, however meant to be a dissertation on the evils of the boob-tube (though I promise, I will get to that at some point in the future). Needless to say, I do, in fact own a television and, much to my own dismay, find myself zoning out in front of it quite a bit. My normal fare consists of movies, cartoons (Avatar: the Last Airbender is my current favorite and I must admit a bit of an addiction. I guess I can thank my brother Nick for turning me on to that one), Survivorman and CSI. The original. Only the original. And commercials. I think commercials are one of the most important things to watch on television (Really. And I promise that I'll go into this more at a later date as well).
My wife on the other hand likes true crime, hauntings, anything on Discovery that has anything to do with Egypt or Egyptology, the BBC comedies on New Hampshire PBS on Tuesdays and **gasp** sitcoms. I used to be of the opinion that sitcoms were tripe. They are contrived, cliched, boxed up versions of everyday events that either need more serious attention or no attention at all. Seinfeld comes to mind as an example of the latter. I save a special, accute hatred for that particular program, made even more vile by the fact that it makes me laugh from time to time. But make no mistake about it, Seinfeld is evil. But as I've watched some of the sitcoms my wife likes (most notably Everybody Loves Raymond, My Family on BBC America, King of Queens, Mad About You, and the BBC comedies on NH PBS almost religiously), I've come to see these shows a little differently. As I'm sure you guessed from the title, I've begun to think of these shows as a resource for domestic bliss. It came about when my wife and I were arguing about some stupid thing or another; I really don't remember what it was, but it was probably something small. But the TV was on and when we both just shut up, the couple on the set was having the exact same argument, but scripted better.
Since then, I've watched with much less grumbling and started to actually pay attention. These shows, the better ones anyhow, are written by people that live this every day and address real issues in the home. I've seen everything from quibbles about household responsibility to financial problems, difficulties with teenage children to difficulties with the in-laws and aging to potentially marriage-ending goofs. These are real problems that real couples, both married and not face on a day to day basis. Granted, on TV they're scipted by a team of writers and generally happen in dream houses between stylish, attractive actors playing stylish, attractive people with jobs far more interesting than yours and come to a happy feel-good resolution in half an hour or less, but if you think about it, why do these shows draw such large audiences? It's not the attractive actors or the fantasy of having their house, or children that adore you all the time or the vicarious thrill of doing the fascinating job they have or hobbies they have or go to the restaurants they eat at. Sure, the voyeur element comes in, but these shows would do half as well if they didn't resonate with some element of truth.
I have a theory and if you don't want to read it, you should have gone to another page by now. On the surface, I think that this breed of sitcom serves as a reminder that you, the audience, are not the only couple that has faced this particular problem (pick one and insert here). Obviously, this is not uncommon if there were enough people on the writing team to think this episode up and put it on the air. On a deeper note, I think it serves a carthartic purpose to be able to laugh at the arguments you have and the issues you deal with. As cliche as it is, they say laughter is the best medicine, and though it might not cure cancer, I tend to agree that keeping things in perspective and maintaining the ability to laugh at ones self, surroundings or situation goes a long way in being able to ford the turbulent waters. In being able to laugh at a situation on TV that has resonance in your own lives, you can maybe take a step back, diffuse some of the tension and maybe be able to see things from your partner's perspective a little better.
Taking the issue a little further, I think that, especially for men, sitcoms provide an invaluable tool. We all do dumb things. Why? Because as a species, men are dumb. Period. We know it, they know it, I think Whatsamatta U proved it last year in a study spanning the past five generations so let's move on. I forget what comic said it, but it still as close to universal truth as the people of this planet are likely to get: Women are crazy and men are stupid. How does this apply? Men, pay attention. Sit down, watch TV with your partner (this applies to gay and lesbian couples, too. Believe me, I've know a few and the dynamic is no different, just that each partner plays both roles dependant on the moon or whatever) and pay attention. First pay attention to the show and remember: you are not smarter than the guy on TV. Trust me on this. Oh, you might not be as flagrant, blatant and obvious in the way you screw up, but you will. You'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time or in the wrong way or you'll forget an important date or fall asleep too soon after sex etcetera, etcetera. Accept this, learn from it, remember the lesson for the future (this is the important part) and move on. Second, pay attention to your partner and their reaction. If the show gets a "tsk tsk" or a "ooohhh" out of the answer to "does this dress make me look fat"on TV, gues what? That same answer is going to get you nothing but a night in the garage with the dogs if you pull it out the next time you're at the mall. If the guy on the show gets caught looking down the waitresses shirt or looking at internet porn and it earns you a punch in the shoulder or a "I'd divorce your ass", know what? Yup, chances are your partner's not kidding. If the dishes not getting done on TV gets you a glare, guess what I'd recommend as the best course of action. Just do the damn dishes and save yourself a fight.But realistically, it's not just about avoiding a fight, is it? Cause we all know what comes after a fight right? **wink, wink, nudge, nudge** What it is about is about is having respect for the other person and gaining some insight into what about you drives her (or him) up the wall.
And finally, I think these shows serve one more purpose: they serve as reminder that the fight isn't forever and you can work through it, if you want to. No, it won't be in half an hour. Hell, it might not even be in a day. But when you're in the middle of a crisis, such as it is, it's easy to lose sight of the reality that no problem is insurmountable and given the time, effort, and most importantly, willingness, you can work through pretty much anything. These shows can serve as a shock to the system and break you out of the funk that sets in when you lose sight of the proverbial forest.
Now go turn on the TV and skip the $500/hour marriage counseling session.
Till next time...
This is not, however meant to be a dissertation on the evils of the boob-tube (though I promise, I will get to that at some point in the future). Needless to say, I do, in fact own a television and, much to my own dismay, find myself zoning out in front of it quite a bit. My normal fare consists of movies, cartoons (Avatar: the Last Airbender is my current favorite and I must admit a bit of an addiction. I guess I can thank my brother Nick for turning me on to that one), Survivorman and CSI. The original. Only the original. And commercials. I think commercials are one of the most important things to watch on television (Really. And I promise that I'll go into this more at a later date as well).
My wife on the other hand likes true crime, hauntings, anything on Discovery that has anything to do with Egypt or Egyptology, the BBC comedies on New Hampshire PBS on Tuesdays and **gasp** sitcoms. I used to be of the opinion that sitcoms were tripe. They are contrived, cliched, boxed up versions of everyday events that either need more serious attention or no attention at all. Seinfeld comes to mind as an example of the latter. I save a special, accute hatred for that particular program, made even more vile by the fact that it makes me laugh from time to time. But make no mistake about it, Seinfeld is evil. But as I've watched some of the sitcoms my wife likes (most notably Everybody Loves Raymond, My Family on BBC America, King of Queens, Mad About You, and the BBC comedies on NH PBS almost religiously), I've come to see these shows a little differently. As I'm sure you guessed from the title, I've begun to think of these shows as a resource for domestic bliss. It came about when my wife and I were arguing about some stupid thing or another; I really don't remember what it was, but it was probably something small. But the TV was on and when we both just shut up, the couple on the set was having the exact same argument, but scripted better.
Since then, I've watched with much less grumbling and started to actually pay attention. These shows, the better ones anyhow, are written by people that live this every day and address real issues in the home. I've seen everything from quibbles about household responsibility to financial problems, difficulties with teenage children to difficulties with the in-laws and aging to potentially marriage-ending goofs. These are real problems that real couples, both married and not face on a day to day basis. Granted, on TV they're scipted by a team of writers and generally happen in dream houses between stylish, attractive actors playing stylish, attractive people with jobs far more interesting than yours and come to a happy feel-good resolution in half an hour or less, but if you think about it, why do these shows draw such large audiences? It's not the attractive actors or the fantasy of having their house, or children that adore you all the time or the vicarious thrill of doing the fascinating job they have or hobbies they have or go to the restaurants they eat at. Sure, the voyeur element comes in, but these shows would do half as well if they didn't resonate with some element of truth.
I have a theory and if you don't want to read it, you should have gone to another page by now. On the surface, I think that this breed of sitcom serves as a reminder that you, the audience, are not the only couple that has faced this particular problem (pick one and insert here). Obviously, this is not uncommon if there were enough people on the writing team to think this episode up and put it on the air. On a deeper note, I think it serves a carthartic purpose to be able to laugh at the arguments you have and the issues you deal with. As cliche as it is, they say laughter is the best medicine, and though it might not cure cancer, I tend to agree that keeping things in perspective and maintaining the ability to laugh at ones self, surroundings or situation goes a long way in being able to ford the turbulent waters. In being able to laugh at a situation on TV that has resonance in your own lives, you can maybe take a step back, diffuse some of the tension and maybe be able to see things from your partner's perspective a little better.
Taking the issue a little further, I think that, especially for men, sitcoms provide an invaluable tool. We all do dumb things. Why? Because as a species, men are dumb. Period. We know it, they know it, I think Whatsamatta U proved it last year in a study spanning the past five generations so let's move on. I forget what comic said it, but it still as close to universal truth as the people of this planet are likely to get: Women are crazy and men are stupid. How does this apply? Men, pay attention. Sit down, watch TV with your partner (this applies to gay and lesbian couples, too. Believe me, I've know a few and the dynamic is no different, just that each partner plays both roles dependant on the moon or whatever) and pay attention. First pay attention to the show and remember: you are not smarter than the guy on TV. Trust me on this. Oh, you might not be as flagrant, blatant and obvious in the way you screw up, but you will. You'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time or in the wrong way or you'll forget an important date or fall asleep too soon after sex etcetera, etcetera. Accept this, learn from it, remember the lesson for the future (this is the important part) and move on. Second, pay attention to your partner and their reaction. If the show gets a "tsk tsk" or a "ooohhh" out of the answer to "does this dress make me look fat"on TV, gues what? That same answer is going to get you nothing but a night in the garage with the dogs if you pull it out the next time you're at the mall. If the guy on the show gets caught looking down the waitresses shirt or looking at internet porn and it earns you a punch in the shoulder or a "I'd divorce your ass", know what? Yup, chances are your partner's not kidding. If the dishes not getting done on TV gets you a glare, guess what I'd recommend as the best course of action. Just do the damn dishes and save yourself a fight.But realistically, it's not just about avoiding a fight, is it? Cause we all know what comes after a fight right? **wink, wink, nudge, nudge** What it is about is about is having respect for the other person and gaining some insight into what about you drives her (or him) up the wall.
And finally, I think these shows serve one more purpose: they serve as reminder that the fight isn't forever and you can work through it, if you want to. No, it won't be in half an hour. Hell, it might not even be in a day. But when you're in the middle of a crisis, such as it is, it's easy to lose sight of the reality that no problem is insurmountable and given the time, effort, and most importantly, willingness, you can work through pretty much anything. These shows can serve as a shock to the system and break you out of the funk that sets in when you lose sight of the proverbial forest.
Now go turn on the TV and skip the $500/hour marriage counseling session.
Till next time...
08 October 2006
24 Hour Comic Day
www.24hourcomics.com
... So 24-hour comic day is over and for the second year in a row, I'm a bad comic-geek. Not so much for not participating, but for forgetting. Now admittedly, I have not purchased a new comic in ages and so cannot be expected to be completely current on the comings and goings of full-fledged geek-dom; however, I do trumpet the cause and should have made it a point to know. To the comic-gods: please forgive this transgression!
If you don't know what this "24-Hour Comic Book Day" is, here's the skinny: a number of years ago two comic book creator friends were chatting and one, an artist, was trying to defend his seeming inability to get his pages in under deadline. The other guy (this, by the way is strictly from memory; if you want the whole story including names and titles, click on the link above) then challenges the first and bets him that he can finish a complete comic book, start to finish, words, pictures, ink, soup to nuts in twenty four hours flat. The first guy accepts and the two of them sit down to create.
Now to put this in perspective, keep in mind, a regular issue of a monthly comic is gnerally no more than 30 pages. If you're talking about a run of the mill standard format comic from one of the major producers, that page count can be cut down to 22 pages of actual content given that most comics contain advertisements. Now in the comics world, most creators work assembly-line style. each person does something different in the process: i.e. one guy writes (think of this as scripting-this guy or gal gives direction on everything else), one pencils (or does the actual drawing), one inks over the pencils, one handles the colors, one does all the lettering, and so on. Keeping all this in mind, the average comic book progresses at a rate of about one finished page per day.
Try the again: one finished page per day.
Now try to think about doing a complete comic book, start to finish in one day. 24 hours.
I'm not sure who finished and who didn't in that first challenge, but the story passed around the industry (probably pretty quickly since the world of commercial comics is pretty insular) and people picked up on the idea. Two years ago, comics fans, distributors, advocates, companies and creators came up with the first, organized, world-wide 24-Hour Comics Day. The rules were as follows: In the span of 24 consecutive hours, you had to submit a complete 24-page comic book. You were not allowed to bring preconceived story ideas or designs, pre-drawn pages, pre-written scripts, etc. Materials, page size, definition of "finished", subject matter were all up to the creator.
I participated in this, thinking that, "hey I can figure out how to make this easy." Yeah right. I was not prepared, to say the least. My writing skills were rusty to say the least, my artistic skills, such as they were, were not up to snuff and I was sitting alongside independent and commercial creators and art-school students and ametuers that had been doing this, been published and been recognized. These people were serious.
I steeled myself, sat down, closed my eyes and envisioned a falling elevator. "Good enough," I thought. I grabbed onto that and ran. The twenty four subsequent hours were a gruelling trial of sleep deprivation, cramped quarters in a small comic book shop, dwindling supplies, arthritic-like hands and back aches,bad music, worse pizza, incessant in-jokes amongst those who knew each other, chain smoking, self-doubt, self destuctive impulses and desperation. Thow into that mix cameraderie, admiration, support, improvisation, frequent visits from my girlfriend (now wife), bursts of intense creativity and pure, unadulterated stubborness.
Of 30 people who started at Casablanca Comics in Portland, ME, I was one of nine that finished. One of maybe a hundred that finished in the world. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't flashy, it probably wasn't even that good...but it was done.
I told a reporter for the Phoenix that I would be able to call myself a comic creator after having finished. In a way I can. But I've realized over the intervening two years that you can't identify yourself as somthing if you don't do it. One completed comic book, does not make me a creator; it makes me a fan and a dilletante. And that's part of the motivation behind this project...
This year, I'm told, Portland had 40 entrants, more than any site in the country, possibly the world. The event was so big, that they couldn't hold it at the shop but instead enlisted the aid of Maine College of Art (MECA) and ran it from 10:00am Saturday, October 7 to 10:00am Sunday, October 8. I don't know how many finished, but I do know that there will be a lot of sore hands today. If you get the chance, check out the website, swing by your local comics store and ask about it, support your local artists. In Portland, if you check out Casablance Comics on Middle Street, they've dedicated an entire shelf to local creators of all abilities. The folks who do these comics do them out of love of the industry, dedication and its some of the best work out there. And if they make it big, you can say "i was reading this guy or gal before they blew up!" And impress all your friends...
Till next time, true believers....
... So 24-hour comic day is over and for the second year in a row, I'm a bad comic-geek. Not so much for not participating, but for forgetting. Now admittedly, I have not purchased a new comic in ages and so cannot be expected to be completely current on the comings and goings of full-fledged geek-dom; however, I do trumpet the cause and should have made it a point to know. To the comic-gods: please forgive this transgression!
If you don't know what this "24-Hour Comic Book Day" is, here's the skinny: a number of years ago two comic book creator friends were chatting and one, an artist, was trying to defend his seeming inability to get his pages in under deadline. The other guy (this, by the way is strictly from memory; if you want the whole story including names and titles, click on the link above) then challenges the first and bets him that he can finish a complete comic book, start to finish, words, pictures, ink, soup to nuts in twenty four hours flat. The first guy accepts and the two of them sit down to create.
Now to put this in perspective, keep in mind, a regular issue of a monthly comic is gnerally no more than 30 pages. If you're talking about a run of the mill standard format comic from one of the major producers, that page count can be cut down to 22 pages of actual content given that most comics contain advertisements. Now in the comics world, most creators work assembly-line style. each person does something different in the process: i.e. one guy writes (think of this as scripting-this guy or gal gives direction on everything else), one pencils (or does the actual drawing), one inks over the pencils, one handles the colors, one does all the lettering, and so on. Keeping all this in mind, the average comic book progresses at a rate of about one finished page per day.
Try the again: one finished page per day.
Now try to think about doing a complete comic book, start to finish in one day. 24 hours.
I'm not sure who finished and who didn't in that first challenge, but the story passed around the industry (probably pretty quickly since the world of commercial comics is pretty insular) and people picked up on the idea. Two years ago, comics fans, distributors, advocates, companies and creators came up with the first, organized, world-wide 24-Hour Comics Day. The rules were as follows: In the span of 24 consecutive hours, you had to submit a complete 24-page comic book. You were not allowed to bring preconceived story ideas or designs, pre-drawn pages, pre-written scripts, etc. Materials, page size, definition of "finished", subject matter were all up to the creator.
I participated in this, thinking that, "hey I can figure out how to make this easy." Yeah right. I was not prepared, to say the least. My writing skills were rusty to say the least, my artistic skills, such as they were, were not up to snuff and I was sitting alongside independent and commercial creators and art-school students and ametuers that had been doing this, been published and been recognized. These people were serious.
I steeled myself, sat down, closed my eyes and envisioned a falling elevator. "Good enough," I thought. I grabbed onto that and ran. The twenty four subsequent hours were a gruelling trial of sleep deprivation, cramped quarters in a small comic book shop, dwindling supplies, arthritic-like hands and back aches,bad music, worse pizza, incessant in-jokes amongst those who knew each other, chain smoking, self-doubt, self destuctive impulses and desperation. Thow into that mix cameraderie, admiration, support, improvisation, frequent visits from my girlfriend (now wife), bursts of intense creativity and pure, unadulterated stubborness.
Of 30 people who started at Casablanca Comics in Portland, ME, I was one of nine that finished. One of maybe a hundred that finished in the world. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't flashy, it probably wasn't even that good...but it was done.
I told a reporter for the Phoenix that I would be able to call myself a comic creator after having finished. In a way I can. But I've realized over the intervening two years that you can't identify yourself as somthing if you don't do it. One completed comic book, does not make me a creator; it makes me a fan and a dilletante. And that's part of the motivation behind this project...
This year, I'm told, Portland had 40 entrants, more than any site in the country, possibly the world. The event was so big, that they couldn't hold it at the shop but instead enlisted the aid of Maine College of Art (MECA) and ran it from 10:00am Saturday, October 7 to 10:00am Sunday, October 8. I don't know how many finished, but I do know that there will be a lot of sore hands today. If you get the chance, check out the website, swing by your local comics store and ask about it, support your local artists. In Portland, if you check out Casablance Comics on Middle Street, they've dedicated an entire shelf to local creators of all abilities. The folks who do these comics do them out of love of the industry, dedication and its some of the best work out there. And if they make it big, you can say "i was reading this guy or gal before they blew up!" And impress all your friends...
Till next time, true believers....
14 September 2006
Brakes
I was going through some pictures the other day and came acroos this one I took in Costa Rica right before going up 800 feet into the canopy. These are the "brakes" you would use, were you to embark on a zip-line tour of the rainforest canopy.
This is how it works: you get fitted with a basic climber's harness (for the un-initiated, this is a nylon webbing belt with attached leg loops and a loop at your crotch which connects you to whatever keeps you from plummeting to a horrible "SPLAT!" You can figure the rest out from the pictures...), a helmet (not really sure why as you're higher up than really anything that would be heavy enough to do any significant damage to your squash) and a pair of these jobbies. These are leather fingered canvas gardner's gloves that the staff glue leather pads to every morning. As you slide along the zip-line at literally break-neck speed (maybe they should have given us neck-guards rather than helmets, hmmm) you hold one hand on the cord keeping you on the line and one hand behind you on the line itself to a) keep you from spinning out of control and b) slow yourself to a reasonable speed as you approach the "landing pad" (imagine the ewok villiage from Return of the Jedi--that's the image).
Now, funny story regarding the misuse of said "brakes". While we were at the resort, there was a photo shoot occurring for some swim-wear catalog. Photographers and models and various members of the entourage that tried to appear as if they had some incredibly important and arcane purpose that involved consuming massive amounts of native beer and making a spectacle of themselves--you get the picture. On Saturday, apparently, they had the day off and, regretably, disappeared to go terrorize some corner of the country that was not the resort. On Sunday, two of the entourage appeared at breakfast not only hung over (which was really not all that remarkable) bust also, mysteriously, clad in fresh casts.
It took some doing and a good deal of shameless gossiping amongst the rest of the guests, but we were able to finally able to peice together the story: these two fashionista wanna-bes thought that it would be a good idea to pound Bloody Marys prior to starting out on this adventure through the jungle as they figured that there might not be any booze in the wild. As a result, these two geniuses didn't bother to listen during the safety spiel and couldn't figure out that they actually needed to do something to prevent SLAMMING into the platform or, God-forbid , the tree it was attached to and inflicting immense bodily harm to one's own body, and .... CRACK! Yeah, you guesed it. And the best was, one watched the other one do it and then proceeded to do the exact same thing on the next line!
The moral of the story: in, well, every place other than here, where we are raised as removed from any real danger as possible, the safety spiel is a good thing to listen to; activities involving high speeds and gloves as your main method of stopping do not mix with large amounts of alcohol; and basically pay attention and respect your surroundings...enough said.
12 September 2006
Kill Em All
Over the wekend I noticed quite a few news stories regarding men on trial or being released after having served time for sex crimes. One of the women I work with recently received a letter from her 8-year-old daughter's school, informing them that a registered sex offender is moving into a place that's less than 1000ft from the school. In the news not too long ago, there was a report of a registered sex offender being killed. And the list goes on and on...
I have a couple of real problems with this issue. On the one hand, I put myself in the shoes of the parents and families of children who live such proximity to these people. I know that if I had kids, I'd be ape-shit if I got a letter saying that a registered sex-offender was being allowed to live within 1000ft of the school my kids went to because everyone else had run him (or her--I'll be using the male pronoun because, well, statistically that tends to be the case) off and his family owned land within that radius. It seems totally irresponsible to put children in proximity to that kind of risk. But then, isn't 1000ft kind of an arbitrary number? And what about 1000ft from a playground? Or from the toy section of a department store? Or, god forbid, from the home and yard of a family that has children? The truth is, the restriction on sex offenders to live outside a 1000ft area from a school is a token gesture. Yes, it will reduce the frequency said offender will come into contact with a child, but does it take away oppurtunity? Definitely not.
And should, as parents, we be expected to keep our children inside, locked away from the world to keep them safe from predators? Certainly not. How else do we expect our children to learn and become part of the world?
However, registered and convicted sex offenders, according to the courts, the verdict and punishment doled out by a 12-member jury of their peers (if such a person can really said to have peers within the normal scope of human existence) and the entirety of our society's justice system, have paid their debt to society once their sentence has been carried out and they are freed. Obviously, we do not believe this as a society or we would not continue to devise ways to keep these people on the outside. Nor she believe this to be the case. Statistically, sex offenders are more likely to commit their crimes again.
If this is the case, why do we insist on perpetuating the myth that our justice system is geared towards rehabilitation when this is obviously not the case?
This question came up during the course of a discussion on the subject with my wife and my answer was "kill 'em all." She was horrified. Understand, I am completely against the death penalty. I do not believe there is no justification for it. However, the statement I made was to illustrate the point: we, as a society are not mature enough to take responsibility for the gross realities and short-comings of our justice system, not willing to adjust that system to legitimately attempt to rehabilitate the criminals (not just sex offenders) and not prepared to accept those criminals back into society once their sentence has been carried out. The whole thing smacks of massive hypocrisy and leaves us with only two remaining options: ship them all off to a secluded island to be locked away from society for the rest of their lives (and we all know that the tourism trade will never sacrifice an island for that cause) or, as the title reads, kill 'em all. At least until we are prepared to grow up as a society and take responsibility for all of its members...
I have a couple of real problems with this issue. On the one hand, I put myself in the shoes of the parents and families of children who live such proximity to these people. I know that if I had kids, I'd be ape-shit if I got a letter saying that a registered sex-offender was being allowed to live within 1000ft of the school my kids went to because everyone else had run him (or her--I'll be using the male pronoun because, well, statistically that tends to be the case) off and his family owned land within that radius. It seems totally irresponsible to put children in proximity to that kind of risk. But then, isn't 1000ft kind of an arbitrary number? And what about 1000ft from a playground? Or from the toy section of a department store? Or, god forbid, from the home and yard of a family that has children? The truth is, the restriction on sex offenders to live outside a 1000ft area from a school is a token gesture. Yes, it will reduce the frequency said offender will come into contact with a child, but does it take away oppurtunity? Definitely not.
And should, as parents, we be expected to keep our children inside, locked away from the world to keep them safe from predators? Certainly not. How else do we expect our children to learn and become part of the world?
However, registered and convicted sex offenders, according to the courts, the verdict and punishment doled out by a 12-member jury of their peers (if such a person can really said to have peers within the normal scope of human existence) and the entirety of our society's justice system, have paid their debt to society once their sentence has been carried out and they are freed. Obviously, we do not believe this as a society or we would not continue to devise ways to keep these people on the outside. Nor she believe this to be the case. Statistically, sex offenders are more likely to commit their crimes again.
If this is the case, why do we insist on perpetuating the myth that our justice system is geared towards rehabilitation when this is obviously not the case?
This question came up during the course of a discussion on the subject with my wife and my answer was "kill 'em all." She was horrified. Understand, I am completely against the death penalty. I do not believe there is no justification for it. However, the statement I made was to illustrate the point: we, as a society are not mature enough to take responsibility for the gross realities and short-comings of our justice system, not willing to adjust that system to legitimately attempt to rehabilitate the criminals (not just sex offenders) and not prepared to accept those criminals back into society once their sentence has been carried out. The whole thing smacks of massive hypocrisy and leaves us with only two remaining options: ship them all off to a secluded island to be locked away from society for the rest of their lives (and we all know that the tourism trade will never sacrifice an island for that cause) or, as the title reads, kill 'em all. At least until we are prepared to grow up as a society and take responsibility for all of its members...
10 September 2006
...in addition...
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So here's the picture of Josh and Kate I mentioned earlier...these are the folks that came down with us...
09 September 2006
Getting Started
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So....this is a long time overdue. I've been thinking about doing this for quite some time but never really quite got around to it. So here we go...
...first off, this will be (or at least is intended to be) an exercise in getting me to actually write on a regular basis, post some of my artwork out there for general consumption and criticism and share things I come across that I think are pretty damn cool, or at least worth pointing out.
To start, and this is pretty damn cool, I got married. Now I realize that the picture is almost a year old as is the news, but, hey! at least it's out there now. As of October 3rd, 2005, Rebecca Michel Ivey (and I'm confident that she'll be pretty miffed at me for putting her full name out there...if you don't want to piss her off, make sure you address her as Becca; anything else you're on your own...) became Rebecca Michel Geneseo on a volcanic sand beach where the river meets the ocean on Papagayo Bay, Costa Rica.
For those of you who don't know the story, Becca & I dated in high school and fell in love when her family moved to Mass from Texas. Unfortunately, as many young loves are wont to do, we ended badly and spent the next ten years of our lives with no contact whatsoever...
...and the story picks up in March of 2002, when shortly after my mother passed away after a long battle with cancer (I'm sure there will be more on this to follow) I got a phone call: I was home after the funeral for my brother's birthday and was out the door to drive out to Amherst, MA, when the phone rang. I picked up against better judgement as neither my father nor brother looked to be about to pick it up. The voice on the other end, was one that I had thought about many times in the intervening years but didn't think I'd ever hear again. I wasn't positive at first, but when Becca told me who it was, I dropped the phone on the floor of the kitchen like I was in high school again.
We talked for a couple of hours and I found that I had an unusual feeling between my stomach and throat that I hadn't felt in a long time in addition to finding that talking to her was like no time at all had passed. I hung up feeling better than I had in a long time and seriously considered skipping the I-90 exit to head out West and instead drive North to Portland where I'd learned Becca was now living; I felt like I needed to see her RIGHT NOW! But, the little voices of Reason and Impulse had matured over the years and the balance of power had shifted and I told myself it couldn't possibly be the "L"-word after ten years and a phone call, so I turned off and headed out to the Pioneer Valley to visit some friends and try to clear my head after the funeral and everything that goes along with it. By the way, I was wrong. This is a lesson I took to heart: when in doubt, don't follow the advice of Reason; it tends to take much longer to get to the same place.
We started talking on the phone periodically and then making the trip from Boston to Portland or vice versa to visit and then it turned into dating and, well, the rest as they say is history...
...well, I was going to include a picture of our friends Josh & Kate, but as I am new at this, I can't seem to figure out how to include more than one picture per post--I'll have to work on that...
Anyhow, this whole story is give you an idea of how important Becca is to me. Not only is she the love of my life, she's also my biggest fan, the best thing ever happened to my artwork and the biggest fire under my hind-end to get some of my work, be it written, drawn, painted, photographed or some combination of the lot. I figured this would be a good start.
So, welcome to Rocket Fuel Sushi, hope you find something worth coming back for...
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