Prop 8. Was it Un-American?

It’s fair enough if people want to call the passing of California’s Proposition 8 ‘Bigoted” “Mean-Spirited” or ‘Discriminatory”. I’ll even let you call it ‘Superstitious’ ‘Hateful’ and ‘fearful’. Choose whatever spin-word you want to define it.

But I won’t tolerate it when people define it’s passing as “Un-American”.

Back in the days of the original 13 colonies, one of the issues that set the stage for revolution was the fact that even though the American Colonies paid it’s due taxes to the Crown, they had no direct representation in the British Parliament. The Governors, for the most part, were chosen by the Crown to over see each state. In other words, the Crown could impose any burdensome tax as it deemed fit without any consideration of it’s subjects. It was reasonable to assume that the Crown could also impose any law without those being subject to it to have representation in it’s implementation. The colonies felt that their rights, as Englishmen, had been directly violated. At what point would the Crown stop? Where did it’s power end and the power of it’s citizens begin? Could corruption be kept in check and could subjects to The Crown be protected from that corruption? It opened the doors to tyranny.

As history shows, revolution occurred, and America prevailed in building a government for the people, by the people.

As tax payers, we are entitled to representation. Proposition 8, and it’s support, was legal, and the right of the citizens that supported it to represent themselves within that states government. Likewise, those who were against it’s passing mobilized and represented themselves, and their cause, to the state. The citizens of that state were then given a right to vote on how they wanted their laws to represent them, and their values. Proposition 8 was passed, and the voice of the people was heard. They chose to define Marriage as between a man and a woman, and nothing else.

A few days ago, the courts were asked to either uphold the vote, or strike it down as unconstitutional. Looking it over, they knew that proceedure had been followed, the people has spoken and they didn’t have the authority to deny any law that the people it represented had voted for. Government for the people, by the people.

It doesn’t get any more American than that.

I would have considered it Un-American if the courts made their own decisions on the matter and disregarded the voice of the people in order to satisfy their own personal agendas and beliefs. I would have been highly suspicious of that outcome. I would have wondered who was getting paid, blackmailed or otherwise leveraged to go against the principles that it was sworn to uphold. That is Un-American.

“Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness” isn’t specifically defined. We aren’t told what that ought to mean to us, and for good reason. It’s up to American Society to define it’s laws, based on it’s values. We, as taxpayers and citizens, have the right to have our fair representation as to what laws we base our society on, and to have it honored by our government. This puts the responsibility squarely on us. If America goes down the shitter, it’s the peoples fault. We have an accountability. We have a stake in the structure of our society. We have the liberty to choose, have our voice be heard, and ultimately, chart our own course for our nation.

So, whether it be a ban on gay marriage, the right to bear arms, the right to a fair trial, the right to free speech or any of our other precious freedoms, what those freedoms mean will be defined by the people.

It was not a Nazi plot, it was not religious tyranny, it was not unethical financial support of one party or another. It was the choice of the people.

So, define the law as whatever you will. You can spin it as a reflection of a hateful Californian society or you can call it a triumph of family values in the face of an ever increasing surge of immorality. Either way, it was American, and GOD BLESS AMERICA!!

My country, my society, my responsibility to have a voice in it’s course, and my accountability for it’s success or failure. It doesn’t get any more liberating than that.

“Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both.” -Benjamin Franklin

Meeting Bill Pt. 2

“Ask your questions.”

“Questions?”

“You’ve been questioning”

I could feel it was him, though I hadn’t gathered the courage to open my eyes yet.

“How do you know?”

“The data shows it. We’ve observed your writings.”

“Oh.”

I wondered how they had made that observation, but knew that I wouldn’t be able to wrap my brain around the technology that could record such a thing. I locked doors, shut windows, drew blinds and kept my writings in a small fire-safe. The best explanation was interception of visual information as it travelled to the brain from the eyes. Then using a type of translator, they were able to observe what I was observing.

“Many of you question. But you don’t look for answers. We’ve observed a fear response to viable answers in you’re species.”

I thought about that statement for a few seconds, then, in usual fashion, waited. But there were no tests being performed, no extractions being done, no obervations being recorded.

I waited….

“Ask your questions”

I opened my eyes to the soft white light that immersed my nude body as I lay paralyzed on the table.

“Why do I have to be naked?” I asked.

“Our work is carried out more effectively and efficiently if your clothing isn’t on”

“I should tell my wife that one of these nights… ” I thought to myself. I chuckled. No sooner had that chuckle escaped me, than 5 grey beings surrounded me, took measurements, drew blood, and did other various tests that I couldn’t even speculate as to what the purpose of them were. As quicky as they came, they left, leaving only Bills presence.

“Ask your questions.”

He just wanted me to ask. I thought for a minute, wondering where I would start, if it matters what I asked, or if I should ask my questions in a certain order, one questions answers building up to another questions. I couldn’t quite decided, so I just blurted out my first, most obvious question, “Who are you?”

Meeting Bill. Pt1

Bill is a good enough guy. I don’t think it’s fair that humans judge him and his people so harshly. They aren’t demons, the are just trying to survive. I don’t think any being is beneath taking such drastic measure to save their own species and lineage.

I met Bill face to face for the first time while swimming in a blue beam of light. His face was expressionless, grey and lacking empathy. His large glassy black eyes reflected my own confusion and horror at my inconceivable situation, and that was about all of the emotion that would be mustered from that stone cold face. Swimming and churning in the light, which seemed to have the consistency of ultra low-density water, I felt like a fish in a large glass cylinder, viewing the sterile surroundings of inexplicable form and incomprehensible technology. Then Bill nudged my arm and all went black and silent. That is about all I can recollect of our first encounter.

Though that was the first memory of our meeting, it certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, there are several hazy, dreamlike memories that follow that first meeting. Each time, Bill was there to observe and to analyze my every atom. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t degrading. I don’t remember any rectal exams, though it’s more than likely since they rarely ever did this to women, and I was a man. It was mainly the men that were the subjects of this particular practice. It wasn’t the anus or the rectum that interested them, it was the prostate, along with its fluids.

Bill looked very similar to the rest of his kind. I only recognized him by his presence. It’s not explainable, and it’s not a feeling. Its just a knowing that this entity was around. No words were ever exchange, just impressions. Clear, concise impressions.

This is why Bill was know to me as “Bill.” He had no name, just presence. I had to call him something since I couldn’t comprehend identifying a being by their presence alone and had to give him a mark. He understood this and so he sent me the impression that, in order to more effectively study me, he had to accomodate my level of comprehension. Therefore, he gave me the name Bill to attached to his identity. Why he chose Bill, I don’t know. But I’m sure his was decision was based on generations of statistics and the most sound of reasoning.

His presence would be known sparsely through the next 7 years of my life. Just a patchwork of hazy memories and impressions. A flash here and there of bright lights, quiet humming and being meticulously observed while lying down.

During this time, I quietly questioned why I was the subject of such meticulous scrutiny, never revealing my experience to anyone. Some nights, I wouldn’t sleep, trying to remember just what happened whenever Bill was present, and to glean as many details as I could gather from my malfunctioning memory. The experiences after the first meeting never roused any emotion in me, and that is what was so horrifying. To not feel during such an incredible experience, but to simply be there, observing being observed. A human must have an emotional response to his experience to make any value judgements on whether what has happened was good or bad, right or wrong, happy or sad etc. These emotional responses just weren’t there during the observations and statistic collecting. I was the subject of a most rational of projects, and that was only thing that mattered.

It troubled me that, even though I should have been outraged by being treated like a lab animal, fearful and resistant, I wasn’t. Those emotions came after the fact, when the observation was done. I couldn’t fathom what was happening to me, and if what I had experienced was even real. It became a huge burden to bear.

I began to write everything down as I remembered it. I began to write down the questions I had, and to try to come to some sort of conclusion. My biggest question though, oddly enough, was “Who is Bill?”