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Wednesday, December 19, 2007

HO, HO, HO, MERRY SATURN!

I have been pondering the story of the “First Christmas”. There was the famous stable (which was evidently filled with constipated animals as there was no poop to desecrate the sanctified event) and there was Mary (who was giving birth without labor pains or bleeding since female bleeding was a notorious Jewish anathema) and there was Joseph who seems to have been regulated to the waiting room. That, presumably, left the baby Jesus to gum through his own umbilical cord since there was no midwife mentioned in the Holy Scriptures. But there was a choir of angles on high singing at the top of their lungs, but heard only by the heavenly host, who were closely attending to every minute detail. But that opens up the core conundrum of Jesus. Was he the son of Mary and Joseph who suffers and struggles to be born and to avoid death and yet eventually dies, as do all men? Or was he the son of God who was just slumming here on Earth until daddy called him home? And what if the rabbi from Nazareth had won over the Pharisees? Then God’s plan of a death on the cross would have been screwed and Joshua Ben Joseph would have been a famous Jewish rabbi and there never would have been a “Christ”. But we would still have had a Christmas. We just would have called it something else.
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It is not a coincidence that in the Northern Hemisphere the winter solstice, when the “sol stands still” (December 21 or 22), roughly coincides with the celebration of the birth of Christ, Mithras, Osiris, Apollo, Baal, Dionysus, Horus, Helios and the feast of Saturnalia. In fact, like the American “Presidents’ Day” Monday holiday scheme, the multi-deity Romans referred to December 25th simply as “The Birthday of the Unconquered Sun”, to avoid insulting any of the cults and “mystery religions” that peppered the capital of the world, each holding their own celebration of the birthday of the one true god. And there must have been a Roman rabble rouser or two preaching against the “War on Saturnalia” or similar such horse manure.
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But all this religious fervor is concentrated at this season simply because the earth is tilted off its true axis by 23 ½ degrees, which causes the length of daylight to vary over the course of each orbit around the sun. With no theory of gravity or elliptical orbits the ancients had to explain why the days always got shorter and then got longer again. And so something magical must happen on the longest night of the year, else the nights would just keep getting longer. The birth of a god on this night must have seemed an obvious explanation, at least more obvious than claiming the world had a 23 ½ degree axial tilt.
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To many in the 3rd century CE that obvious magical event, attended to by Magi priests, was the birth of Mithra. He was traditionally depicted in his subterranean temples in the act of slaying a bull, assisted by other creatures drawn from the Zodiac. By slaying Taurus, the constellation visible directly above Orion the hunter in the Northern skies from mid-winter into March, Mithra thus provided a logical reason why the cold and dark of winter would begin to recede. With “proof” visible in the sky, it was a hard argument for the Christians to counter. Their tale of three Magi attending the birth of the Christ thus showed that even devout followers of Mithras had been spontaneously converted to the true faith.
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But the one thing we know from Christianity’s own record of their messiah is that he could not have been born in December. In Luke 2:8 the New Testament says that the night of Christ’s birth, “…there were shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night”. But by November any shepherd with two neurons to rub together would pen up their flocks in doors over the cold 14 hour nights, to protect them and keep them fed and warm. A real Jesus might have been conceived under the sign of Taurus, but if so he was probably born in late summer or fall. So why later insist that the birth of Christ had happened in December?
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The answer is competition. Competition forced Christianity to first move the location of Christ’s birth to the city of King David, Bethlehem, allowing them to imply that Jesus was of royal Jewish blood, and then to drop the restriction of circumcision to allow pagans to easily convert directly into the new faith. Competition for converts encouraged the Christian adoption of the popular belief that Mithra would forgive all sins and, after death, grant eternal life. And it was competition that inspired Christianity’s compromise with the most joyous and attractive celebration of the “pagan” year: Saturnalia.
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The god Saturn was the grandfather in both the Roman and the Greek Pantheons. It was his temple that held the Roman treasury. But by 50 CE Seneca the Younger could write, “It is now December, when the greatest part of the city is a bustle….everywhere you hear the sounds of great preparations, as if there were some real difference between the days devoted to Saturn and those for transacting business…” By then, what had started under the Republic as a single day of respect for the old man on December 17th, had gradually grown into a more than a week, described by Catullus as “…the best of days”, marked by gift exchanges (saturnalia et sigillaricia), parties, family gatherings, special holiday clothing complete with a peaked cap, feasts with holiday treats and public religious spectacles. And a special holiday greeting was adopted; “Ho, praise to Saturn!” which would later reappear as St. Nicolas’s merry greeting, “Ho, ho ho.”
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Saturn is interesting for Christians for a couple of other reasons. First, as a younger god he seems to have had a lot in common with the vengeful, jealous figure described in the Old Testament. Age mellowed him. And second, of course, is the original day of rest devoted to him, Saturday. But there is also the astrological symbol for Saturn, a combination of a scythe (he was the god of farmers and the harvest) and the female symbol (he was also the god of fertility). Put those two together and you get something that looks like a cross with a tail on it, something the Kabbalists and Gnostics found very meaningful.
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But then those guys found meaning in everything.
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Thursday, December 13, 2007

THE TRUTH ABOUT GOD

I have a few quibbling problems with Christianity, such as the story of the virgin birth; but fundamentally I just can’t accept the idea that God has a mysterious plan to help each and every one of us. For example; on Sunday, last July 26th, off Deerfield Beech, Florida, thirty-six year old Steven Wilson was scuba diving with three friends. At about 3pm, just as he surfaced, a bolt of lightning materialized and was instantly drawn to the highest and most metallic thing on the ocean surface, which at that micro-second was Steven’s oxygen tank. After the strike his friends saw him go under and quickly got him to the surface and back aboard their 20 foot boat. They preformed CPR, radioed ahead for help and headed for shore. An EMT squad met them on the beach and rushed Steven to the North Broward Medical Center’s Level II Trauma Center, where…Steven Wilson was pronounced dead. Now, I’m certain Steven’s family and friends all believe that God had a reason for hitting their loved one with 150,000 volts, and in an odd way I hope they are right. But I have doubts.
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I also have doubts about the whole association of sin and punishment. It doesn’t seem just or fair that a 34 year old sheet metal manufacturer and weekend rugby player such as Hiroshi Miyamoto, who had undergone simple surgery to repair a torn Achilles tendon, was then gunned down while recovering in his 2nd floor hospital room. He had a wife and two sons, and an aged mother who lived with them. What the hell kind of a moral plan accommodates that type of “final reward”?
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At about 7:40 am on November 8th, a nurse at the Saga Orthopedic Hospital heard gunshots and saw a man between 5’3 and 5’7 tall and of medium build, running down a stairwell. A patient looking out a window saw the same man wearing a black wool hat, a brown jacket and beige slacks get into a white Toyota, which then quickly pulled away driven by a woman. Back upstairs the nurse found poor Mr. Miyamoto lying on the floor with “several” bullet wounds to his back. About 40 minutes later he was pronounced dead. The cops were puzzled until a check of the records revealed that the previous occupant of that particular room had been Shigeki Koiga, leader of the Kyushu Seido-kai mob, which has been engaged in a turf war for over a year after splitting away from the Dojin-kai, one of the 39 recognized gangs that form the “boryokudan" (violent groups) of the Yakuza.
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The theory that poor Mr. Miyamoto’s sin was in just being in the wrong place at the wrong time gained credence a week later when Mr. Koiga was gunned down outside another hospital in Omuta. And a couple of days later Mr. Fumio Imada, a soldier in Dojin-kai, and his moll girlfriend were arrested on gun charges. Police said he was the “shooter” of poor Mr. Miyamoto, and she had driven the getaway car, his white Toyota.
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These guys are not romanticized master criminals, like the “Crazy 88” from Kill Bill Volume 1. These guys are violent thugs, as greedy and stupid and ruthless as any white supremacist gang here in the United States. And being murdered by them by accident carries no moral lesson, except that random murder is a lousy foundation for a social structure and pretty inefficient as a gang methodology as well And that remains true whether the society claims Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, or Shinto traditions. There are in the human world a handful of truths that are always true. They supersede religious morality, even though they are often mistaken for religious morality, like the eternal truth that going through life drunk off your ass is not a good idea.
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On American Thanksgiving of this year, humanity received yet another lesson of this latter “truth” when the Jackson County Sheriff’s Deputies responded to an early morning 911 call in the town of Nicholson, Georgia. At about 1am a middle-aged couple completed a night of drinking by getting into an argument. And at the some point the husband accentuated his position by describing his 43 year old wife with an expletive (presumably the “B” word) and she responded by throwing a raw potato at him. And, by some amazing coincidence, the potato struck the lucky hubby right on the bridge of the nose and knocked him cold. In a panic the wife dialed 911. The police and the paramedics arrived shortly there after. But, since he was not dead (yet), and since she insisted she had not meant to hit him (this time), and, since he quickly came to and was not permanently injured and refused to press charges, the deputies and the EMT’s went on about their duties. No arrests were made, not even a ticket for disturbing the peace was issued and thus no names were recorded for posterity. But I feel certain that, God willing, the whole gang will be meeting again this holiday season at their house in Nicholson, on New Year's Eve if not before.
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And that’s a truth.
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Tuesday, December 11, 2007

CURSED WORDS

I have not visited the community of Scranton, Pennsylvania since I passed through the “The Electric City” in the summer of 1971, and yet the police department of Scranton has recently offended me. This is sad because Scranton can not afford to be offending anybody. Every decade since 1930, when it had 143,000 citizens, the population of this town on the Eastern edge of the “Rust Belt” has shrunk, until today there are little more then 72,000 residents in a town the Washington Post described as “awfuler” (than neighboring Wilke-Barre, which The Post called “awful”). You wouldn’t think the Scranton Chamber of Commerce would be encouraging any more bad publicity and yet that is exactly what the Scranton Police Department has delivered right to the front door of Lakawanna county Court Magistrate Terrence V. Gallagher. And appropriately enough this load of “crap” was brought on by a backed up toilet.
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924 Lucerne Avenue in Scranton is a corner lot bordering Aswell Court. Living there at about 8pm on the evening of Thursday, October 11th of this year was 34 year old Dawn Herb, a single mother of four children. That night she was struggling with a backed up toilet in a second floor bathroom. And when the damn thing began spewing fouled water and soiled toilet paper all over the small bathroom, down the hall and through the ceiling of her kitchen, Dawn responded with a series of loud oaths and curses, all directed at the toilet and at urging her daughter to respond with a mop and bucket; but which also carried out an open bathroom window and across the street, where they were heard by 12 year old Sydney Gilman who was letting her dog in. This young lady dutifully told her father, Patrick Gilman, that there might be a fight going on and he went out to investigate.
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What he heard, he later testified, was a woman shout, “Are you fucking retarded? Get me a fucking mop!” In response Mr. Gilman might have been solicitous of his neighbor’s crises. But instead he says he yelled, “Watch your mouth! There are young children in this neighborhood!” Mr. Gilman says Dawn then shouted back, “Shut the fuck up!” However Dawn says he told her to “Shut the fuck up!” and she responded by telling him to “Mind your own business.” But whatever the particulars, Dawn was clearly exasperated and Mr. Gilman was clearly offended. Under normal circumstances he would have called the cops, who would have shown up, cautioned her to be quieter and asked him to be more understanding, or, if he insisted, Mr. Gilman might have sworn out a complaint, and that would likely have been the end of it. It happens a thousand times every night in neighborhoods all over America. But these were not normal circumstances because Patrick Gilman is a Scranton police officer. Officer Gilman was off duty at the time, but when a cop calls a cop, they respond.
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Specifically, Officer Gilman called on-duty Scranton officer Gerald Tallo, directly. He recorded Officer Gilman’s complaints and then wrote out a citation for Dawn Herb, charging her with disorderly conduct, which in Pennsylvania can be obscene language or gestures which “causes public inconvenience, annoyance or alarm”. Her punishment could be 90 days in jail and a $300 fine.
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The words Dawn admitted uttering have ancient and honorable origins and uses. One of the Christian-Judeo names for Satan, Beelzebub, is, in fact, an ancient Hebrew insult. Beel was the primary Philistine god and Beelzebub translates as “Beel eats shit”. Clearly that oath was designed to cause public inconvenience, annoyance or alarm amongst the Phoenician cities the Israelites coveted. But the Hebrew’s had it easy in the oath department because they had seven or eight names for their one God, most of which involved avoiding saying his “real” name, “Yahweh”, which would later be mistranslated as “Jehovah”. And, as Monty Python so artfully explained, using Jehovah's name (taking it in vain) in various forms, has always been a punishable offense.
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The Puritans we call the Pilgrim Fathers dealt with the same threats to their social structure that Officer Gilman deals with in 21st century Scranton. In 1637 two men, John Alexander and Thomas Roberts, were convicted of homosexual acts and were hanged. The next year Alice Bishop was hanged for the murder of her own 4 year old daughter. Thomas Granger was sent to the gallows for engaging in sex with livestock, and so were the livestock – which seems a redundant punishment for them. But cursing God was so common an offense amongst the punishment-happy Puritans that they merely sent the convicted to the stocks for three hours or so. It makes me wonder how many Pilgrim "Dawn Herbs" or "Larry Craigs" willingly took to the stocks to avoid the more serious charge of “denying the scriptures”, which was punishable by a whipping.
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But this Dawn Herb was not going to slip her head into the stocks quietly. (I begin to doubt that Dawn ever did anything quietly in her life!) That very night she composed a letter to The Scranton Times- Tribune“I was fighting with my overflowing toilet tonight, with a plunger and a mouthful of words…There was no criminal intent to do anything….I don’t even have a criminal record and I don’t want (one)… for this stupid incident.” The Times-Tribune wrote it up as a story and shortly there after the Washington Post awarded the Scranton P.D. “The Joe Friday Award for Overzealous Police Work.” The Associated Press picked up the story and that brought Dawn to the attention of the American Civil Liberty Union.
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Valarie Burch, and ACLU attorney based in Harrisburg said the ACLU gets “about one of these cases a year. It is simply unconstitutional for the government to criminalize the use of curse words.” And Mary Roper, another ACLU attorney called the case, “…an extreme example of the government trying to intrude into a place they have no business being, your bathroom and your home.” And Barry Dyller, who volunteered to defend Dawn, suggested “Even if you assume every fact…is true, its still not a crime to curse. All we need to do is say, ‘So what?”.
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And in front of Judge Gallagher on December 10th, that is pretty much what Mr. Dyller did. He questioned Officer Gilman on cross as to why he had called Officer Tallo direct, rather than dial 911, but basically the defense case was presented in closing argument. “There was nothing sexual about the words coming out of Dawn Herb’s mouth”, which meant, Dyller argued, they were not “obscene” and thus not subject to government intervention. “We’re allowed to swear at each other," he added. "It doesn’t mean we should, but we are allowed to, and the government and the law cannot stick its nose into these private matters.”
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Judge Gallagher said he would issue his judgment in two or three weeks, but actually, within 48 hours he issued his decision. He wrote that Dawn's choice of words might be "offensive, vulgar and imprudent ..." they were also "protected by the First Amendment. Meanwhile A Times-Tribune poll found that 85% of readers thought the charges should be simply dropped. Dawn Herb told the reporters before the hearing, “Just hopefully this is the first and the last time I have to come in here. Hopefully it doesn’t get extended, or, I hope the charges just get dropped. That’s all I’m looking for.”
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Friday, December 07, 2007

HOCUS, POCUS; Making the Elephant Vanish!

I would call it the elephant in the middle of the room, but that doesn’t begin to define its impact nor its opaqueness. It has been whispered about, smirked and wise-cracked about on Democratic net sites with increasing frequency and venom and decreasing impact on the mainstream press for seven years now. With 80% of Republicans still claiming to approve of President Shrub (at least until this latest fiasco) the mainstream press, striving for the appearance of neutral reporting, remains transported with their audience to an alternate universe, a sort of “Emperor’s New Clothes” world, where the unstated assumption is always assumed not be assumed, even while its assumption influences every nuance and inflection of political debate. That assumption is that George W. Shrub is the biggest idiot to sit in the oval office since Woodrow Wilson suffered a stroke and fell off a White House toilet. But while Wilson struggled to recapture his mind and body, G.W. Shrub has no such expectations or abilities.
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The latest fiasco was, of course, the newest National Intelligence Estimate (NIE), the collective work product of 16 separate government intelligence agencies. This collective brain power has decided that not only is Iran not currently building nuclear bombs, they haven’t been building bombs since 2004, despite the repeated doomsday predictions from that Cassandra of the NEOCONs, Dick Cheney. The Iranians retain the capability of restarting a nuclear program but if and when they do, we no longer retain the credibility of being believed when we cry wolf. That loss of credibility is just another legacy of his Shrub-ness. And now, if the press were actually reality based, they would be asking the question posed by a previous generation of Republican statesmen (when the Republicans still had statesmen), “What did the President know and when did he know it?” And the current in vogue unasked question; “Why didn’t Jesus tell him to know it?”
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It was almost amusing to watch the Shrub that exists only in the headlines, jumping through hoops of illogic. TIME Magazine found our Great Leader still competent enough to insist “…you can bet that an explosive, 180 degree turn on Iran like this one was greenlighted by the President.” While Michael Hirsh for NEWSWEEK described the “…second, and less noted, effect of the new NIE is that the already tattered credibility of this administration…is shredded – simply gone with the wind.” Less noted by whom? And less noted, why? In what must be the journalistic understatement of a presidency chronicled by journalistic understatements, Jonathan Landay from McCLATCHY NEWSPAPERS observed that, “The President will now find it difficult to persuade Russia and China – and even America’s European allies – to impose new sanctions on Iran.” True, but what would be truly amazing is if some allied nation does not seriously propose sanctions against us!
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In the JERSUALEM POST, Calev Ben-David struggled to contain his disgust with Israel’s most dependable friend – Shrub. “Whatever one may think of the new National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) report on Iran’s nuclear intentions and capabilities, there is no doubt it provides some telling and timely insights into a regime whose true direction and condition many analysts here in Jerusalem have been trying to discern for the past year, That regime is the Bush administration.” The allies of Shrub, from Britain to Australia to Israel, have already begun dealing with the Post-Shrub reality based reality, where they didn’t merely back the wrong horse, they backed a dead horse. Domestically,
Shrub’s job approval rating has been virtually unchanged from an abysmal 33% for over a year now, and, in the words of Gallup, “…it is unlikely Bush’s approval rating will get much better between now and the end of his term.”
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The Zogby poll found that “Among Republicans, 67% of likely Iowa caucus goers and 68% of likely New Hampshire primary voters said they are angry with the political system… (21% and 26%)…said they are “very angry”…Most of their anger appears directed at Congress…(but)Nearly half – 43% - of likely Republicans voters in New Hampshire said they were angry at President Bush.” As Gallup also noted, “…Bush’s support has eroded most among Republicans.” And yet, if you watch the polical-tainment programs like HARDBALL you would think that the machinations of Republican candidates to replace Shrub should be taken seriously. The best thing that could happen to the GOP in 2008 is if they go down to ignominious and total defeat.
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How rare it is to be able, in all honesty and sincerity, to tell Republicans that if they want to save their party, this year they should vote for the elephant in the middle of the room; Vote Democratic.
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Sunday, December 02, 2007

EMILY, WE HARDLY KNEW YOU.

I am just pissed off. The violent death of Emily Sander has left the usual wreckage. Her family is devastated. Her friends are bereft. The Kansas towns where she grew up and went to college have been wounded. But in a month or two few of us will remember her name, and we will forget that once again we got a look behind the veneer and saw the true face of our news media; provocateurs who cater to the public’s prurient interests. Without the ennoblement of the Bill of Rights, they (we) would all have been arrested as pornographers long ago. And the truly ironic aspect is that the media have been selling their papers by billing Emily as an “internet porn star”, as if the pittance she made from selling her image and reputation had ever come anywhere near the treasure collected each day by CNN, NBC, FOX, and even the Associated Press, selling Emily’s image and reputation. Her life didn’t make her newsworthy to them. Marketing her self as the “barely legal, Zoey Zane” certainly did not distinguish her significantly from millions of others living a fantasy on the net. Even her brutal murder by itself did not earn her a dubious equation with “man bites dog”. But her life and death and that word “pornography” appearing in the same paragraph is what finally made Emily Sander “worthy” as news.
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The word “pornography” was born from an odd root. The ancient Greek sources are “porneia”, meaning fornication, and “graphein” meaning to write. They refer to the advertising signs hung outside the prostitute’s place of business. For three thousand years a “pornographer” was anyone who wrote anything about the lives of prostitutes or their customers. It wasn’t until the Victorian age (about 1850) that the noun “pornographer” evolved into the more specific meaning of “…Someone who presents, shows or sells writing or pictures whose primary purpose is to cause sexual arousal”. But the last 150 years has failed to inspire a simple accurate definition of what is now considered to be pornographic. In 1964 Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart admitted that the best description he could provide was, “I know it when I see it.” And it is that hazy justification which allows the news media to sell Emily Sander as an “internet porn star” without calling themselves “pornographers”.
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Emily was a lovely, vibrant 18 year old woman, discovering her sexuality at a time when the internet and the electronic revolution has given young women more power over their bodies than ever before in history. She wanted to make a profit from that power. And if that was a mistake it was her mistake to make. But Kansas is infamous for its fear of shifting that power away from the old men who have traditionally held it. In a battle reminiscent of the temperance movement, today in Kansas two separate special grand juries are seeking to punish doctors and nurses who perform “legal” abortions. But Emily Sander is and was proof that that cultural war has already been lost.
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Emily’s death is no more proof that internet sex sites are dangerous for women than the murder of Stacy Peterson, the missing Chicago cops 4th wife, is proof that being married to a cop is inherently dangerous. These two women (if Stacy Peterson was murdered, as I suspect) were not murdered as punishment for some moral shortcoming, no matter what the implied moral the media wants to tag on their lives. They were murdered by men. And 57% of all women who are murdered are killed by their husbands or ex-husbands or boyfriends. And that puts Emily in the unlucky minority. That should have made her worthy of being a headline; but it didn’t. As the saying goes, sex sells – especially it sells newspapers and cable news time. The slaughter of another young woman by an enraged male ego is simply another “dog bites man” story and not “news worthy”; unless she could be described as an “internet porn star”.
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Well, Emily wasn’t much of a “star” until she was murdered by the media. On what was once her web site (ZoeyZane.com) her business partners, RagingBucks, posted the following; “Emily was a solo nude model whose site went live September 25, 2007…the media…sent more traffic to Emily’s adult site in two hours then the site has received in the two months since the site has gone live”. The “Fort Worth Star-Telegram” printed the absurd statistic that 30,000 customers paid $39.95 a month to look at Emily’s nude photos. In fact “RagingBucks” offers access to images of dozens of young women at that price and Emily was merely one of the newest. And in any case, it is also an assertion that any one who has ever been the victim of internet porn pop-ups and seen the prices listed can testify is “not a viable business model”, as 5 minutes of investigation by this main stream media source would have shown.
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"RagingBucks has set up a fund for Emily's family and seeded it with $3,000. The least the "Star-Telegram" could do is match that amount, so that Emily might at least be paid symbolically part of the money she made for them. And in what may be the most poignant overlooked element of this story, in “cyber speak” to be “zane” is to be sane and insane at the same time. Who ever picked that “nom de internet” for Emily was prescient.


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But what finally, ultimately pisses me off is that if you “Google” the name Emily Sanders you get 1,920,000 references, and almost all of them refer to her at some point as an "internet porn star". But if you Google “Isreal Mireles” you get just 734 hits, and he’s the SOB suspected of killing her. He is still at large with his 16 year old pregnant girl friend. And I hope he gives himself up without hurting anybody else, including himself. Because what the media needs right now is a good salacious murder trial, ala O.J. Don't you think?
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