Why the GOP Must Pay Attention to This Huntsman Fellow

This is it, folks. This is the bottom line for the Republican party:

The Case for Jon Huntsman - Mickey Edwards - National - The Atlantic: "For the sake of the country, the focus in the Republican contest must begin to shift from who would be the best cheerleader for a particular ideological mindset to who would be the best president -- not the best president of the tea party or the Ripon Society or any other subset of the Republican electorate, but of all 300 million Americans of different backgrounds, different concerns, different interests, and different preferences."

'via Blog this'

The article goes on to clarify that he may not bring the far-right to its feet in adulation and excitement, but the GOP needs to remember that more than just the conservative base will be voting next November. Besides perhaps Ron Paul, Huntsman is the only candidate that can bring in that delicate mix of moderates, independents, and disaffected Democrats to gain enough votes to unseat their hated Obama.

You don't defeat a sitting President by being his polar opposite. You defeat a sitting President by stealing his base right out from under him.

Probably Over-thinking It: I'm Afraid You'll Need a Working Knowledge of All the Toy Story Movies to Keep Up With Us On This One

What's with Woody?

We know a couple of things about the toys in Toy Story as a rule. First, there is nothing a toy loves more than its child. For its entire existence, a toy will want nothing more than to be played with and to make a child happy.

This is illustrated in a few ways: Obviously first and foremost is Woody's ceaseless devotion to making Andy happy, throughout the series. The years of neglect he has suffered by the beginning of TS3 haven't dimmed his outlook or his energy, and he has kept the rest of the toybox excited about the possibility of that ever elusive play time as well.

Jessie the Cowgirl and Lotso Lovin' Bear illustrate this rule as well, in their own ways. Jessie is clearly traumatized from having been given away by Emily in TS2 (sometime in the 70s or late 80s judging by the decor in her flashback), which has clearly given her significant abandonment and trust issues. Lotso, after being replaced by Daisy's parents, became bitter and power-mad after he found out he was no longer going to spend his days being loved and cared for; he focused all his energy on making sure other toys wouldn't fall for the lie of kids loving them forever. The fact that he had to scheme so thoroughly to achieve this goal shows just how deep a toy's devotion to its child goes. Therefore, the rule is proved: A toy wants nothing more than to make its owner happy and to be played with.

The second rule that we have is a little harder to prove, but I'm no less confident of its veracity: A toy's memories begin before they are opened.

Think of Buzz Lightyear. Not only do we know that he is a 'new toy' in TS1, we know for sure that Andy is his original owner; there would have been no play time or make-believe sessions (such as those that informed Mr. Prickly Pants' behavior in TS3) to have made him think he was a Space Ranger. That belief was given to him at the factory, and it is part of his programming. He knows who he is, has memories of the Academy, and can quote chapter and verse of Star Command Galactic Code.

Also from TS2, we see more and more evidence that toys are only 'awoken' when their packaging is bothered. 'Buzz Lightyear: With New Utility Belt!' was silently staring ahead until Classic Buzz broke into the packaging to steal the belt. Towards the end of the movie, Buzz accidentally causes an Emperor Zurg figure's box to fall from a tall pile of toys, where it is smashed by an automatic door. Awoken, he rises to seek his vengeance.

(An aside: It seems toys from the Lightyear universe are missing the component that lets them realize they are toys. They seem to awake believing the stories from the side of the box. Fascinating.)

If you're with me so far on the Laws of Toys (Toys Love Their Children Unconditionally, Toys Are Awoken When Their Packaging is Disturbed) then I invite you to revisit the original question with me:

What's with Woody?

If ever a toy has demonstrated his devotion to his child, it is Woody with Andy. He is obsessed with Andy; he puts his and the other toy's lives on the line regularly for a little play time and attention. No matter how much abuse or neglect they are subjected to, he is always eager for more because that's his role in life.

And that devotion was put to the test when, in TS2, we saw him tempted to join his long-lost toy family in a Japanese toy museum. Jessie, Bulls-Eye, and Stinky Pete fight for nearly the entire movie to convince Woody to join them. After all, they say, the museum isn't interested in a partial collection of the Woody's Roundup Gang. Separate, they are nothing; it's Woody's presence that makes them worthy of display.

And yet...this is all news to Woody. Not just the fact that he was part of a play set, but the fact that he was valuable at all. After all, he was being played with by Andy; Big Al treated him like a priceless artifact. Andy ripped his arm off while playing with him; Big Al spent absurd amounts of money for a late night house call from a creepy toy-repair specialist to sew it back on.

Wouldn't Andy's mom have wanted her son to treat such a valuable toy with care? Maybe keep it boxed up to sell as part of a college fund? Of course not. She simply wasn't aware of his value. As she says to Al when he tries to buy Woody from her in TS2, 'It's an old family toy.' Meaning he wasn't new, in box, when Andy received him.

And that's the bombshell: Andy is not Woody's original owner. Either he was handed down from an older relative, or he was purchased secondhand and given to Andy.

From here there are two logical conclusions we can draw. Either Woody's past was so dark, so terrible that he has stricken his previous owner from his memory and has devoted himself wholly to Andy's happiness as thanks for saving him; or Woody is simply not as loyal as he appears.

Neither answer makes for a particularly wholesome kids movie. Both lead to different, darker stories than those marketed to us. Critics have always said that Pixar seemed willing to go in darker and darker directions with their movies...perhaps Toy Story 4 will answer these uncomfortable questions.

***This message has been brought to you by the thirtieth viewing of Toy Story 2 within a month's time.

Oliver Sings the Classics

Oliver falls asleep to us singing him songs. There are a few classics like 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,' and 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat,' but for the most part he prefers it when we make up songs right out of thin air. I'm guessing he just wants us to keep up our improv skills.

What will happen is, we will be halfway through a standard song, and he will spike up in bed, open his eyes, and say something like:

'Baby song!'

'Read a book song!'

'Fast slide song!'

'Mommy song!'

And our current favorite, based on a shockingly impacting episode of the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, 'Minnie bouncy ball throw it on the moon song!'

Most of these songs are exactly what you would expect them to be. We assign a random, shifting melody to a stream-of-consciousness set of lyrics. 'Oh, we read a book and it was great! Oliver liked it a lot but then we had to go to bed, and maybe we can read it later when we wake up,' etc, etc, ad infinitum.

There are maybe two or three songs that have consistent lyrics. The 'Nana Papa Song' is set to 'If You're Happy and You Know It,' and is about how they're the best because they love their crazy Oliver.

Or there's the Mommy song. Also referred to as the Daddy song, or the Baby song, it is set to the tune of 'Frere Jacques,' and goes like this:

"I love Mommy / I love Daddy / Spyro too / Spyro too / And my baby brother / And my baby brother / Yes I do / Yes I do"

Pretty basic stuff, but nothing memorable. Right?

Right?

Then last night while we were winding down for the night, Oliver busts forth with this little gem for his little brother:



Rock. And. Roll.

Kicking It At the Palace of Civic Justice

Jury duty comes like an illness: it is acknowledged shortly before the event itself, forgotten for days while you busy yourself with other matters, and then suddenly makes itself known and unavoidable when most inconvenient. Unlike an illness, though, you need a court order to get out of it.

For myself, I was notified three weeks before my report date. It was through the grace of Amanda that I even remembered to send in my 'Yes, I would love to serve!' postcard that prevents me from going to jail. I promptly forgot about the entire affair; whenever Amanda reminded me to tell our HR department at work that I had jury duty, I would enthusiastically agree. 'Got it!' I would say, as the task I was agreeing to flowed smoothly back out of my brain.

So it was that, Monday morning on my way to the courthouse, I called my supervisor and let them know I had jury duty. 'Worst case scenario, I don't make it in until lunch. I'll let you know.' I sign in at the courthouse and have a seat in the jury waiting room.

A clerk enters. 'Since we are only selecting for Grand Jury today, we will only need fourteen of you.' Awesome. My odds of serving are 14 : 100. As I mentally try to take that down to its lowest common denominator, those of us who were still qualified to serve (A whole mess of people disqualified themselves after finding out you can't have been convicted of basically anything in the last fifteen years) march into a courtroom.

I am still waiting to see a Perry Mason style courtroom in real life. No wide aisle down the middle gallery, nor olde-timey wooden gates and banisters separating the legal teams from the viewing audience. No separate witness stand behind which weeping widows can confess to plotting against their husbands. The style and size of the courtroom is way off from what I expected, and I get the feeling the other jurors are thinking the same thing.

Upon being seated, a circuit judge enters the room and gives us a quick rundown of constitutional democracy. I don't begrudge her this because, 1. It is actually relevant to why we are there, and 2. This lady probably doesn't talk to a lot of non-lawyers in her daily activities, and she should feel free to show off the knowledge that earned her those black robes.

We are told that grand juries serve for two weeks, and there will be two juries of seven citizens selected. One will serve Monday, Wednesday, Friday. The other will serve Tuesdays and Thursdays. Unlike a normal jury, we will not be observing trials and handing down verdicts. Instead, we will view about a dozen cases each day that the District Attorney's office is hoping to prosecute. We are presented with evidence, witnesses and victims testify to us, and we choose whether to indict an individual based on the evidence, which will then allow the case to move to trial.  Think of it as proof-reading the case before it goes to trial, and you're halfway there.

I don't know why the judge chose me for the Monday/Wednesday/Friday crew, but it probably had something to do with my height. I sat straight and tall in my pew (?), and was seated in between two tiny old ladies who were both busy clutching their bags and looking down.

Show me to be attentive.

I can't discuss the cases outside the courtroom, but after two days of hearing cases I can safely say one thing: Salem, you've gotta kick the meth. It's getting a little embarassing.

Five days left, and keeping my fingers crossed that I don't hear any child abuse cases. Already had to send a few domestic violence and attempted murder cases to trial, but this is a job that I definitely don't want to take home with me.

My Barely-Informed Economic Opinion

I spent a little time this morning reading what is apparently a fairly controversial blog posting from Chicago law professor Todd Henderson. I couldn't do this on his main blog page because the firestorm of negative, personal attacks on his family and livelihood from certain readers has caused him to permanently quit blogging.

Todd Henderson, good luck to you and your family, and I'm sorry that your blog-post put the lie to the idea of Liberals being more reasonable and civil.

Since I couldn't read it on Mr. Henderson's page, I followed a link from the Huffington Post to its reposting on the blog of UC, Berkely economics professor Brad DeLong. Mr DeLong has, in addition to posting the original blog in its entirety, has been good enough to provide a safe haven for the comments Mr. Henderson was compelled to leave in response to people attacking his character.

If you haven't clicked on either of those links, go ahead and do that now. I'll wait until you're done.

Finished? Good.

I agree with Mr. Henderson, almost entirely. He is not saying that he should be pitied, nor is he implying that he will be worse off than the poor due to a tax-hike. What he is saying, reasonably, is that he and those of his particular bracket should not be the scape-goat for what is wrong with the American economic system.

This is where it gets tricky for me. As a left-leaning, registered Independent, I generally support our President's policies and ideas. I believe in a robust government that helps those who can't help themselves, and I believe that a few bad apples skating by on the system is a small price to pay to provide assistance to families who can't make it no matter how hard they try.

I supported extending unemployment benefits for those who have exhausted their 99 weeks of benefits, and I support an extension of all the Bush-era tax cuts, at least temporarily. We can re-assess after another two years when, optimistically, our economy will be in a recovery in practice as well as in economical theory.

I guess the whole point of this post is to say:

I'm tired of the hypocrisy that many, many Republican congressmen, pundits, and voters displayed when they said we couldn't afford to extend those unemployment benefits that cost so much less than these tax-cuts, but are practicing all sorts of Newspeak to justify extending these tax-cuts.

I'm surprised and equally disappointed with our President for saying that we have to extend those unemployment benefits by adding to our deficit, but deciding that the line must be drawn in the sand when it comes to paying for tax cuts that will affect our economic recovery in a very real way.

I remember reading an analogy during the unemployment extension argument by an economics professor. If I knew who it was, or when they said it, I would quote it. But I don't, so I'll just finish up this post by paraphrasing him.

"When your house is on fire, and water is the only thing that will put it out, you don't yell at the fireman for getting your couch wet."

For those of you not paying attention, our economy is the blazing house, a short-term deficit is the water, and our couch is...well...our pure ideals about progressive taxes and low government spending, I guess. They're going to get a little soggy and we may have to get new ideologies once this fire is out. Maybe there will be a sale.

For now, though: Unemployment is, arguably, a worse problem than government spending. Let's wait until unemployment is back to reasonable levels before we throw down on the 'let's stop spending,' argument. Okay elected officials?

Please?

New Phone!

This is a test post that I'm writing on my phone.

I received a free phone at work for being awesome, and one of the things it has (which my old, touch screen only phone didn't) is a full physical keyboard. I'm so used to the touchscreen by now that I use it still for browsing the web and texting, but I thought having a full keyboard would make blog-length typing a bit easier. So, I downloaded a blogging application, and here I go!

Testing, one, two? Test, test?

Critical Thinking: A selection from an essay I wrote for my Russian History class.

It’s a question that I’ve tried to discuss with my friends a number of times: What would you do if your country was invaded?

The question is purely academic. As an American living in the twenty-first century, I’ve never had the opportunity (and never will, God willing) to answer that question based on experience. Neither have many Americans; the entire twentieth century was an exercise in empire building and intervention where we have been the invading force, but never once were we forced to expel invaders from our own country. As I ask my friends, time and time again, What would happen if a foreign country invaded and threatened not only our livelihood, but our lives? Our family’s lives, our neighbor’s lives?

It’s a popular question, when taken in a Hollywood context. Chuck Norris in, ‘Invasion,’ and Patrick Swayze in, ‘Red Dawn,’ show us what it means to be an American fighting back against invaders, and show that it’s a common enough question to be a reliable box-office smash. Outside of Hollywood, however, the question is difficult to answer: What if a war was brought to our shores and inaction meant death?

The answers--sitting around a table at a restaurant, or lounging on a sofa in my living room, or standing around a parking lot after a movie—are predictable. ‘I’d fight back, no question.’ ‘I’d take my family and go into hiding.’ ‘I’d grab my Dad’s shotgun and my Uncle’s truck and have a blast!’

I may as well be asking what they would do in case of a zombie apocalypse.

The humor and bombast are only to be expected given the context of the question. It can only be hypothetical; no nation exists (again, God willing) that would challenge the U.S. with a full invasion.

But let’s change our position. Let’s say we’re a small European nation. Not a century ago, not a lifetime ago, but barely a generation past. Sixty years ago. We’ve been through some rough patches over the last twenty years, with a change in government, a Civil War, and we haven’t been sure of the name of our country for the last few decades, but at least we have our home, our land, and our family.

Then the Germans invade.

At first, we take it in stride: This is nothing new to us. After all, we’ve been Russians, then Ukrainians, then Russian again on and off for the last thirty years, so now that we are Germans, maybe Stalin will stay off our backs for a little while. Russian, German, or Ukrainian, just let us keep our land and we’ll salute whatever you ask us to.

Then we realize that this is not like the other times. This is not an invading force that wishes us to be its new tax-paying subjects; the Germans want our land, and they want us gone. We hear rumors of the last village they went through, stealing from and destroying their homes, raping and killing the villagers all to give them their Lebensraum, their living room. Their living room, (such a presumptive, disgusting phrase) which is filled with Ukrainians and Russians, Slavs and Romani, and which they have no intention of sharing. According to the survivors from the last village, they kill those that resist and they kill those that surrender.

The context has changed and the stakes have climbed. Now, the question: What would you do?