The Super Bowl of Circuses
11:00 PM Feb 29, 2008
Today is just another day in a long line of days when I feel so disconnected from many of my fellow humans in America. Today, millions of our brothers and sisters are riveted to TV screens to watch the ultimate of American Empire diversions: the Super Bowl. Who will win this profoundly important event? Will any breasts be exposed during the half-time show? Which of the multi-million dollar commercials will be the funniest? So much talent, resources and energy are expended for one day out of the year that it makes me wonder when Congress will just make “Super Bowl Sunday” a National Holiday and give lucky Americans with jobs that don’t involve saying, “Would you like that super-sized?” the following day off.

Believe me, it is not my intent to demean or belittle anyone who actually cares about the Super Bowl or other circuses that are provided for our entertainment-distraction, such as: The Rose Parade, the INDY 500, the World Series, American Idol, and/or the search for any adult who is actually smarter than a 5th grader (which won’t be too hard soon after years of No Child Left Behind). I wish with all my heart that I could actually get worked up about men running around dressed like Trick-or-Treaters who make obscene amounts of money---but I just cannot. Caring for such things that I feel are trivial ended for me on April 04, 2004 when I learned that my oldest son, Casey, was killed in Iraq.

I actually used to care about things outside of politics, peace, and accountability. I used to have a cadre of friends that I would mundanely go off with for a day of shopping, or meet for Sunday brunch. I used to know the name of the Dodger’s manager and the batting averages of the team and the ERA’s of the pitchers. I was never into Survivor, but rooted for Evan to pick Zorah on The Bachelor and I would tune in every so often to catch up on the antics of Paris and Nicole as they cut a swath of spoiled destruction through America’s heartland. Casey and I would try and see as many theatrical movies as we could whenever he came home on leave. Between my career as a Catholic Youth Minister, my friends and especially my family, my life was very good.

I know many good people who have some balance in their lives and they do care about politics, peace, accountability and sporting events, and I wish I could be like them. I wish I could watch men butting heads on a football field and not think about bombs going off in market places in Iraq, or our Air Force dropping bombs on market places in Iraq. Even though I feel so terribly bad for Heath Ledger’s family, I would like Corporate-Media American news to focus a similar amount of attention on the families of our returning troops who have met a similar end due to PTSD and the lies of Corporate-Political America. I wish Congress would investigate a lying and cheating BushCo the way they go after performance enhancing athletes. I wish I could feel hope in any of the Corporate Candidates and I wish I could believe in the fairy tale that a war-mongering Democrat is better than a war-mongering Republican.

I cannot, because the first time I felt such a deep disconnect was from my neighbors in the early morning of April 5, 2004. We had been given the awful news about Casey just nine hours before. Our tiny Vacaville house was filled with friends and relatives in varying stages of sleep-shock. I had not slept a wink all night, and I wandered out to my front porch to sit on the porch swing that my (now) only son, Andy, had given me for my birthday some months before. As the sun rose on the beautiful April morning, I could see my neighbors leaving for work, or just going out wearing their nightgowns to retrieve their daily paper. They all looked so normal, and I knew that I would never again be “normal” the way I was before. I wanted to scream at them: “Why are you going to work and why are your eyes not swollen and red and why is your heart not broken in pieces? My son is dead, damnit!” Why does the sun continue to rise when my son is dead and buried?

I still find pleasure in spending time with family and friends and I especially feel hope (but even more resolve to make the world better) when my unborn grandson, Jonah, kicks my hand when it is placed tenderly on my pregnant daughter's stomach. I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade or throw elephant dung on anyone’s circus. I just would like for we Americans to put things into proper perspective.

Our nation's economy is like an oil tanker that hit the bridge and we are all covered with sludge. Our ship of state is not at all sound and millions of dollars are spent for a day of sport?…but when we get that loaf of bread from our masters the American Imperialists in the form of a tax rebate, we are supposed to feel grateful and pacified. Let’s not forget that the rebate is just a piece of paper with empty words and backed by a dollar that is on life support with the infusion of loans from China and we need to reject the “Chicken in Every Pot” and “Let them eat cake” ruling class mentality. Let’s remember that the bipartisan establishment class are the ones that got us into this ungodly mess by their obedience and allegiance to the military industrial complex and their lust for wars so companies like Exxon/Mobil can enjoy lavish profits while many of us are losing our homes and jobs and are forced to choose between food or gas.

Many of us are one paycheck away from the streets and a few hundred dollars will make a big difference, but how long can BushCo and Congress, Inc support two unending occupations and the already fat and bloated Wall Street bankers while cutting services in our communities?

How long can the ruling establishment class pull the wool over our eyes with bread and circuses when the bread is being made from our own flesh and blood and the circuses are being performed to divert our eyes from all the heartache and worry that their actions cause?

As long as we the people let them.

A supporter of mine has written to both me, and my opponent, House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi, that he will be donating his entire tax rebate to my campaign. To really make a difference, please consider donating all, or part, of your rebate to Cindy for Congress.