Man of the Year

I am on top of the world.

My people tell me women want me and men want to be me.

I am the son of of a white American mother and a black Kenyan father.

My father worked for the government of Kenya, but wrote often while I was growing up.

I went to all the best schools in Hawaii, while spending a little time helping the poor in Indonesia.

My father wasn't around so I was basically raised by my grandparents.

I am good looking.

My father worked for the government of Kenya, but wrote often while I was growing up.

I graduated from Columbia University in 1983.

My wife, Michelle and I were married that same year.

I have two children - Malia and Sasha - of whom I am very proud.

My career began as a social activist.

I was editor of the law review at my school, Harvard.

My middle name is Hussein.

I graduated and became a lawyer at age 31.

My favorite color is blue.

I am extremely attractive.

My book "Dreams from my Father: A story of Race and Inheritance" tells you slightly more about my background.

I won a Grammy in 2006 for "the spoken word" category.

My career lately has really taken off, but I haven't done anything that you know about.

I am a very public figure.

My career in elected office began in 1997 when I was elected to the Illinois State Senate.

I lost in a race for U.S. Congress in 2004.

My chief rival's name these days is Clinton; she won her Grammy in 1997.

I am adored by the media, maybe more so than my rival's husband.

My signature outfit is a suit with no tie - so I'm approachable.

I represent the people of Illinois, but have been spending time lately in NH, SC and IA.

My new book out this year is called "The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream".

I will probably win a Grammy for reading that in 2008.

My ambition seems to indicate that would not be the highlight of the year for me.

I am still virtually unknown.

My friends think I should run for President.

I think I already am.

My hope is that you will want to vote for me not for what I have done, but what I might do.

I feel having a track record can only get in the way.

My name means "blessed by God" in Arabic.

I want to be President.


Only two questions left to answer and maybe you'll let me by on the first and just answer the second: Who am I? Will you vote for me?



I am Barack Hussein Obama, Jr. and I'm running for President.

Not Organic

I like peanut butter - a lot. If I could, I'd eat more of it. The problem is, that eating too much of this after your 9th birthday causes a disproportionate increase in the wet spot left after sitting on the side of the pool (if I'm not being too subtle.) I'm not a doctor, nor have I played one on TV, but I believe the technical term for it is glutius expansionus maxiumus.

Around our house, we're trying to eat healthier. Actually, we're trying to be deliberate about everything - making better choices across the board. The two main areas of focus (that I'm talking about) are our finances and our eating habits (and what we feed our kids). The finances thing has been a good exercise - we're living on a budget, trying to be thoughtful about every dollar and giving each dollar a name. This means that even money for incidentals - getting a drink at a convenience store, lunch with a friend, etc. is factored into the budget. It's difficult, but has been worthwhile.

In the past few months, we've been trying to do a better job making choices about what to feed our family. One of the things we've been experimenting with is baking our own bread. By "we" I mean "I" have been doing this. Yes, I bake. I also love power tools and make sawdust more than most guys, so on the masculinity Richter scale, I feel I'm still ensconced on the "manly man" end of the scale.

Why? It's better for the family and it tastes better. We haven't shaved our heads, drunk the kool-aid and joined the cult to the point that we're grinding our own flour (I think that's got to be a cult), but we might get there someday. Bread is one thing, but the thing we're really trying to remove from the pantry is partially hydrogenated vegetable oil. If you want to learn more about why this is evil from someone more "scientific" than me, check this out: http://www.recoverymedicine.com/hydrogenated_oils.htm

Here is my summary of what the science nerds are saying: partially hydrogenated vegetable oil is the sole commercial result of the combined work ever expended by the evil geniuses in the known universe. It takes something that should be liquid at room temperature and makes it a solid. Also, it makes something that should spoil last for years and years on your shelf. These two things come at a high price, causing all kinds of health problems - including increasing the likelihood of coronary heart disease - to the point that many European countries are considering setting a date for it's removal from food production. Those Euros! They're on the cutting edge of thinking about doing something dramatic!

One of my many, many, many, many oddities is that I was born with an overdeveloped sense of cheapness. As best as I can tell, this isn't a result of any cultural or ethnic background because as far as I can tell, I'm a WASP mutt. However, my cheapness was acquired honestly and like all things, at a price, but probably discounted.

This was most evident in my Granddaddy who used to stop, U-turn or slow down in the middle of busy streets or 6-lane interstates to pickup discarded shirts, hats, balls, flashlights, and who knows what all else. When we were visiting it was always exciting when he would come in the house saying "look what I found on my way to Fort Worth!"

My Granddaddy often had business in Fort Worth (maybe just when the grandkids were visiting) but I suspect just as often he did not. He'd drive 60 or 70 miles round trip - easy - because he heard someone had gas for $0.03 cents cheaper. If anyone dared mention that with the gas you'd burn to get there, plus the added time, that he probably wasn't breaking even, but that didn't matter. It was cheaper - that was the point.

My Grandparents lived across a busy street from a golf course. My Grandaddy was not a golfer and to the best of my recollection had little understanding of anything other than the basics - a huge expanse of wasted real-estate where people dress goofy and attempt to knock a little ball in a hole. Due to their abundance, they were a favorite target to find on the street and later sell in garage sales in egg containers by the dozen. The easy pickin's were in the yard. The greater challenges came as I said from the street. We'd be on the way to the cafeteria and if there was a golf ball on the other side of their 6-lane divided street, my Grandaddy would spot it, thread across the other two lanes and make a U-turn half a mile down only to come back to swoop down and make the grab. Where the heck are we going, isn't the cafeteria that way? Just a quick stop, I saw a golf ball. Oh.

My new found desire for healthy eating sometimes goes against my genetic predisposition for cheapness. We were at THE Wal-Mart the other day for a grocery trip and needed some eggs. They had their biggest display reserved for the blue, imitation-cardboard containers that were $1.37 ea. In addition there were the same eggs in pink containers labeled XL for more than that. Notice the ingrained cheapness: I don't remember because it was irrelevantly more. Also, they had eggs rich in something called Omega-3, and some cage-free eggs that were $2.97 per dozen! I remember that price due to the outrage of $0.25 per egg! If the unjust incarceration of poultry saved me $1.73 per dozen eggs - then I say "lock 'em up!" We found some others that had that mysterious label "Organic" on them (whatever that means) that were $1.24. The organic ones were cheaper! O bliss! O rapture!! They were tasty too.

In our culture we place a lot of value on labels. Think of value that brands alone have, separate from the products to which they are attached: Nike, Coca-Cola, McDonalds, NFL, Honda, Yahoo!, Verizon, NBC, Google, etc. Beyond product specific brands there are labels that carry enormous weight either because of what they represent or by whom they are endorsed. Just think about how important - and by important I mean "valuable" the Atkins, Weight Watchers, or South Beach diet labels are for food marketers. If Tiger Woods endorses a golf ball, a car or a breakfast cereal - it sells.

Have you seen lately the lady from the Food Network that is suddenly on every conceivable package produced by Nabisco? Rachel Ray has usurped Kelly Ripa for doing more with her 24-hours than any other person in America. She's on all kinds off food packages, has her own talk show, I think she has a magazine, plus she's still on three or four different things on the Food Network. Apparently, she's a good brand, having come on very strong of late. However, I believe the label of all labels is just now emerging and will become more prevalent in the coming years. In marketing terms it'll make Tiger Woods look like that one guy...you know...that had his face on stuff...I forget his name. That label is "organic" and I believe it will become very powerful in the coming years.

We packed up the kids and headed to the other side of town a few weeks ago to the natural foods grocery store. They had a beautiful produce section (I find beauty in strange places) and had a big sign proclaiming over 170 Organic produce items. They had 25# bags of carrots for people who juice them, organic apples, and organic bagged salads. We wandered all over the store and found natural this and whole grain that. They had environmentally friendly trash bags and spear-hunted ground buffalo. Sure it was all fantastically expensive - but it's natural or organic. When I inquired if the prices were somehow mistakenly posted in Canadian dollars, the helpfulish clerk rolled his eyes and pegged me as an outsider.

Being an outsider in a whole foods store is like being a bull in a china shop. Even the other people who are shopping there look at you with derision with your empty basket and your three kids gnawing on dum-dums. They looked at us as if to say "dum-dum? dumb-dumb indeed." Apparently, shoppers at this store are better than us on at least two levels - one is that they eat healthy and protect the environment blah-blah, and secondly that they can afford to shop there. I look at their carts bulging with organic yogurt, $6.00 loaves of bread, wild-harvested deer milk, free range chicken breasts, and seven kinds of tofu and wonder who these people are? No doubt their grandfather came up with the name "Twinkie" for a cream filled mass-produced sugar-bomb like the kid in my fourth grade class, Jimmy Snyder. Some people have more money than sense I suppose. (no offense, Jimmy.)

We were blocking the narrow aisle with our empty cars when an older woman broke through our defenses. She was trying to get to a machine like they have in regular-people grocery stores now where you can grind your own coffee except this lady was grinding her own peanut butter. Grinding her own peanut butter!




This is probably a reasonable alternative to the partially hydrogenated vegetable oil that we are trying to get away from. However, the whole aura exuded by the patrons of the whole foods store was more than I'm willing to put up with. I've decided to direct my muted rage elsewhere and have chosen the Jif Peanut Butter marketing people who came up with the slogan "Choosy Moms choose Jif." I can't fault them for trying to sell their product with it's seven year shelf life, but you're talkin' 'bout my momma. Are they saying that since my Mom went for Peter Pan, Skippy or Acme brand peanut butter, that she's somehow making a lesser choice than choosing Jif? What about the nature nut at snooty foods? Is she somehow making a lesser choice? Did I want to run her over in the parking lot? Naturally. Of all the faults I found with her, I certainly couldn't fault her choosiness. But don't be talkin' 'bout my momma.

Seasons Greetings

Seasons Greetings!

What the heck does that mean? What is this phrase intended to inspire so much so that we put it up in lights? Hey, buddy, Seasons Greetings! And by that I mean, whatever the season, not that I care enough to stick my head out the window and check, I greet you in the name of that season. What's with that?

I say, use this 12 months out of the year! It works! What part of this communicates the message of love and salvation that is embodied in Christmas?

It's 104º outside; I greet you in the name of the unholy heat of August! It's the middle of March and people are either gearing up for Saint Patrick's Day (either the beer-drinking kind or the "we're here, we're queer, let's hijack a parade!" kind) - and so I greet you in the name of that season.

If my Jewish friends said "Happy Hanukkah", I think that would be great! Hanukkah is a beautiful commemoration of the re dedication of the Holy Temple, recaptured by Judah the Maccabee in 164 BC. The Macabees were from the town of Modiin, a priestly family, that founded the Hasmonean dynasty that ruled from the re dedication of the Temple until Roman rule. According to the tradition, the oil used in the Temple re dedication ceremony was only supposed to last for one day, but instead lasted for eight days! The menorah that is part of the celebration of the festival of lights has nine candles. The center candle is the shamash and is used to light the other eight candles each night of the celebration. Hanukkah is a beautiful holiday celebrating the salvation of monotheism and as a Christian, something worthy of our respect.

Further, if a follower of Islam wished me "happy Ramadan" I would take that as a reminder of the devotion of millions of believers in that faith all over the world. Christians - and by "Christians" I mean "I" - could take a page from their faith and devotion. Ramadan is a month long season of fasting, whereby Muslims concentrate on their faith and spend less time on the concerns of their everyday lives. During Ramadan, no eating or drinking is allowed during daylight hours. During the entire month other things are forbidden too. At the end of each day the fast is broken with prayer and a meal called iftar. Following the meal, it is customary for Muslims to go out visiting family and friends. The following morning, the fast resumes.

Now I'm not advocating an "all roads lead to heaven" amalgamated theology, but rather there are some beautiful traditions that from which a casual, suburban Christian could learn and deepen their faith. I know I could.

Once you get into Kwanzaa, veneration of the Easter Bunny, or mother earth as represented by the moon and the stars, then we're into a different story. These things should be a further reminder of how we - and by "we" I mean "me"- as Christians have failed to carry God's message of selfless love to those who feel the God-shaped void in their life. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the right to make up holidays was part of the original Bill of Rights, but was removed due to the constitutional framers desire to be concise, while still covering most bases. Also, they were tired of writing. Can you envision Ben Franklin wagging his hand from a writer's cramp saying, "you know, Tom, I say let's cap this thing at ten - it's a nice, round number and it's good enough as it is. Don't you think?"

I agree. My hand hurts...

Santa Is A Communist

Apologies in advance to Santa fans, believers and apologists, but he's a communist. Just a big, fat card-carrying, goose-stepping commie.

I don't make this charge lightheartedly or without just cause. Allow me to lay out the case:


THE CASE: Kris Kringle = Communist

1. His outfit: anyone who wears that much red would certainly have garnered attention from more casual observers than Joseph McCarthy. Where else can you find this much red? The old hammer and sickle flag of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the flag of China and possibly a campy horror movie. Throw in the big, goose-stepping boots and you have yourself a bona-fide communist suspect. On we go.

2. Worker's paradise: I'm no communist expert, but I believe this is either a goal or a happy by-product of their overall ethos. The worker's paradise is where most of the workers live and work gladly for the greater good of the whole system. Having grown up at the tail end of the Cold War, it seems fitting to me that any misguided attempt at this would be in a cold environment- and the North Pole certainly counts. The elves all dress alike; working non-stop making toys for allegedly good little boys and girls. Is everyone equal in this paradise? No. Big, commie Santa drives production schedules, determining who gets what and probably keeping his big, fat, commie thumb on population control. Ewww...

3. Redistribution of wealth: Santa, as it's commonly known, travels around the world giving toys to the "good" kids and sticks or lumps of coal to the "bad" kids. This is nothing more than a central tenet of communism, whatever there is, spread it around among the peasants. That's his whole cache.

4. Power in the hands of the few: No, I don't accuse Santa of having a People's Congress or even a Politburo, Santa is a one-man power monger. He rules. Got a request? Write a letter beseeching Santa! Want a ride in a sleigh? Talk to Santa! Got a mutant, red-nosed kid who's hard-up for work? Ask Santa for a job. There's no committee, just Santa.

5. Last strikes: In no way do they further my case for Santa the communist, but they paint this rogue in a less-than-idyllic light and thus deserve fair mention as stray bullets in this character-assasination.

• Breaking-and-entering, writ large


• Commonly understood drug use (both Santa and those hopped-up reindeer) - It's commonly assumed, but rarely mentioned that he's a huge consumer of narcotics. How else can he cover the globe in one night? Santa's cousin must be part Columbian (not the coffee kind, either.)


• Overeating - Cookies, cakes, brownies, tacos - all the good stuff and plenty of it are consumed by Santa en masse on his annual hellacious trek of drug-binged continent-hopping.


• No regulatory oversight - When the elves have a beef about working conditions? To whom do they turn? Got a complaint about a deffecitve toy? You're up a creek. There is no other authority to whom you can turn! What other industry is so unincumbered?

Capitalist?
Many people confuse Santa with capitalism due to his popularity in the United States. This is simply not true. The fact that retailers benefit from his promotion is one of those queer ironies in a country full of them.

Christian?
Others confuse him as being a Christian icon. Gladly, there is no connection between Santa and Christianity except coincidence. I'd like to tell my neighbor about this as he has a plywood cutout of Santa worshipping a baby Jesus in a manger. Tacky aside, this is seriously askew. Santa represents everything that's wrong with Christmas, and maybe even the human heart's desire for more stuff.

My Story?
When I was told by my alleged parents that Santa did not exist, it took me several months to begin to trust them again. Were there secret passageways in our house? (For some reason, I believed the pinnacle of deception was "secret passageways" making it easier to get around in my world.) If there's no Santa, and there are secret passageways, what else are they not telling me? Who knows?

Then again, there's so much dis-information about Santa, who can say what he is? Anyway, I gotta go. Rudolph is on!!

***********

Edit: December 19th

After writing this, I tried to find my own blog by searching for "Santa is a communist". I was disheartened to find that there are literally thousands of other posts, comments, etc. pointing to the fact that Santa is a communist. Here I thought that this was an original thought. That's what I get for thinking. I guess the cops are right: the only thing that seperates us one from another is our fingerprints.