The Misconception of the Birth Control Debate

Posted on July 3, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

As one of the central characters in the 1939 classic, “Wizard of Oz”, Frank Morgan played a jovial, somewhat flamboyant character. He stood behind a curtain of a grand hall in OZ and manipulated people into thinking he was an all-knowing fire breathing wizard. He was not, it was all show. It seems nightly when I watch the evening news, I keep asking myself, who is behind the political curtain today trying to fool me?

Week after week, I see poisonous political debate, privacy rights being chipped away, and phony social outrage as the press provides the fait accompli to all these stories. I may not have a Harvard degree, but I can tell when I’m being told to ignore the man (or men) behind the curtain. This week the Supreme Court was called upon to decide whether the American crafts company Hobby Lobby had proper standing under the Constitutional clause of religious freedom. At the heart of the debate was birth control. Of the twenty known birth control drugs approved by the federal government, Hobby Lobby offered sixteen willingly to their employees. What the media won’t tell you is the four drugs the company refused to offer, terminated fertile eggs. Under their Constitutionally protected rights, they wanted no part in devaluing conception and the Supreme Court agreed.

However if you believed most of the news reports this week, Hobby Lobby practiced gender bigotry by consistently playing whack-a-mole with every female employees ovaries. Numerous politicians and news reports claimed Hobby Lobby refused to offer ANY birth control at all. This is false! Again I ask, who is behind this curtain?

As a former broadcast journalist myself, I am stunned by the lack of basic knowledge most Americans have on issues which greatly impact our nation. This week Americans have been presented with an illegal immigration border crisis, a shrinking economy the worst in five years, as well as an ever growing IRS and veterans care scandal.

Yet as I opened up my computer today to my MSN news home page, you know what was the pertinent news worthy item spotlighted? It was a headline that read, “Kim Kardashian goes braless.” Really?

I doubt you’ll never see this question on Trivial Pursuit; but what does the US Constitution, Hobby Lobby, and Kim Kardashian now have in common? Sadly none of them seem to be having much support this week.

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What’s Wrong with You?

Posted on July 1, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

There is no doubt when I was a young child, I created some hair-pulling grief for my Mother. If I were to ask her today which incidents made her exclaim in utter frustration, “What’s wrong with you?” I am sure she could lay out a litany of events. She could easily recount the time when at the age of two, my brother and I smeared each other from head to toe in white cod liver oil diaper cream. That was always a favorite family “recollection”. The time I inadvertently melted my plastic Halloween pumpkin on the light of my bedside wall lamp; I thought the colors made the room look cool. Or the time when I was six, my sister locked me out of the house. With a cape (beach towel) around my shoulders I ran and promptly placed my fist through the storm door glass to unlock it. I received nary a scratch. However my grandfather was none to happy. These incidents would always prompt the same pronouncement from my Mother, “What’s Wrong With You?”

One of the most unusual weapons of choice my mother used but once for corrective discipline was a Cat-o’-Nine tail. I’m sure you’re all familiar with this long stemmed reed that grows near and in water. On the end of the cattail sits a brown bulbous head that looks like a large hotdog. When the end of this tail with little inertia comes in contact with your own tail, you bellow like an alley cat, thus the name.

My mother used to decorate these majestic thrushes by placing them in unique receptacles; an empty crock, clay pot or empty artillery shell casing. It was only appropriate with the latter since with the reed in her hand, she got more “bang for the butt”. In order to keep the ends from drying out, falling apart, and releasing all it’s contents, my mother would craftily spray the ends with hair spray. Tada, she was the Pinterest Queen long before it was even a known entity.

The hairspray worked fabulously until one day, I had helped her reach that level of, “What’s wrong with you” mantra. I don’t remember the cause of her anger, I just remember I had to assume the position of contrition. As she went into motion with the cattail and it met my tail, the unexpected happened. It exploded! in the blink of an eye, instantly it looked like a parade for a returning war hero. The hotdog end with all it’s pollen, filled the room with what looked like hundreds of little white confetti paratroopers. It was the first and only time I had ever laughed out loud while being disciplined. As I think back on it, I think she laughed with me.

I concur with the words of Mark Twain, who referring to his own mother reflected, “My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.”

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My Facebook Path to Discovery

Posted on June 26, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I suppose at the age of 52 if I don’t know what I want to be in life, I might as well give it up. I don’t understand why, or better yet why the proliferation of self evaluation tests on Facebook now? I suppose the NSA doesn’t know enough about us, so lets let them in on our deeply held secrets. I think some social media geek at 3 in the morning must have opined, “My life stinks, so let’s make some random questionnaires so everyone can feel miserable with me in my unfulfilled dreams.”

So from the devil’s playground of idleness, Facebook’s self evaluation tests were born. If you weren’t depressed before, now you can spend the remainder of your day feeling lower than a frog belly. As you take these evaluations, you’ll learn you were born either too early or too late. You’ll discover if you were a cartoon character which one would you be. If you were a ocean creature who would you favor. You’ll discover you chose the wrong vocation and you’ll finally learn the hard way that you really do have the personality of a centipede on Ritalin. And regrets? These tests bring back memories you thought lay long dormant.

I graduated 34 years ago from high school. Can I safely say after 30 years of marriage that I’ve finally stopped kicking myself for being too shy and not asking the pretty brunette in high school algebra out on a date? My wife hopes so! At least I have the comfort of seeing that former love interest’s picture on Facebook. I’m not saying she’s changed but and she could easily beat me in arm wrestling today.

So now out of sheer boredom, I’m cajoled into taking a myriad amount of tests and quizzes by my friends to find out who I really am. I’ve learned so far this week that I act 35, I should have been born 40 years earlier in Texas, and I’m a benevolent nerd who likes the simple life. Does anyone else salivate at the thought of a log cabin in the mountains next to a bubbling brook?

I’m reminded of a young family who had gathered at church for a special occasion. Two of younger children were going to be dedicated into the service of the Lord. The older five year old brother Tommy watched the proceedings with keen interest. When the time came for the Pastor to call his family to the front of the church, he followed his mother and father and little baby brother to the front. The Pastor prayed a prayer of dedication on the littlest child and family and the church joined into hearty Amen’s and the dedication was over. However the family watched the older sibling and knew something had profoundly changed him. He was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the remaining part of the service and even in the car stared silently out the window on the return home. Finally within moments of arriving home, the mother said, “Tommy, why are you so quiet”?

The child started to cry and blurted out, “during the dedication the Pastor said my little brother and I were going to live in Christian home, but we want to stay with you.”

I don’t need a Facebook test for self discovery, I’ll forgo my lost dreams and missed opportunities and admit plainly that I’m a Christian. That’s a label I’ll never regret.

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Unmasking an Underwear Conspiracy

Posted on June 23, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I hope I can make this brief (pun intended). Why is our nation fixated on underwear? If you aren’t wearing Victoria Secret brand, you’re not sexy, if you’re not wearing Fruit of the Loom, you’re not an average Joe. I despise the trend of messages now emblazoned on the cabooses of countless briefs. The words range from cute to obscene telling me what manufacturers think I need to know. This makes no sense. Think about it, when was the last time you sat around with your friends and said, “I can’t wait till Edna gets here so we can read the seat of her pants and know the mood she’s in.” I hope the only message I ever see on a friends delicates is “machine washable” and that’s only if I’m doing their laundry. Besides at my age why risk a yoga move to read the back of your own underwear? I have enough trouble bending down and putting on sneakers? I wheeze like an asthmatic aardvark when I do. Sure I get the cereal box messages on the back cover when you have nothing else to read at the breakfast table, but underwear? Wouldn’t the hidden message be like flying an airplane dragging a banner behind it after sunset. What’s the point if no one can see it?

But no, this conspiracy goes deeper. Have you noticed little boys underwear lately? Why does every pair have to have a violent superhero or villain emblazoned on it? Are we trying to coerce little boys that behind every pair of cotton briefs, testosterone must run amuck? Why stop at the age of nine with Underoos? Make them for adult men and women. I know when I leave my driveway and brave the insipid traffic, I arrive at my doctors office frazzled. Even my own typical tighty whitey’s don’t reflect my completed Herculean task. I do feel like a superhero if I succeed.

But consider little girls underwear; princesses, fairy tales etc. Nothing like preparing them for real life where every frog can be transformed into a prince and one always lives happily ever after. We all know how common this occurs. I think the ills of society CAN be traced back to underwear manufacturers. They offer false expectations and promise if you wear their brand, you’ll look like a sculpted sex symbol. But we all know the real truth to this indoctrination; you also have to be wearing the right cologne, toothpaste and hair gel.

While waiting for my son at a department store not long ago, we glanced up at the wall and a shudder went through us both. Touting the wispiest woman’s briefs you could ever imagine, the store was advertising that same pair in the size of 6X. Would something this minute really look good on someone who has an enhanced circumference? (Politically correct term now for plus size people) I won’t elaborate on my feelings, but I cant help think that somewhere a lone Volkswagen Beetle is missing a drivers window sunshade.

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