Republican No More

They advocated and fought to free the slaves. They worked to preserve America's wilderness by protecting National Parks. They warned us about cozying up to corporations and the military. They used to be the Republican Party.

Used to be.

I’m working to initiate a lawsuit to force them to change their name as they no longer resemble that political organization. To say they are the party of Lincoln, or Teddy or Ike is delusional as they abandoned those leaders’ ideals and principles decades ago.

The downfall of the Grand Old Party began with Nixon's Southern strategy which attracted the Dixicrats and others who hated President Johnson’s civil rights expansion.  The metamorphosis of the party continues with the Trump dismantling of the few vestiges of the old party that remained.  

In the old days the Eisenhower administration said this:

“We are proud of and shall continue our far-reaching and sound advances in matters of basic human needs — expansion of social security — broadened coverage in unemployment insurance — improved housing — and better health protection for all our people. We are determined that our government remain warmly responsive to the urgent social and economic problems of our people. We shall continue to seek extension and perfection of a sound social security system.”

Ike also advocated for equal pay for equal work, regardless of gender; supported a mandated minimum wage rate; supported ending discrimination in employment based on race; supported an expansion of social security and other progressive ideals.  Today’s party cringes when they hear anything close to that, and in fact, often opposes those ideas.

Today’s Republican party has moved so far from the progressive ideals they embraced in the old days that even the moderates flee the party.

Nowadays the party advocates for the rich and for corporations, but tries to appeal to working class people by stating they are working for those people interests, even though they most assuredly are not.

So I propose they have to change their name.  Some possible choices:

• Corporatic party
• Trumptonian Party
• Antipeoplish Party
• Wealthnbiz Party
• Screwpoorlian Party

By changing their name it will protect the rich history of the Pre-Nixon Republicans and save that heritage from the inglorious pigheadedness of today’s version. I may have a problem finding a lawyer though because I think the bar association may be an adjunct of the new party. Fingers crossed that the judge hasn’t been appointed by Trump.

Ah, James Thurber

 We at The Thurber Brigade apologize for once again getting off the path of the interaction between men and women.  However, with the election looming, we believed it important to stress that if someone supports DJ Trump, that person has strayed from the ideas and ideals of the Republican party and have instead embraced racism, hatred, ignorance and, well, you get it. We at The Brigade promise to get back to The War Between Men and Women real soon. Maybe.

Untold Stories

In the Spielberg movie “Lincoln,” the president often regales visitors with stories to make a point. A funny scene happens when he begins a story and one of his cabinet members runs from the room decrying “oh no, not another one of his blasted stories.”

We all have stories we like to tell from time to time, but often we don't tell all of them. I seldom verbalize  my stories anymore for a number of reasons.

One is that I don't want friends running from the room. Also, I think that nowadays, because of our fascination with the instantaneous and fast media storm we get from modern devices, we no longer have an attention span longer than a minute (or less).

So many great stories are missed by my friends, who might really like them if they heard a few. So a blog is a perfect place to tell them, even if briefly, and then you can either skim them or jump to the witty conclusion.

For example, there's the story from one of my Australian trips when I got picked up by security. I had been hiking along the seaside through some thick brush on a skimpy trail when I came upon a large facility. It had a fence topped by barbed wire and looked like some electric or energy plant, or maybe even a discreet military site. When I got to a more open area, I was confronted by two armed guards. They hadn't drawn their weapons, but did grill me about what I was doing there.

I told them I was just hiking and hadn’t entered the facility. They led me to their Jeep though and after examining my Texas driver's license must have guessed I was just a kooky American and harmless. They drove me back to a road so I could head back to town and admonished me about hiking in dangerous remote areas.

“What would you have done if you fell down one of those cliffs?” One chided. Admittedly, the cliffs I hiked along were pretty steep and high, but hey, that's what adventures are all about.

Another adventure dealt with a female I liked. I discussed this in detail in one of my “near miss” blogs.  Crazy about a waitress in a Sixth Street bar, I made numerous visits to the place hoping for the courage to ask for her number. I finally did gain that courage and got her phone number, but because of weird circumstances lost it on the very same night. Although I attempted to regain it (and my courage) it never came to fruition again.

Some stories aren’t so melancholy, but frustrating.  While in the army (82^nd Airborne) I advocated for an enlisted person union. A pretty radical idea that someone should advocate for enlisted rights/needs in congress rather than some general who might go on to be a lobbyist for a corporation. Anyway, one of the methods the group I worked with used to gain acceptance, was a petition for a union.

One day we tried to gather signatures at a local shopping mall. We were tucked away in a back area (the mall couldn’t deny our request, but could make it less offensive to themselves) and some grisly older guy, who I assumed was a retired master sergeant, came up and began arguing. I became more hostile as I argued back, but I suddenly noticed that my friends had sat back and didn’t respond at all. Since they were more experienced and knowledgeable it surprised me.

Eventually the old guy gave up or lost his energy and left, so I asked them why they didn’t fight back.

“There are just some people you will never get to listen.  No matter the facts, they will never change their minds. There’s  no need to even try.”

That became one of my best lessons over the years and has helped guide me in discussions as well as attempts to meet females.

I have a large number of hiking stories similar to the Australian one above. For example, on visiting Mount St. Helens, I took a hiking trail from an observation point that wended around several hills and included parts of a path that was mere inches wide. At one point, there was a 1,000 foot drop down a rocky slope if you missed a step. I did get a better and closer look at the dormant volcano and so thought it worth the danger.

Jim Croce plays a big part in one or two of my stories as noted in another blog.  The best again deals with hiking. Most of the time that I go hiking I’m alone and in the back country.  Bears do not like to be surprised, and so when you hike in their areas, you should always make a lot of noise. Easier if you hike with friends and can chat about fun times in bars, etc, but more challenging when alone.

So I not only wear a bear bell attached to my belt, but I sing Jim Croce. So far, no bears have complained about my singing, although one time one came close to check out which song I was singing.

Of course, I also have stories in which I will only reveal part of the adventure.  One such happened on my birthday.  I believe it was my big Three Five.  Anyway, we had been out celebrating my birthday, mainly drinking Magnums at The Chili Parlor, and finally heading home.

Unlike many males, I tend to get super cautious when I drink and then drive. However, we were still going highway speed on I-35 in my old Datsun pickup when my friend, Lance, decided to continue being crazy. He opened the window on the passenger side and began to crawl out, headed for the bed of the pickup.  I shouted at him to stop, but he continued on. 

Amazingly he made it, and after screaming and shouting at passing traffic, repeated the dangerous maneuver back into the cab.  That exciting point of the story does not end the wild tale, but it’s the most I’ll relate at this time. The craziest part came later, but that I’ll save until I’m on my death bed. You’ll just have to visit then.

These are just a few of the many stories I have but never talk about (although I sometimes blog them).  I believe everyone has the same situation and have untold treasures just waiting to be described to anyone willing to listen. 

As a writer, I love hearing most of these, and so I often try to elicit them from people while hiking, when I hit bars or while I wait for a bus. 

So if you can stand putting away your cell phone for a few minutes, give it a try yourself sometime. You may hear some really funny or intense tales.  Even if not, at least you have made a connection that will provide a pleasant memory years from now. Maybe that encounter will become one of your stories.

James Thurber told some great stories

The Thurber Brigade's Annual "Story of Christmas"

A bright star shone above the Earth and three wise men followed it to their destination.  They came a long way because of the knowledge they had of the events.   

They came to meet the Pope, probably around 400 C.E. 

“The pagans are enjoying Saturnalia way too much” the wise men told the Pope.  “They’re dancing, singing, giving gifts to friends, burning trees.  It’s woefully unbecoming a modern society and a threat to entice our followers to imbibe in the joyful celebration.”

“You are right,” the Pope agreed.  “We must do something to ensure that we can maintain our control.” 

Pagan Shaman  vs. Pope Headgear 

Therefore, the Pope and his followers came up with a plan.

They began to promote a celebration of Christ (Christ-Mass) during the same time as Saturnalia.  When asked why have a celebration, they explained that it was to celebrate Christ’s birth. 

The pagans were skeptical at first.  “Didn’t you say Christ was born in the spring?  Around March?”  one asked.  “I heard the Pope say he was born in August,” another chimed in helpfully.

The Pope said he had made a mistake, due to the change in the calendar system to the more modern Julian one.  Christ was indeed born in December, the Pope assured everyone.

The pagans still didn’t like it. 

Be sure and watch "Vikings" on The History Channel

“Saturnalia is fun.  We get gifts, we have this cool tree, there’s dancing and singing,” they said.

“You can still do that,” the Pope professed.  “It’s a birthday party after all, isn’t it?”

So the pagans began to celebrate both holidays, but as more and more were convinced to switch over to Christianity, Saturnalia fell out of favor.  However, those pagans who still celebrated their cherished Saturnalia swore they’d take it back.

It took longer than they expected, but slowly and surely, the pagans have regained control of their celebration.  

The pagans made their biggest push in the 1950s and 60s by adding massive parades and celebrations to the winter festival.  They also brought in more symbols from other pagans’ beliefs, such as a rotund, bearded man giving gifts, and instead of burning logs as in the days of yore, they added colorful lights to the trees they dance around. 

Through the 70s and 80s they advocated for more consumerism via bigger and better gifts.  Spellbinding advertisements for big, shiny cars and glittery jewels predominate the airwaves.  “Buy more! It will prove your love,” they proclaim.

So today the pagans have taken back the holiday—but have cleverly decided to keep it under the title “Christmas.” 

The celebration keeps getting expanded too, now beginning on the Friday after Thanksgiving (Pagan Black Friday) and continuing through New Year's.  There are competitions to have the biggest tree and brightest light displays.  Children are taught that the best gifts are the most expensive and the ones hardest to acquire.  In addition, of course, there are large gatherings to sing and perform in celebration of the holiday.

It has been a subtle takeover by the pagans, but they have finally reclaimed what was theirs.  So far, the Pope has not responded.

The Thurber Brigade wishes everyone a Happy Holiday—no matter which one you celebrate!

The Thurber Brigade apologizes for using this rerun once again.  Admit it though, you are already watching a ton of reruns, from "Miracle on 34th Street" to "It's a Wonderful Life" so why not one more?  Besides, The Brigade is busy buying presents and celebrating all the holidays that enjoy drinking and so hasn't had time to come up with some snarky blog about relationships.  We promise that after the New Year (and after all the football games) we'll get back on track.  Until then, enjoy the holidays and your friends. 

The Gift of the Anti-Magi

How could he express his love for Delia with this year's Christmas present? Jimmy Young thought of his wife and what she had said and a light bulb turned on in his mind. They had been through so much together, the early days when they barely had food to eat to the disastrous restaurant incidents. Now that they had made a decent life for themselves, he could afford to give her the gift she'd been dreaming of for some time.

Delia loved her husband and admired his drive to give them a better life. Sure, at times he could be too literal and not see the forest for the trees, or be willing to pause now and then to smell the flowers along his path. However, she knew he loved her deeply and she desired to show her own devotion by giving a precious, endearing gift for Christmas.

So the day arrived and each believed they had found the perfect expression of their love for the other.  Jimmy carried out a very large box festively decorated and it stood nearly equal in size to their modest Christmas tree.  Delia brought out a large blue box with a red ribbon and placed it lovingly at her adoring husband’s feet.

“You go first,” Jimmy said.

So Delia walked up to the large box presented by Jimmy and carefully began to unwrap the gift. After Jimmy suggested she not worry about saving the paper and just “let her rip,” she tore the rest of the wrapping off.  Before her now stood a gleaming Zambolla Dirt Destroyer vacuum cleaner. Delia stood dumbfounded in front of the humongous machine.

“You bought me a vacuum cleaner,” she said unemotionally.

Jimmy beamed. “Yes, just like the one you said you wanted last month. Oh, and look, it has all the special attachments and brushes that everyone dreams about.”

She looked at him in shock.  “This is the absolute worst gift you have ever given me,” she exclaimed.  “How could you give me a household appliance for the holiday?”

“I thought you dreamed about this?” he said, shocked. 

“I wanted it as a tool to use, not as a gift,” She said softly, trying to hide her sadness at the gift.  “Well, open yours.”

Jimmy looked down at the box at his feet, smiled weakly and hid his disappointment at his gift-giving failure.  He opened the box Delia had presented him and discovered a large bottle of cologne lying on top of a fuzzy, wool sweater. “What the hell,” he said, furrowing his brows as he looked down at the gift.

“Yes, it’s the most popular scent, all the kids are raving about it.  Plus, you said you needed something to keep you warm at those football games,” Delia said, her spirit slightly raised at seeing her offering.

Jimmy looked aghast at his wife.  “I was hoping for a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt,” he stammered. “And why would you get me perfume?”

“Um, it’s cologne. I thought you would like having something other than that old aftershave you use.”

“I hate guys who wear fancy, shmansy smells, er, colognes.  Plus, guys who wear sweaters like this are wimpy, metrosexuals who don’t go to football games.”

The married couple glanced at the gifts they had just been given and then blankly at each other.

They had experienced the age-old difference between male and female gift giving. They had discovered that neither of them had a single clue about the other’s dreams or thought process.  Learned that the sexes had not progressed from Eve giving Adam the forbidden fruit. They had once more enlisted for combat in The War Between Men and Women.

Ahhhh, James Thurber

Macho Man

It permeates society from advertising to driving. It causes wars but also discoveries. It leads to conflict but also acts of bravery. Machismo. The scourge and also blessing of all men.

All males feel the need to be macho. Some of us only need to display it occasionally, some view it as a required constant lifestyle. We can't help it, it's partly due to testosterone, partly due to upbringing.

If someone pushes you or calls you a name, your testosterone kicks it up a notch and you respond. When you were a kid and you tripped rounding first base and smashed your nose and you began to cry, your coach would extol you to be a man and get up and keep going.

Oh, I should point out that this only relates to the majority of us guys, not “the other team” (clever Seinfeld reference) since I don't play for them and don’t know their macho status. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Macho is observed in many forms and styles as well as degree.

You see it a lot while out driving. Of course road rage is an obvious and extreme extension, but there are other indicators. For example, I notice it all the time when I attempt to pass someone who's going slow only to discover he's sped up as soon as I make my move. Similar to that, is the driver who wants to get into your lane but wants to do it in front of you, not behind. Even if there is no traffic behind you, the guy will smash the pedal to the metal to get ahead of you.

I admit to my own displays of macho. Although I have no problem merging behind someone in traffic, I’ll be damned if I let a guy in if it looks to me like he's trying to jump in line because he didn't want to wait. Such as when the right lane is obviously closed ahead but instead of getting in the long line to left, this guy speeds ahead and darts into the lane further ahead. Macho.

I display my machoness by wearing clothes that I think are manly, albeit not fashionable. Yeah, you'll find an array of flannel shirts in my closet.

As you might expect, we guys get macho around women. There are the super macho guys who'll get in a fight over a woman (not me) to the guys who will stand around trying to look macho (yeah, that's me with a hand in his pocket while holding a drink, leaning against a wall disinterested in life. Subtle, right?).
   
So there are all sorts of different machismo that you may encounter in us guys. I should point out that I blogged about a similar phenomenon in our aggressive competitiveness, which is a little bit different. No matter the variety though, if it offends you or is something you don't appreciate just ignore the guy or move farther away. However, don't verbally confront him, his machoness may kick into high gear and then who knows?

 Ah, James Thurber (who was macho)

Set Your Soul On Fire

Back in the 80s, AIDS protestors (protesting lack of funding/concern by the government) took to the streets across the country. Police were so afraid they might get the disease—even though the protestors may not have it and ignoring the science that stated you couldn't get it by mere contact—that they wore gloves in case they needed to touch one of the demonstrators.

Obviously, this enraged the protesters even more as it showed how they were treated as less than human. I remember seeing newscasts about these and the image stayed in my subconscious. When I thought about a follow up to my book TAX BREAK, these images came back. My mind played around with it all and finally suggested to me “what if these protestors decided to kick it up a notch?”

So SOULS ON FIRE tells that story. These activists decide to resort to terrorism to make their point. They embrace the Viking belief that it's better to die fighting for your beliefs than whither away in bed. They attack banks to get money to support themselves and attack the police to get revenge.

In a way, it also reflects the mindset of the people in the Warsaw ghetto during WWII. The people knew the Nazis would inevitably kill them, so they might as well fight back to the best of their ability.

 AIDS is a major theme of the book, but a more subtle one, albeit just as important, is PTSD.  I modeled the story a bit like “Soldier's Home” by Ernest Hemingway. An engrossing (and depressing) story about a young man who returns from WWI and is drastically changed from his prewar self.

This doesn't hit you in the face, but you can begin to see it in the character by the flashbacks he experiences. I won't say much more about this as I don't want to spoil it for you (and it's important when you read any book that you discover what the author is saying) but when you read it think about whether anything is odd or if his judgement has changed.

This book also delves more into Austin then the previous book. I'm in love with this city and you get to learn about its politics, environment, well, the nature of the city. Of course, I also had to mention a great musician who graced the city (and one of its great music venues from the day).

A writing point about the book: it's really short. According to one book seller you should be able to read it within three hours. As I wrote it I kept having this weird internal battle that on one hand said go into more detail, but on the other said, well, the kids today have an attention span of five seconds, so keep it short buster. Okay, I admit that even I sometimes skim books these days so I can get to the grist. So it was for me too.

On a personal note, this took me a long time to write.  I began the project in 2008 and slowly worked on completing it over the next 10 years.  I could blame that because a few years before beginning I got hit by a car while biking and my house burned down, but I am not sure those still weighed on my thoughts. 

It might have also stemmed from being depressed about lack of sales for my other books or how difficult it had been to get short stories published (I have quite a few that succeeded).  However, I have a feeling it’s more likely that it’s that I seem to get distracted easily these days.  Oh, is there a football game on right now?  Maybe.

I hope this insight into SOULS ON FIRE intrigued you enough to give it a try.  Think of it as a great distraction you can complete reading on your next long flight.  Or that you believe you’ll be dragged into this action-packed novel because it delves into important social issues. Whatever your reason, I hope you enjoy it and that it does more than entertains you, but also causes you to pause and think.  It sure did that to me as I wrote it.

Ahhh, James Thurber

 A short description of SOULS ON FIRE:

In 1985 AIDS activists slaughter police and terrorize Austin in the new blockbuster mystery SOULS ON FIRE.  Buy it now to discover if a movie-addicted police detective and his former CIA agent and bar-owner friend can stop the violence that engulfs the city.

FaceBook page:

https://www.facebook.com/SoulsOnFire.JayW/