Ted Kennedy was intrumental in crafting and getting through congress the Ryan White Care Act, which provides critical funding for lower-income people living with HIV/AIDS.
Ryan White funding literally provides a lifeline to hundreds of thousands of people who otherwise could not afford the exhorbitant cost of antiretroviral medicines and related pharmaceuticals, as well as other support services that allow those infected to live longer, more productive lives.
Every day, I see people who rely on Ryan White funding to stay alive. No matter what other human frailties and foibles Ted Kennedy experienced, this is a legacy that distinguishes him as a humanitarian.
Ryan White comes up for re-authorization next month and it would be a shame if congress failed to support it. Please make sure that your congressional delegation understands the vital importance of this program and votes for its continuence.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Watching Barney Be Frank
Back in the late '80s, I was working as a spokesman for a large banking trade group in Washington and got a daily ringside seat watching congress attempt to unwind the mess the savings and loan industry had become. (As a sidebar note, this was at a time when the commercial banking industry was going hoarse trying to explain to policy makers and the public that commercial banks were not S&Ls and would never be caught dead in that kind of fiasco. Their main talking point: "We're much more strictly regulated, so that couldn't happen to us." I had to repeat that one about 50 times a day to reporters. I know...you don't have to say it...I'm going to rot in hell for it.)
During the countless hearings in the house and senate, I got a chance to watch relative up-and-comers like Barney Frank (at that point, he was into his third term) deal with seasoned veterans like Henry B. Gonzales, chairman of the banking committee, whose first term as San Antonio's representative began shortly after Texas was admitted to the union.
Frank was always an edgy kind of guy. Gay and nothing to hide in that regard, he was sick and tired of politics as usual in DC. To the party leadership, he was a potential loose cannon. To those who understood and appreciated his disdain for "go-along-to-get-along" politics, he was a breath of fresh air.
I harken to the days of the S&L hearings because I spotted something very familiar when I watched Frank the other day handling a particularly vicious attack by a constituent at his town hall lynching.
You don't see as many of the brahmin class in congress these days. Nancy Pelosi is a meer shadow of Tip O'Neill. This has nothing to do with her sex; it's a difference in the effective use of power. If here today, O'Neill would have had health care reform nailed down to the point of being easily explainable to someone sharing an elevator ride.
Henry Gonzales was a tough-minded, hard-bitten pugilist, who didn't take well to challenges--especially from freshly minted, erudite gayboys from New England. It wasn't that Frank and Gonzales were diametrically opposed in their approach to banking reform--it was more that Henry was driving and others on the committee needed to sit back and stop messing with the car's radio.
During those often-contentious hearings, Frank, who clearly does not suffer fools well, could really have laid into the chairman. However, he managed to make his points effectively, with humor and candor that so often went over Gonzo's head, the poor guy never seemed to know whether to plotz or wind his watch. Surrounded as I was at the time by pinstriped. money-soaked lobbyists who loved regaling me with stories of "fact-finding" junkets they'd funded to Hawaii and/or hookers made available for well-placed members of congress, watching Barney Frank was like seeing the curtain pulled back on the Wizard of Oz while he's shouting into the microphone and working the levers controlling the pyrotechnics.
For the first time, I got to watch someone in that august body who really seemed to get it. Someone who knew how the game was played, and was finding a way to play it better than anyone else in the room. I felt like, had I the balls to be where he was, I would want to be saying the same things and working on behalf of the same people. It was among the most uplifting experiences (of which I can count on one hand) that I had working in Washington.
Which brings me to the incident of the poor lady who had been so jacked up on venomous diatribe by insurance industry lackies like Rush "And then I need you to go to these other five pharmacies, Consuela" Limbaugh that she can accuse her Jewish congressman of promoting eugenics a la Adolph Hitler. The reason I have no future in politics is because my reponse would have been along the lines of, "You worthless piece of garbage" and going downhill from there. Frank's reponse: "On what planet do you spend most of your time," after which comparing a discussion with her as useful as talking to a dining room table.
The reponse from The Right was almost Olbermannesque--"How dare you, sir..."
I don't care where one stands on health care proposals; when someone compares the attempt to provide working families with affordable comprehensive medical care to the holocaust, everyone should respond in a most unforgiving way to the person who utters that kind of vile trash. I'm all for the first amendment right to stupid speech. It doesn't mean I have to agree with it.
I'm proud of Barney Frank. I feel sorry for those who don't get that he's trying to help everyone, including the morons.
During the countless hearings in the house and senate, I got a chance to watch relative up-and-comers like Barney Frank (at that point, he was into his third term) deal with seasoned veterans like Henry B. Gonzales, chairman of the banking committee, whose first term as San Antonio's representative began shortly after Texas was admitted to the union.
Frank was always an edgy kind of guy. Gay and nothing to hide in that regard, he was sick and tired of politics as usual in DC. To the party leadership, he was a potential loose cannon. To those who understood and appreciated his disdain for "go-along-to-get-along" politics, he was a breath of fresh air.
I harken to the days of the S&L hearings because I spotted something very familiar when I watched Frank the other day handling a particularly vicious attack by a constituent at his town hall lynching.
You don't see as many of the brahmin class in congress these days. Nancy Pelosi is a meer shadow of Tip O'Neill. This has nothing to do with her sex; it's a difference in the effective use of power. If here today, O'Neill would have had health care reform nailed down to the point of being easily explainable to someone sharing an elevator ride.
Henry Gonzales was a tough-minded, hard-bitten pugilist, who didn't take well to challenges--especially from freshly minted, erudite gayboys from New England. It wasn't that Frank and Gonzales were diametrically opposed in their approach to banking reform--it was more that Henry was driving and others on the committee needed to sit back and stop messing with the car's radio.
During those often-contentious hearings, Frank, who clearly does not suffer fools well, could really have laid into the chairman. However, he managed to make his points effectively, with humor and candor that so often went over Gonzo's head, the poor guy never seemed to know whether to plotz or wind his watch. Surrounded as I was at the time by pinstriped. money-soaked lobbyists who loved regaling me with stories of "fact-finding" junkets they'd funded to Hawaii and/or hookers made available for well-placed members of congress, watching Barney Frank was like seeing the curtain pulled back on the Wizard of Oz while he's shouting into the microphone and working the levers controlling the pyrotechnics.
For the first time, I got to watch someone in that august body who really seemed to get it. Someone who knew how the game was played, and was finding a way to play it better than anyone else in the room. I felt like, had I the balls to be where he was, I would want to be saying the same things and working on behalf of the same people. It was among the most uplifting experiences (of which I can count on one hand) that I had working in Washington.
Which brings me to the incident of the poor lady who had been so jacked up on venomous diatribe by insurance industry lackies like Rush "And then I need you to go to these other five pharmacies, Consuela" Limbaugh that she can accuse her Jewish congressman of promoting eugenics a la Adolph Hitler. The reason I have no future in politics is because my reponse would have been along the lines of, "You worthless piece of garbage" and going downhill from there. Frank's reponse: "On what planet do you spend most of your time," after which comparing a discussion with her as useful as talking to a dining room table.
The reponse from The Right was almost Olbermannesque--"How dare you, sir..."
I don't care where one stands on health care proposals; when someone compares the attempt to provide working families with affordable comprehensive medical care to the holocaust, everyone should respond in a most unforgiving way to the person who utters that kind of vile trash. I'm all for the first amendment right to stupid speech. It doesn't mean I have to agree with it.
I'm proud of Barney Frank. I feel sorry for those who don't get that he's trying to help everyone, including the morons.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Alan Fay, Go to the Information Booth...
It's 40 years now since Alan Fay's presence was requested to assist a friend apparently having a bum acid trip at Woodstock. Anniversaries of the original festival are occasions for me to ponder a question that has dogged me since I first saw the movie and heard the stage announcement--"What the hell did Alan Fay do about it?"
Consider the scene: maybe 399,999 other people partying around him when he hears a message coming from towers of speakers, telling him his presence is required at the "Information Booth."
Best as I can figure, there are two basic scenarios of what happened next.
Consider the scene: maybe 399,999 other people partying around him when he hears a message coming from towers of speakers, telling him his presence is required at the "Information Booth."
Best as I can figure, there are two basic scenarios of what happened next.
- Alan hears the message and immediately becomes concerned for the well-being of his friend, "Jim," who failed to heed the warning about the brown acid and is now being restrained by some second-year med student to keep from hurting himself. Alan finds "Jim" frantically watching the faces of those around him melt into gelatinous puddles of eyeballs and lips, while Alan soothingly assures him that it will all be over soon and everything will be ok. Meantime, Grace Slick is singing "...and the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all....."
or....
- Alan has managed to get some precious time away from "Jim" who is a total jerk but wheedled his way into riding in Alan's VW bus by offering to buy all the beer they needed, since he just got paid from his stock clerk job at Montgomery-Ward. While "Jim" was wandering away from their campsite complaining that he needed to find a clean Port-O-San, Alan met Carla, a voluptuous redhead with decidedly liberal morals and two ounces of Nepalese temple hash that could render one amenable to being run over by a front-end loader. Alan barely heard the stage announcement as his ears were rather effectively ensconced between Carla's heaving bosoms. He manages to mutter something like, "Fucking dickwad, serves him right," before his words are stuffed back into his throat by Carla's tongue.
What, you may well ask, is the reason this matter deserves contemplation?
Because we are all Alan Fay being summoned to the information booth.
Because the "seminal event" of our generation on Max's farm was simply a huge party with great bands, followed by four decades of making impossible decisions and responding to events that no one could possibly have envisioned.
Because the information booth is now being run by guys like Lindsey Graham and John Boehner, who couldn't care less how bad your bummer is. To them, it's your own damn fault for having a bad trip, even though they made a bundle selling the acid, while getting to screw Carla in the bargain.
Caveat emptor...and happy anniversary.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Meet the New Bores (Same As the Old Bores)
So, we have the lovably fuzzy-headed Sen. Arlen Specter (D-R-Whatever They're Serving Today-PA) getting booed and catcalled as he tries to explain the proposed health-care reform measure to constituents.
Now, there's plenty Sen. Spectator could legitimately be booed for, so it's not the expression of disdain that caught my interest. It was the booers. Apparently they finished buying their lottery tickets, polished off a few cans of Schmidt's and, since they'd already seen the episode of "Golden Girls" airing that day, decided to head over to the Town Hall Meeting. To create a disruption.
What I want to know is, when did these mavericky Palinesque wannabes become the Yippies? We have here a bunch of pseudo-conservative pathological naysayers who have adopted the tactics of Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin to raise an issue that seems to focus on the following talking points:
Now, there's plenty Sen. Spectator could legitimately be booed for, so it's not the expression of disdain that caught my interest. It was the booers. Apparently they finished buying their lottery tickets, polished off a few cans of Schmidt's and, since they'd already seen the episode of "Golden Girls" airing that day, decided to head over to the Town Hall Meeting. To create a disruption.
What I want to know is, when did these mavericky Palinesque wannabes become the Yippies? We have here a bunch of pseudo-conservative pathological naysayers who have adopted the tactics of Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin to raise an issue that seems to focus on the following talking points:
- I don't want the government telling me when to kill my grandmother
- I don't want some bureaucrat deciding my medical treatment
- The Canadians hate their medical system and already flock to our doctors like meth addicts to a Mountain Dew giveaway promotion
- The government would never be able to run an insurance program
- OK, most of us get Medicare and Medicaid but that doesn't count
- Something else that Lush Bimbo told me to say but I forgot after my 4th Schmidt's
- Obama wants to be your daughter's baby daddy
- Don't taze me, bro
Apparently the best shot at public discourse for the opponents of any-change-that-could-be-bad-for-insurance-companies is to get to their feet and begin yelling yadda yadda yadda and hope their victims will throw up their hands and say, "My God, you're right! This idea sucks! What the hell were we thinking? I'm so very sorry."
Right, just the way Nixon totally came to Jesus about the Vietnam war after the Yipsters staged Inhoguration ceremonies and smoke-ins on the Mall. "Dammit, Henry, those fucking kids are right! It is an immoral war and I want it stopped tomorrow!"
Unfortunately, Hoffman and Rubin became caricatures and sadly irrelevant. Kissinger got a Nobel Peace Prize and the freedom our troops paid for with their lives was apparently the freedom of Vietnamese government officials to open up restaurants and convenience stores in Arlington, VA.
The sad truth is that people are dying now because of long-standing government inaction on health care. These people deserved the chance to lead productive lives in this country, too. The tactics used by opponents of this effort are shameful. And the people who put them up to it should be looked at as loathesome enablers of pain.
If the clown shoe fits, wear it. We don't get fooled again.
Glenn Beck's Agenda
Glenn Beck says that President Obama is racist. And who's to say he isn't right. But then, what do we really know about Glenn Beck?
Here's what we do know. Beck is a German name. And he likes to wear his hair in that wehrmacht style so fashionable among the Brown Shirt brigades. And what do we really know about his family? Sure, the report was that his mother and brother committed suicide....but where exactly was he at the time of these events? Does anyone really know? He certainly hasn't been forthcoming in shedding any light on it. Maybe because there's some question about his parentage? Or where he was born?
You can certainly understand why the secrecy, especially if it turned out he was the product of a Goebbels scheme to have Hitler youth continue breeding in the US after the war; their super-race progeny indoctrinated with the finer elements of hate-mongering, xenophobic viciousness. You know, it's not that hard to understand why Glenn Beck assumes his pose as wrapped-in-the-flag patriot, the way one might expect of someone trying to cloak his real purpose. And would it surprise you if it turned out that Ruppert Murdoch (another foreigner of dubious background) bankrolls what appears to be a fifth-column attempt to do what the Nazi regime's military forces couldn't accomplish?
Do you feel safe, having some beady-eyed final solutionist flecking the TV camera with spittle as he screams for your children to fear the people who claim to be their friends? Would you want your airwaves available to someone who may have committed matricide and fratricide to keep secret his plot, the seeds of which were planted in the Reich Chancellery decades before? Why doesn't Beck address these concerns? Is there something he's trying to cover up? What's his real agenda?
You know, I love this country. I actually [excuse me, I'm tearing up and it's making it difficult to type] have a profound adoration from my country. I'd even have sex with it if I could find an appropriate orifice. And I will stand at the gates of hell before I will let some diseased product of nazi fanatacism get away with this heinous plot to deliver the United States into the festered hands of people who would lull us into security by saying over and over how fair and balanced they are. Glenn Beck must answer the questions.
America....you have the right to know.
Here's what we do know. Beck is a German name. And he likes to wear his hair in that wehrmacht style so fashionable among the Brown Shirt brigades. And what do we really know about his family? Sure, the report was that his mother and brother committed suicide....but where exactly was he at the time of these events? Does anyone really know? He certainly hasn't been forthcoming in shedding any light on it. Maybe because there's some question about his parentage? Or where he was born?
You can certainly understand why the secrecy, especially if it turned out he was the product of a Goebbels scheme to have Hitler youth continue breeding in the US after the war; their super-race progeny indoctrinated with the finer elements of hate-mongering, xenophobic viciousness. You know, it's not that hard to understand why Glenn Beck assumes his pose as wrapped-in-the-flag patriot, the way one might expect of someone trying to cloak his real purpose. And would it surprise you if it turned out that Ruppert Murdoch (another foreigner of dubious background) bankrolls what appears to be a fifth-column attempt to do what the Nazi regime's military forces couldn't accomplish?
Do you feel safe, having some beady-eyed final solutionist flecking the TV camera with spittle as he screams for your children to fear the people who claim to be their friends? Would you want your airwaves available to someone who may have committed matricide and fratricide to keep secret his plot, the seeds of which were planted in the Reich Chancellery decades before? Why doesn't Beck address these concerns? Is there something he's trying to cover up? What's his real agenda?
You know, I love this country. I actually [excuse me, I'm tearing up and it's making it difficult to type] have a profound adoration from my country. I'd even have sex with it if I could find an appropriate orifice. And I will stand at the gates of hell before I will let some diseased product of nazi fanatacism get away with this heinous plot to deliver the United States into the festered hands of people who would lull us into security by saying over and over how fair and balanced they are. Glenn Beck must answer the questions.
America....you have the right to know.
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