Whispers of War or Empty Threats?

You decide. Kim is an old, and dying dictator with nukes. He wouldn’t be around to see his country reverted to a radioactive stone age.

Voice of Protester

“Say you want a revolution?”

Iranian Revolution

I have witnessed revolution. I can now say that I helped free a people.

Just as Thomas Friedman wrote, the world truly is flat.

Last night, around ten ‘o clock eastern time, I stumbled onto Twitter. I looked at the ‘hot tags’ list and I saw a tag titled “#Iranelection”. I click it and was astounded.

More messages coming literally every ten 10 seconds from protesters over their mobile phones spreading the word. Coordinating a  revolution.

As I watched, more and messages kept flooding in. Everything from how to protect yourself from tear gas, to how-to carry an injured person, to secret police.

Yes, the Iranian secret police have invaded Twitter.

Soon, at least, their cover was blown. Protesters ferociously messaging “Xyz is a gov’t agent! Links are trap!” . The secret police provided false links ranging from how to send an anonymous E-mail, to how to bypass internet blocking. The websites linked would then capture the internet-enabled device’s IP used by protesters so that they could be caught.

So that a revolution could be silenced.

I along with many (if not all) of the Americans following the protest over twitter changed my location to Tehran. I was informed that this would help confuse the secret police and possibly save the lives of protesters.

As I type this, Iranian helicopters are dropping chemicals onto protestors.  That’s against UN regulations.. isn’t it?  “Chemicals” is pretty broad. They could be dumping anything from Clorine to Baking Soda.

All because of revolution.

To any Iranians for or against the protestors, realize this: revolution cannot be stopped. Never has been, never will be. The words of Lennon come to mind…

“Power to the people”.

The Cliche to End all Cliche’s

Brace yourselves, readers.  This is gonna be scary.

Yes, that’s right. You felt in the pit of your stomach when you read the title. Yet another post on yet another blog about the commander-in-chief, Barrak Obama.

Those of you still reading, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I can’t resist. I just adore this guy. He’s smart, funny, and he’s human.

I was just reading the CNN blog post (on the front page as a hot VIP post) “Obama admits to smoking on occasion” . The post is about how at a recent conference Obama admitted that he has fallen off the wagon before in terms of his smoking habit. H went on to say he doesn’t smoke in front of his  kids or his family.

Honestly, I’m glad he didn’t say something like “I haven’t smoked since 3 weeks before my inauguration as President of the United States”. As I mentioned, it shows he’s human and not some inaccessible stoned-faced robot.

Still breathing? What’s your pulse? Good, you survived the cliche. “Until next time, this is Three Dog! AOOOO! Bringing you the truth… No matter how bad it hurts“. Cheers if you get the entirely  pop cultural reference.

Thank a Journalist

Hello! We’re coming in live from Afghanistan and everyone’s singing “Cry Me a River”!

….Heck no, we’re in a classroom in semi-rural NJ and Afghanistan is most certainly NOT singing “Cry Me a River”.

Have I gotten you’re attention yet?

I hope so, because this is dog-eat-dog cut-throat competitive world of journalism (otherwise know as SIS ‘Slow Insanity Syndrome). Journalism has been practiced since the first bloke in between the Tigris and the Euphrates picked up a piece of calf-skin parchment and began to write about this new thing called ‘Civilization’.

Journalism isn’t just the breaking news, not just 9/11, not just Paris Hilton going jail, journalism is the neighborhood blood drive, the Fire Departments breakfast-with-Santa, just because it’s not Pulitzer material doesn’t diminish it’s significance and importance to the persons involved in producing it (not to mention the reader’s themselves).

Most people, with the creation of the World Wide Web, get all their news from places like Yahoo, the Onion (not even sure if that’s really a news site), and AOL-Youth in particular! Don’t get me wrong, there are some quality sites online, I’ll admit I spend at least an hour on Firefox everyday (and that’s minimum-I’ve spent hours online!). The reason I say youth in particular (this is more to parents reading, the youth themselves already know this), is that there’s a lot going on in the world we frankly just don’t care about.

For example, anyone see on CNN (or heard on NPR) about the terrorist incident that happened in Mumbai (that’s India) a few months ago? I won’t go into all the nasty details-we have a wide range of people reading this. My point is, they called it India’s 9/11, and at the time I really didn’t care. It’s not that I don’t realize the significance and the horror that took place there-what happened there was evil, but it’s just the average kid can’t bother to worry about the 200^th car bomb in Baghdad, we have essays, fashion, and math to worry about. It’s not that we don’t care; it’s that we simply don’t have the time to care.

At this point, more then one of you is probably wondering, “What’s your point?” my point is this:

A journalist has their work cut out for them. Balancing what the public (in my case; you guys) wants to hear and what they need to hear to be a well-informed public. Sometimes, a journalist gets rejected for it. Weather they’re on assignment for the AP in Baghdad following the blood drive on Elmer St. or covering the inauguration in D.C, it’s all journalism, and it’s all important. “Know today’s news? Thank a journalist.”

No Hard Lines

“Are you a Republican?” the bartender asked.

“Nope,” responds the young man slowly while drinking a Rum and Coke.

“Are you Democrat?” The bartender asked again, disappointed he’d made such a nice beverage for a young nobody of a Democrat.

“Nope” said the young man again, sipping away the last few dregs of his drink.

“Oh!” Said the bartender now very flustered. “You’re a damn Liberal!”

“Nope!” yells the man as he walked out the door. “I’m a Demlican!”

“Bet you’re Pro-Choice too,” The bartender grumbled.

______________

Though this tale is fictitious, I feel it illustrates a point I’ve been thinking about for a while: Having a static opinion is ignorant.

Think about it, you have to know all the angles to have a good, strong opinion. And odds are, you jumped into the ideological swimming pool with one mindset and climbed out later with a significantly altered opinion. This pool’s 6.7 billion feet wide, 6.7 billion feet deep.

For example, I go to an ecologically focused charter school in Northern New Jersey which is populated in the gross majority by Democrats and Liberals. My parents are also Liberal Democrats. God I love diversity.

While I agree with much of what my [immediate] family and school believes in regards to politics and the like, I find myself constantly struggling to seek out all the points of view. Then I formulate my opinion from there. It can be akin to climbing Everest.

If your opinion is static, is it really an opinion at all? Or is it just something you hope/wish/want to be true? Sure, it probably did start out as a valid opinion. And it stayed valid for about twenty-five seconds. The world is constantly changing and in motion. Do your best to keep up.

-Phil Garber Jr.

Hi Guys!

Hi guys!

Y’all remember that screwy post about Empathy? Yeah… that’s the one. Here’s the sit rep: It came into the minds of my peers with overwhelming support. I got laughter, people agreeing with me, got accused of a little libel, and shockingly enough, I was praised for my openness.

I was pretty shocked when I heard it, Openness? What? Sure, I was pretty open in my writing of the piece, but I’m sure as hell not open.

We all lie all the time. You lie to your kids about Santa, and the Tooth Fairy. You lie to your spouse about knowing what’s bothering them. You even lie to your boss about remembering their birthday. God-forbid remember how old they are.

People lie to make people happy. People lie to kill people. People lie to kill lots of people. People lie about not knowing weirdo in the corner who’s slowly draining his 3^rd rum and Coke. If you lie, people get mad. If you’re honest, people get mad.

I’ve never personally agreed with the whole “lie to make people feel good” idea. Aren’t we all taught as young children that lying is bad? Don’t lie to get a second ice cream cone, don’t lie about your homework, and don’t lie about finishing your vegetables.

Those of you who know me personally are probably calling me a dirty liar right about now. Sparing the details that could help someone chew me up later in life, I’ll admit it. Yes, I lie. I am el king of hypocrisy. I lie to make people feel better. Not much, but I do.

Two things really suck: lying, and making people feel good. I try to lie as little as I can. It isn’t so much that I feel bad about lying, it’s just I’m paranoid about getting caught. When you lie, you have to stick to that lie. That’s what (for me) makes lying one of the scariest things in the world. Just the thought of screwing up is enough to stop me from telling the lie in the first place.

Making people feel good sucks because it can be addicting. If you get addicted to making people feel good, you’ll do anything to achieve your goal. You’ll lie, you’ll destroy, and you’ll steal. Making people feel good is the pretty face on the Mafioso.

Sieh ja, my loyal apostles. I hope you’ve finished your Merlot from my last post. Remember: he’s just another nut from New Jersey. Now, go do something useful with yourself and go and get a ct scan. While you’re there, book me a visit too. Say Il filosofo pazzo’s coming.

Empathy

You know what really sucks? Empathy, it’ll screw you up.

If you feel bad for people, you’ll find yourself getting mad about things that really don’t concern you.

Picture this (real situation with names removed for anonymity): Friend A insults friend B using an ethnic slur. Friend B slaps friend A for using the ethnic slur. Friend A gets an in-school suspension (and thus missing a school trip) and friend B gets off scot free. Keep in mind that Friend A spent his day organizing the shed that the disorganized rabble of students (and teachers) messed up. As a side note, the shed looks better then it ever has-kudos to you, friend A!

Now I don’t believe it is ever right to call someone a slur (in this case, Gay Bashing). Nor do I believe it is right to slap someone (clue me in-when was assault legalized)? I believe Friend A should have still gotten his suspension, but so should have Friend B. Neither offense is legal.

It’s things like this that really tend to annoy me. It’s a damn misinterpretation of justice!

Now I don’t pretend that I know every single detail (though I am privy to many of the details through first and third person accounts), and it can’t help that I’m tired. Nor I’d wager does a pulled muscle in my chest keep me in the sanest frame of mind.

Now, because I am friends with both Friend A, and Friend B, I find myself mad at Friend B for getting off without penalty and feeling bad that all the blame (at least from my third person viewpoint) seems to be getting piled on Mr. A.

I know that it isn’t any of my business (couldn’t bring myself to even squeeze a ‘really’ in there) but, it just really rubs me the wrong way when I see a flaw in a system.

If everyone thought with empathy, it would become an ironic and awful way of looking at everything. Every case would go to the Supreme Court, where they would merely get a slap on the wrist, as keeping par with the empathy theme. Irony sucks too.

Have I descended into paranoid schizophrenia yet? Au revoir my adoring fans. If you are one of the millions in the blogosphere who may or may not ever read this (procrastination kills), disregard all I’ve written if you wish. Sip your coffee, finish your Merlot. I’m merely another nut in New Jersey. However, if you are one of the people with whom I do in fact take the time to know personally, I’d hope you’re not that stupid. Tune in next time for whatever I feel so inclined to write.

Dear Fellow Sentient Instrument of Evolution:

Hello Reader, Il People’ filosofo di s here.

That’s The Peoples Philosopher just in case you’re one of the 91% of Americans who are not bi-lingual (language is Italian, by the way).

Alas, I talk over myself. The extent of my lingual knowledge goes little beyond 7th grade Latin and Greek.

Now that the shock value of the above statistic has (hopefully) worn off, you’re probably wondering what the hell you’re doing here reading this post.  A tad about me is in order.

I’m fourteen years old and born a semi-kinda-sorta observant Jew on my father’s side, and Episcopalian on my mother’s side. My entire family converted to Unitarian Universalism a few years ago. I now consider myself a Jewish Unitarian Universalist. I have a half-brother seventeen years older than myself, and a twelve year old sister adopted from Bulgaria.

I go to a not-so ordinary charter school that teaches ecological sustainability and attempts to practice what it preaches.  The teachers are some of the most remarkable adults I’ve met in my life and have left a lasting impression on my life.

A more prominent feature of me that you would notice when you first meet me would be my speech. I have a speech fluency disorder that affects 1 in 5 children and 1 in 10 adults ([http://www.nsastutter.org/]National Stuttering Association[/url]). Think Porky Pig. I have been coached by my speech pathologist in the Bronx whom is quite possibly the most remarkable person I’ve met in my life. My role models in my life are my father, my mother, my brother, my speech pathologist, and my teachers.

In my writing (and in my life) I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist. But I’m sure as heck not an optimist. I try to put a dark humorous spin on what I write about. This can range from politics, a recent experience of mine, philosophy, and anything in between. The first four posts will be extremely rapid fire (one a day). I have been planning this blog for a while.

So jump in, I dare ya. Go forth into the pixilated pages of my blog with an open-mind and some bourbon. Onward, my apostle.

-Phil Garber Jr