Archive for the ‘ALL POSTS’ Category

Mr. President,

I do not in any way envy the position you are in as regards Syria.  As much as I hate the idea of actually agreeing with something said by Congressman Paul — trust me, this would be the only thing — I think that what we should do as regards Syria along with all the conflicts in the middle east  is nothing.  The situation in that whole region sprung forth as a result of seeds planted in colonial times.   The various extremist groups that abound gained their first real power when they rushed in to fill the vacuum created by the collapse of colonialism.  But each of these extremist groups filled a different area of that vacuum   Since that collapse, repeated attempts by the US and it allies to ameliorate the situation have been made, but history is quite clear that not only have these attempts failed, they almost always have made things worse.

The culture of these extremist groups is steeped in the “Blood Feud” which originated in Bedouin desert tribes.   To a member of one of these groups this means: If I perceive that you have done wrong to any member of my group, it is my right and obligation to retaliate and sacrifice my life if need be doing so.  The fact that people blow themselves up constantly in support of this crazy doctrine, is a clear indication of its power.  Whenever we or one of our allies supports one group over another in any way — for example the Sunni rebel group the Saudi’s would have us support — attacks against us and our allies is immediately  ramped up by al qaeda .  If giving even financial aid to one side over the other exacerbates the problem, then what can we do?  We can let them work out their secular differences among themselves.  If they want to be theocratic societies that is their business, let them.  If they are not interested in western culture and morals, we should respect that and not attempt to flood them with it.   If on the other hand, Egypt, Syria, Iran, etc want a Democratic society they will have to make that happen themselves like we did.   I think it has been proven without a doubt that this change cannot be orchestrated from the outside.  It must come from within.   Maybe in another hundred years, the Sunnis and the Shiites will be able to coexist in the way that our Catholics and Protestants do today — plenty of disagreement, with only rare occurrences of mayhem.


I am against the death penalty — do not think it is justified ever.  I just wanted to make my stand on the death penalty clear to the reader before I continue.

I googled “Crimes punishable by death” and found the Death Penalty Information Center  and their claim is that: “The death penalty in the United States is used almost exclusively for the crime of murder.”   They go on to say that in some states the death penalty is in the statutes to include those who commit rape against children.

While I am appalled by even the idea of such people and the depraved acts they commit — People who would without any twinge of conscience rob others of their most precious possessions — their lives and their futures  and  while I think when these “people” when convicted of such acts, should never see the light of freedom again I still am against the death penalty.

Officially killing people as a punishment for killing people is just plain illogical.  Doing such is the equivalent of having an orgy to promote virginity or a war to promote peace.

That being said however, the death penalty still exists and people continue to be executed. Since this barbaric procedure continues, then perhaps some of those who have traditionally been immune to this consequence should be included.

Why is some dirt-bag who plans and executes a burglary of a liquor store and brutally murders the owner any worse than (or as bad as in my opinion) the CEO of a major corporation or a bank who knowingly makes decisions that ruin the lives of not one man and his family, but of millions of hard-working people and who negatively impacts — well – the whole world?  How many people lost their entire fortunes so these sociopaths could turn a quick profit?  How many people died, either by suicide or by stress related disease as a result of their greed?  I do not know those figures, but I do know how many of the CEO vermin got a lethal injection.  That would be zero.  And in addition to not being executed or almost all cases, not even serving  time.  To add to that insult, these “people” received obscenely large bonuses as a result of the profits made by them from their activity that brought the world’s finances through the dire straits that it now navigates.   Again, I do not believe anyone should get the death penalty, but if anybody does, the above mentioned corporate scumbags should be first in line.

For those of you who think that American government has now achieved Orwell’s “Big Brother” status,  I think you should contemplate the quote from the excellent article on this subject appearing the the June 19 edition of Newsweek, authored by Michel M. Moynihan:

“If you are invoking ‘1984’ in a country which ‘1984’ is available for purchase… you likely don’t understand the point of 1984”

In other words if our government had achieved “Big Brother” status, you would not be able to buy the book, like you still cannot in such countries North Korea and where unable to get it legally in the USSR until the fall of the Berlin wall.
Mr. Moynihan goes on to write:

“In 1959, just five years after the death of Joseph Stalin, Soviet cultural officials praised Orwell’s Anti-Soviet masterpiece.  The Book wouldn’t be legally available in the Soviet Union for another 30 years — it only existed in samizdat form, translated, typed, and copied by dissidents — yet Kremlin propagandists recast the story of Winston Smith’s futile revolt against “Big Brother” as a premonition of “America in 1984.”

Mr. Moynihan also states the irony of Mr. Snowden — the leaker of the moment — first fleeing to China and seeking asylum in that “free society”, and when that didn’t work, flew to Russia — while not quite the perfect model for 1984 that the former Soviet Union was, certainly not a bastion of the free press and freedom of information,  and then to finally request asylum in that bastion of freedom Uruguay, where they are staunch supporters of whistle blowers — as long as they are blowing their whistles about the US or its allies, but who have an iron hand wrapped around their own dark secrets.

All that being said, I am not sure that in a sense, we are all(the entire world) under the thumb of big brother in the form of big business — the banks, energy companies, etc.

NOTE: I wrote the following piece circa 1989 and first published it on my web domain,, in 1995.  With only minor grammar corrections, I left it as I originally wrote it, but I now have added italicized comments in this version to point out my memory errors and to expand somewhat on the original.

It was three A.M. August 11, 1969 and I was sprawled on my bunk in the barracks of B company of the 35th S&S Battalion in Ludwigsberg, Germany reading “A Clockwork Orange“, when the CQ* announced loudly from the Peace23hallway that I had a long distance call from “the world”**. I knew that any news coming at this hour was likely not good and when I got to the phone my fears were confirmed because it was my father bearing the sad news that my stepmother had died of a heart attack. After I got off the phone I quickly learned from the CQ that It is military policy to grant a 30 day emergency leave to soldiers who lose a member of their immediate family.  Therefore in a rather dazed condition and well before noon I had already been transported via “deuce and a half (A 2.5 ton truck), to Frankfurt Rhein Main Airport and was getting ready to board a plane bound for New Jersey.   After a short stop there I caught a flight to Syracuse and was picked up there by my sister and she drove me the twenty-five miles to our home in Auburn.

For the next two days I stayed with my family to help them greet visitors etc. The whole ordeal was particularly hard on my father,  who at the time was still in the process of partial recovery from having fallen off the roof and breaking his neck. He was devoted to Helen and was devastated by her death, both because they had a very close loving relationship and also because he blamed the stress of her having to deal with his injury and care for him being a factor in her heart attack(I did not go into greater detail about my father’s situation here, because this essay originally did not stand alone and was {still is} part of the memoir about my military experience I have been writing for the last twenty years “Army Life and Oxymoron” and a whole chapter in that deals with my father). After the funeral I went to visit one of my best and lifelong friends Jimmy Leinen and he showed me a mimeographed piece of paper that”this guy out by the lake”  had given him. It was all crumpled up, and the original had been handwritten in a somewhat sloppy hand. It was an advertisement for a rock festival scheduled for the following weekend just one day away. When I saw the list of artists that were supposed to play I said to Jim with a doubtful expression:

“Yeah right! Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, the Who, AND Jefferson Airplane?!? Who gave you this thing anyway?” I said waving the crumpled torn paper at him.

“Some guy in a far out VW bus was givin’ ’em out by the lake(Emerson Park yesterday. He swore that this was the real thing.”

“Probably a bunch of crap” I said.

“Oh yeah? Well what if it really happens and we miss it?” He asked with an indignant smile and then added seriously “besides, I just had a gut feeling he was telling the truth.”

“Maybe” I said with more than a little doubt showing in my voice and then on a brighter note I added, “sheeit man!   it would be fun to drive down there anyway, so let’s!”

Despite my initial doubts, on Friday August 15th, 1969 at about 9:30 a.m., myself, Jimmy, Frank Collela, and another friend of ours, Eddie Shanahan climbed in Frank’s car and started off on the close to 300 mile trip to Bethal, New York. Bethel is a small town near the artist community of Woodstock and the place the concert was actually held. The concert wasn’t in the town itself, but on a farm outside town owned by one Max Yazgar (the farmer of peace), as unlikely a person to foster such an enterprise as could be imagined.

Frank was the self-assigned leader on this mission and as it turned out, at least in this case, we were glad he was. He was the resident acid guru of Auburn’s version of the “beautiful people.”  and was well versed in the knowledge of all drugs and hippie philosophy, having majored in such at the University of Hawaii.  Read some of Frank’s experiences at that place on his blog here.

It was about 2:30 in the afternoon when we got as close as we could by car. We could see no evidence of the vent and one person we spoke to said it was about a 12 mile walk.  I do not know if it was twelve miles, but what we saw was that at the point where we had stopped, the  two lane country road was packed solid, four cars across as far as the eye could see – a giant immobile snake.   Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars were mixed in with the rest, all at a total standstill, and most unoccupied.  Walking along the road on either sid of the road as far as we could see were knots of people heading away from us and toward the concert.

“Fuck this!” said Frank “There has gotta be a better way than walkin’ way they hell over there” and while he was saying this he was already in the process backing up and heading down a country road to the left and away from the throng of cars. He didn’t even think to ask for a vote, but even if he had, I think we would have all agreed not to take that walk even if it was less than 12 miles.

We drove down that road for about a mile and then took a right on another even smaller road, hoping to find a back way in. After about a half hour of weaving around on this very bumpy road, we came upon a farm on our right with a farmer standing next to his barn holding a pitchfork like a staff at his side, and wearing coveralls, like he was posing for portrait by Grant Wood. Frank got out and asked the guy if he knew a back way in the concert. The farmer said for $20 he did. We scraped that together among us, which took some scraping as none of us had much money and $20 was a lot in those days. Frank handed him the money and we proceeded to follow this guy in our car as he drove his tractor on highly inaccessible roads through farm fields, woods, around fallen logs for a good twenty minutes until suddenly there we were!  In our car in the middle of 500,000 people! Didn’t have to walk at all(Actually after having Frank read this essay several years ago, he pointed out that I had events wrong and I realized he was right — my memory of events had become quite distorted over the years. In fact, I did not see Frank at the concert until after Jimmy and I arrived in another car.  When we found him he was standing next to his{the only} car near the “lake” {farm pond – mud hole} and as soon as we saw him, he {with widely dilated eyes} told us the story of how his car got to this point pretty much the way I related above.  When I wrote the original sometime in the ’80s, I had already told and re-told the story so many times and in doing so I had morphed myself into that car with Frank and I swear I really believed experienced  the whole thing first hand, farmer and all).

   What really made Woodstock unique was that the authorities didn’t have any idea how many of us were going to show up.  In fact, since Woodstock was advertised by word of mouth or in the way I found out, most of the authorities did not know anybody was going there. They were thankfully not ready. That is why all other attempts at this type of concert afterward pale by comparison. At Watkins Glenn, which followed shortly in Woodstock’s wake for example, the authorities and the entrepreneurs  were ready to make people march to their tune, with a hoard of policeman “busting heads” and vendors to sell every kind of crap one can imagine. And then there was Altamont, where the ‘Stones‘ made the mistake of hiring the ‘Hells Angels‘ as security guards and “the Angels” idea of security was murdering concert goers who stepped out of line. At Woodstock people were free to do exactly what they wanted and there was no one to tell them they couldn’t use drugs, go naked, or publicly make love. I saw a guy with a huge hunk of hashish sitting on the back of his station wagon hairy from head to toe and stark naked, actively trading his wares while a policeman stood not 20 feet away watching this with astunned, powerless look on his face, like a little boy who has lost track of his mother at the grocery store(The music flowed to us all from one-hundred foot high speaker stands on either side of a huge stage sitting at the bottom of a Natural Amphitheater formed in the grassy farmland.  I never really made it down close to the music as humanity became more and more tightly packed the closer to the music one squeezed, so Jimmy and I did not venture there.  Jimmy, is paraplegic and has always utilized a wheelchair, so he certainly had no interest in doing so).  Besides, that was one hell of a sound system and you could hear the music just fine no matter where you wandered.

I am aware that we were pretty wild at that time, and our viewpoints were rather idealistic and oversimplified. We “love generation” people had no clue that our revolution would come to a grinding halt with the advent of AIDS twenty years later. Even considering the utter failure of free love, we still accomplished something significant in my opinion. We got together with 500,000 people for three days of peace and music. Put another way, we were a major city for three days. Two babies were born, and not one act of violence is recorded as having been committed. I certainly didn’t witness one. I challenge anyone to Find one city this size then find any three day period in it’s history that was violence free (Frank also pointed out my error here by adding the comment you can see below in comments “Also, I must remind you that there was at least one act of violence… I punched a guy, who was having a bum trip, in the face… you of all people should remember that since you sent that radio dude from Canada to interview me for a documentary he was doing… LOLOL”  The person Frank refers to had interviewed me after reading my piece in research for a story he was doing to celebrate Woodstock’s 25th anniversary.   In addiction to CBC, I was interviewed by the BBC and representative from a Japanese TV station at that time as well).

Actually, the most fun I had at the event was after the torrential rain storm soaked us all.  The grassy hills with troughs of water running down them made the best natural slip-and-slides possible and I took full advantage of them, resulting in my entire being being caked with mud.  When I finally saw the movie — ironically in a movie theater in Amsterdam where the imbibing of the same types of substances freely imbibed at Woodstock were also freely available — I hoped to catch a glimpse of myself sliding in the mud with the other manics out there, but I could not.  

When I got back to Germany after this experience and word got around that I had been to Woodstock,  I was the envy of all the hippies in all of the companies at our post and before long, I had acquired the nickname (that I did not care for) of “Woodstock”, which all my German friends of course pronounced “Voodstock.”

Oh! and one more thing.  We may not have ushered the world into a free-love panacea, but it is clear to me at least that history has shown that we were right about Viet Nam.

* CQ stands for Charge of Quarters.  Each company has a small office occupied by this person after working hours and all night every night.  This duty was assigned by roster and shared by all form corporal (E4) through Staff Sergeant (E6).  I was an E4, so I pulled CQ several times.

** I Remember well that by this time I was already tired of hearing this moronic derogatory GI term implying that Germany is not part of the world

. . . Four Days of Communication at HK

I am beginning this blog while sitting in the Best Western in Woodbury, NY, not far from Sands Point, NY the home of The Helen Keller National Center, where I just spent the last four nights  and days.   It the most rewarding conference of any kind that I have ever attended in my thirty-six years in the field human service,  my twenty-seven years in that of visual impairment or my twelve years as an O&M instructor – having attended a pile of conferences throughout.   I am not however casting disparagement on the others I attended,  because I always learned new things and usually came away greatly enriched.  But even after four days  of demanding work from dawn ’till dusk and beyond, with only five-minute breaks between sessions, working lunches and sessions after dinner,  rather than being exhausted I was so energized I practically floated to my car when I left.  At the seminar we covered mountains of valuable material and while I will summarize the gist of what was offered, no way could I ever do the material justice, but really that is not the purpose of this blog.   As I was leaving the conference, many of my colleagues requested that I send them copies of the photos I took and I think displaying them here is probably the best way I can make them easily available  without emailing monster emails to everyone.  Below before the pictures start is in a tiny nutshell summary of some of the sessions and activities from the conference, but first I would like to mention and thank all of the participants and instructors for the help, support and camaraderie that they generously offered throughout the experience.  I would, from the bottom of my heart like to thank:

Landra B. 
(Ontario, CA),   Magali G. (Ashland MA),
Wayne M. (Denver CO),  Monique M. (Denver CO), Chantae S. (Sands Point, NY),
Amber W. (Kalamazoo MI), Katie C. (Indianapolis, IN), Patrick G. (Burlington VT){my roommate at HK}), Merri L.(Riverside CA), Tricia M. (Sands Point, NY),
Debra S. (Talladega, AL), Sherrie W.(Hempstead, NY), Feng Y.(Salt Lake City, UT),
Heddy Z. (Riverside CA).

Anindya “Bapin” Bhattacharyya
, BA – Technology and Training Specialist Helen Keller National Center (San Francisco, CA)
Eugene Bourquin, DHA, COMS, CI & CT, CLVT – Senior instructor Orientation and Mobility Department at Helen Keller National Center(Manhattan, NY)
Eleanor Carlson, MA, COMS, GDMI Helen Keller National Center – Regional representative (Denver CO),
Deborah Fiderer, BA Supervisor Community Services Helen Keller National Center, Monica Godfrey-Lehrer, MA COMS – Supervisor Technology Department Helen Keller National Center
Carol Hammer, MA, CCC-A, F-AAA – Audiologist Helen Keller National Center
Deborah Harlin, MS, TVI Supervisor Technology Department Helen Keller National Center Joseph McNulty, MA Executive Director Helen Keller National Center
Dona Sauerburger, MA COMS Certified Orientation & Mobility Specialist (Gambris, MA)
And last, but far from least
Sr. Bernadette J. Wynne, MA Coordinator National Training Team Helen Keller National Center.

I would also like to offer special thanks to my roommate Patrick, for being the best of all possible roommates imaginable.  I would also like to thank my fellow team members –Landra, Monique, Christie and especially Jill our student — who all helped me greatly to get through the very challenging task of beginning to learn and implement techniques to teach deaf-blind mobility skills  in downtown port Washington.  Oh and thanks to the interpreters and their great feedback as well.

Also, I would like to thank the kitchen staff for providing us with three square meals daily that were really quite good, along with their good nature and the sense of humor that they exhibited while dispensing it to us.


Our first session offered us a history of deaf-blindness and most of us were surprised to learn that Helen Keller was not the first person of deaf-blindness who was formally trained.  We found out that Ms Victorine Morriseau (1789 – 1832 had that distinction and that the second one was Ms. Laura Bridgman born in 1829 and who attended the Perkins School for the Blind in 1837.   We then found out that the third person with deaf-blindness known be educated was Julia Brace (1807 – 1884) and that Helen Keller (1880 – 1968) was the fourth.  Also in this session we also learned about the history of deaf-blind education, who is included in that population and the breakdown of the physical conditions that lead to deaf-blindness.  We learned about the major causes of Deaf-blindness and we learned how Rubella was the leading cause in history for the condition, and that today Usher’s Syndrome is the leading cause.   We also learned the characteristics of  Charge Syndrome and how this genetic effect brings about deaf-blindness.

In our next session we learned about the characteristics of deaf-blind culture and how it differs from those of  both non-disabled and other disabled populations and after that we jumped right into the much larger topic of communication with persons who are deaf blind along with a general discussion of various signed languages; what is and is not a language; the role of the interpreter; the responsibilities of the interpreter and much more that I could possibly do justice to in this blog.

Next, (and I am not sure whether this occurred late Monday or Early Tuesday) we learned about the various technology available to people who are deaf-blind to aid in communciation.   Without going into detail, I will list the items discussed.   We learned about: The Brailliant B40 Braille display; Screen and text enlargement programs such as  Window Eyes and ZoomText; Features in the iPad that can be used by users who are deaf-blind; The DBC (Deaf-Blind Commuicator; The iPhone 4s, and more, including other adapted devices like the sonic bat-like  Mini-guide and the iBill a talking/vibrating money ID machine.  When we had finished our session with technology,  Our FL (Fearless Leader) Gene announced to us offhandedly that right after this session, we would be heading to Port Washington, where we would all be hopping on a train to Manhattan to participate in a “Street Crossing Race”, an activity that none of us had the faintest idea as to the nature of.  We soon found out.

After the group convened at the train station in Port Washington and Gene instructed in how to get our tickets, we obtained them and boarded the train and headed for Penn Station in the Big Apple.   Along the way Gene entertained us with bits of his endless fascinating knowledge of the area, pointing out restaurants and other landmarks along the way.  Also along the way he gave us the basic idea of what we had in store for us in the “Street Crossing Race.”  We found out that when we got to the starting point — 7th Ave. and 34th St. — the two teams — our group was divided in half —  would congregate on the opposite corners of 34th Street and 7th Ave.  At the starting signal, one member from each team was to don a blindfold and using her or his cane, walk to the next corner (35th), stand there and display a sign like the one below . . .

. . . by holding it over the non-cane side shoulder until a passing pedestrian gives the tapping signal and after that person guides the participant to the other side, also the helper has moved on and cannot observe,  the blindfold is taken off and passed on to the next victim.

Although I did not express it, I will admit that when I looked up the 7th St. sidewalks on both side of 34th to see people flowing five abreast in a solid mass toward us, I was experiencing more than a small degree of skepticism about the efficacy of this endeavor.  However as we tapped our way through them, those masses parted for us as if they were the red sea and in my observation none of us waited as long a  minute at our respective corners before a good Samaritan helped us across.    After this thoroughly uplifting experience Gene took us on a tour of some of the sites, which ended at famous John’s Pizzeria, where we all sat down and shared a delicious meal of a variety of slices.  We arrived back at HK, quite tired, but still energized by this wonderful activity, even after a fifteen hour day.

In our next session, we were instructed and began the discussion on the need for economy of language when communicating spoken language with the deaf-blind through an interpreter.  We learned how to shave down the dialogue we use when speaking with an interpreter — simplifying and condensing our English to its most simple and direct form, so that it more closely mimics the language of people who are deaf — ASL.

Even though I know I did not cover one tenth of what was offered to us at this seminar, I hope that gives anyone that is interested a little idea what went on there.  If you work in the field of visual impairment or deafness or both, and you even think you might work with a deaf-blind person in the future, I strongly suggest that you either get your administrator to come up with the funds or you scrape them together yourself to attend the next conference at HK.  If you do, you will not regret it.

Anyway, here are a few pictures I took at Helen Keller and the surrounding area:

This first pic is of the conference room where we were tortured – er… instructed.

The next is a sculpture located in the yard of the main building entitled “Seaform I”, and which was sculpted by Alfred Van Leon.

Here is a shot of the front entrance . . .

. . . and here is HK’s sign on the front gate:

With occasional comments interspersed, what follows are the rest of the pictures I took during the experience that I have to share with you.

Hard at work in the conference room:

The next group of pictures is from our amazing trip to Manhattan:

On the train . . .

. . . and in “The City” — Unfortunately, I was so involved in the Street Crossing race, both when I was under the fold and when I was observing my fellow participants, that I left my camera in my backpack for the whole thing.  If any of the rest of you who took photos of that activity would like to send me a few, I will include them here.

And one final parting shot of a familiar Manhattan icon — the taking of which almost left me behind:

And to wrap things up, here are a few more pictures I took from the nature preserve right next door to Helen Keller.

After leaving the conference I needed to make a brief stop in Port Washington to get my patched-together-with-a-paperclip glasses fixed and after that was done, I buzzed back to take a drive through The Sands Point Nature Preserve located next to Helen Keller to take some pictures and the results are included below, along with a few familiar faces that I captured when I arrived at the beech.

That’s all folks!

PS: You may notice that I have written quite a few blogs on various subjects.  I just want to warn those of you who might be somewhat of the conservative bent to probably shy away from those blogs in the “News Rants” and “World Blogs” categories as they tend toward the polemic as regards the political right.  However, feel free to go there and I welcome any comment you make positive or negative — “I disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”  François-Marie Arouet.  You can get a brief overview at all of them by just reading my blog blog, which is a narrative index giving a brief description of and linking to all of my blogs — well, most of them.

PPS:  I invite anyone to point out Typos, misspellings or omissions you would like included.  In fact, if there is a portion of the event any of you would like to expound further on, feel free to say as much as you like in the comment section and I will insert it in an appropriate portion of the blog.  BTW I have already found about a bajillion little errors that may have been corrected since you last looked.

Definition at


noun Informal .

an insignificant, silly, or bothersome person: Pay no attention to that obnoxious little twit!
1920 – 25;  perhaps orig. noun derivative of twit ,  i.e., “one whotwits others,” but altered in sense by association with
 expressive words with tw-  ( twaddletwattwerp,  etc.) and by rhyme withnitwit
Definition from  dictionary Worldtake’s brain:


noun Informal .

one particularly annoying, destructive, form of mental masturbation perpetrated by twits.
Origin: Evolved from  TV
The other day I was driving my car on the job in a nearby town and was stopped at a street light on a cross street that runs through the main arterial highway in that town.   As I sat waiting for the light watching the cars whizzing by at the speed limit of 55 — with many of them exceeding this — I noticed a young couple walking on the sidewalk approaching this same intersection to cross the arterial from the other side of it.  As they approached the crossing,  I noticed that the girl was holding a hand-held device in front of her, with her thumbs whirring across the device and her head bobbing from side-to side in trans-like manner reminiscent of the self-stimulation “head-bobbing” activities I have observed severely disabled people exhibit at various institutions in which I have worked .  When they reached the intersection, had her partner not grabbed her arm, the girl would have stepped right in front of an oncoming twelve wheeler — and extremely loud twelve wheeler that this walking zombie was totally oblivious of.
When are people going to realize that these things are turning out nations young into moronic, self-involved robots?  Every year our universities and colleges have to lower their academic standard in order for these people, who can no longer form simple sentences, let along paragraphs to even be accepted.
A good friend of mine who is a Professor of English at a major university in Texas told me that it truly does get worse every year.  He tells me of how frustrating it is to grade papers of his students who — many who came to him as supposed honors students — provide him with such gems in papers submitted as, “I take it for granite, it is a doggy dog world”.
Starting in the 1950’s, TV began the process of turning our brains into mush, but with the advent of texting, things are getting much worse.  The simple fact is that although the brain is not actually a muscle,  how it becomes stronger — how one becomes more intelligent, is analogous to how a muscle gets stronger. Just like the muscle gets stronger with work, the brain gets smarter with work.  Walking around and typing in such phrases as, “OMG I just farted!”, with not build, but will rot the brain.

… do not in any way compare to the comments of rush about Sandra Fluke.  Maher’s comments about Palen, Bachman woman did not attack them as woman, but for their right-wing and often clearly stupid and uniformed comments.  Those two — The views of  Bachman and Palen, along with rest of the right wing-nuts are in my opinion themselves misogynistic.