A: Bill, I’ve already written just about everything I have to say about same-sex marriage and family formation (see my July 20th response to Brent in Sonoma.)
Sorry to disappoint you, but my 6 grandsons are all alpha males like me—accomplished athletes and scholars in engineering and science, and my 2 granddaughters are the image of a 12-year-old Charlize Theron, and a 5-year-old Elizabeth Taylor—budding heartbreakers! But if any of my great grandkids should be gay, I promise you not to play God, because it would be His will, and if nothing else in my 73 years, I have learned to never argue with God—His grand design is my grand design—like it or not—and at times, I haven’t liked it one damn bit.
Me a romantic? Yes, I plead guilty, but a racist? Nothing could be further from the truth! (see my July 28th response to Sam, an ex-Biloxi Miss. Airman). I had life-defining formative years in both the Deep South, and within New York City confines. We boyhood sandlot baseball bums paid no attention to Jackie Robinson’s shade of skin—he was just another Brooklyn Dodger—like Pee Wee; the Duke; Campy; Gil; Carl and the other Boys of Summer. But then, I was, and still am a lucky Yankee fan, ever since we 8 year olds chose up daily sides, and permanent local ball teams--fair and square with an iron fist on the knob of our only pristine bat--my Joe DiMaggio 35-inch, 32-ounce Louisville Slugger, that I choked up 4 inches as a kid, and then one inch in college, just like Robert Redford’s hand-made “Wonder Boy” bat in The Natural.
That’s all there was back in the day—naïve and fair in all the our dealings with the great masses of new colored Southern folks; brown-skinned Puerto Ricans and Mexicans; milk-skinned Jews from Eastern Europe and Russia; yellow-skinned Orientals; and anyone else who happened to show up at our Statue of Liberty. That’s the way we Long Island kids were taught, by family and school.
Me an elitist? I think not, but an oldster certainly, with a sagacity that results from a lifelong love of family, God, and country, in that order. And, a family tree that dates back to bold Saxon barons more than a thousand years ago, when populist Baron Robert of Loxley (Robin Hood) teamed up with my York/Lancaster Barons; Fairfax, Throckmorton, and Wormsley--to challenge the Normans and force the Magna Carta's Bill of Rights.
After Hastings, my rebellious ancestors raised Hell in Northern England, allied at times with Southern Scotland’s Braveheart. Well, those rebel genes may have been dormant from time to time, but never lost.
Tina from Honolulu writes:
A: Yes Tina, my CPA tax experience has shown me that most people and companies at least try to cheat on their income taxes, because it is basically unfair—all 70,000 obscene pages of it at last count. It has become a graft-ridden, politically-motivated tool to screw the average American—and needs to be shit-canned, if you’ll pardon my French. Band aids don’t work when major brain surgery is required.
But you’re dead wrong that corporations pay almost no tax at all—they and other “mom and pop” entrepreneurs pay 80% of the tax bite, and oddly enough still manage to provide 80% of all new jobs—go figure! Answer? No one can erase the independent spirit we have been blessed with by God; our Constitution; and our sacrificing Forefathers, who risked their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. This is the heritage we have been gifted in this great land of ours, and we are not permitted to piss it away, into a Sea of Obama/Pelosi Socialism.