Politics - Gun Control
The opposition I see all the time to the term 'gun control' is split into two categories. There is the irrational, which is not worth engaging in because it has no recourse based on reason. And there is the rationale that sits in a position whereby the imagination has not yet seen a path forward on gun control. Whether wilful, or ignorant, or both, is not what I am interested in expanding upon here.
Instead, here is a straightforward proposal about what reasonable gun control could look like, based on a handful of other examples in other nations.
Repository for my random, mad writings, and occasional pieces of art. Whatever happens, happens.
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Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Politics - Stoneman Douglas - On Evil
Politics - Stoneman Douglas - On Evil
Consider this: Right now, someone is doing a calculation on how much money it costs for the lobbying and marketing campaign to ensure that yesterday’s tragedy happens again. It happens so often, they might already have a spreadsheet for it. They plug in what state, elementary, junior high, senior high, or post-sec, how many children died, how many teachers, was the shooter black, or muslim, or white? They put in the guns the shooter was carrying, the put in whether the shooter killed themselves at the end. The put in a bunch of variables from the long list of shooting history
That spreadsheet kicks them back a number in the millions. That's the dollar value they spend on ads about 2nd amendment rights, on 'protect yourself and your family', on botnets and forum posters that 'the Democrats are coming for your guns'. On lobbying politicians to push their agenda.
That's the kind of evil we're up against.
Consider this: Right now, someone is doing a calculation on how much money it costs for the lobbying and marketing campaign to ensure that yesterday’s tragedy happens again. It happens so often, they might already have a spreadsheet for it. They plug in what state, elementary, junior high, senior high, or post-sec, how many children died, how many teachers, was the shooter black, or muslim, or white? They put in the guns the shooter was carrying, the put in whether the shooter killed themselves at the end. The put in a bunch of variables from the long list of shooting history
That spreadsheet kicks them back a number in the millions. That's the dollar value they spend on ads about 2nd amendment rights, on 'protect yourself and your family', on botnets and forum posters that 'the Democrats are coming for your guns'. On lobbying politicians to push their agenda.
That's the kind of evil we're up against.
Labels:
Challenges,
Change,
Evil,
Gun Control,
Gun Violence,
Kids,
Politics,
Tragedy
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Street - One
Street - One
She is in the market, two spread out blankets in front of her, books, and carvings. Corner spot, ideal. Room for people to stand or kneel down, look at things, pick up books. One fold out chair, come and sit. Emily. Her name, is Emily. Clear day, afternoon in December. Teenager runs up. She doesn't know him. Drops to his knees right in front of her.
"Your son went down. On the corner. Howe. Paramedics with him now. They don't think he's doing so well."
She gets up, hustles the two blocks to the corner where flashing lights and paramedics are feeding her boy oxygen through a mask.
Six days in a hospital she holds his hands.
Cold hands.
As his organs fail.
On the sixth day. They take him off the machines. He never wakes. They shake their heads. He never woke up. She never got to look him in the eye again.
Carfentanil. A new street opioid, fifteen times more potent than fentanyl which is the buzz word on every media person's lips.
You want to talk about how do we make lives better?
Here.
There are six overdoses a day.
Fifty deaths a week.
They're dying there on the streets.
Dying invisibly while you fight your war. While you talk about money. While you talk about power. While you talk about equality.
Her son's name was Sean. He sold cigarettes on a street corner and he slipped through the cracks invisible.
He was aboriginal. He left behind a wife and a child.
He wasn't anyone. And he isn't anyone anymore.
It's not safe.
Fuck you.
Help, Me.
She is in the market, two spread out blankets in front of her, books, and carvings. Corner spot, ideal. Room for people to stand or kneel down, look at things, pick up books. One fold out chair, come and sit. Emily. Her name, is Emily. Clear day, afternoon in December. Teenager runs up. She doesn't know him. Drops to his knees right in front of her.
"Your son went down. On the corner. Howe. Paramedics with him now. They don't think he's doing so well."
She gets up, hustles the two blocks to the corner where flashing lights and paramedics are feeding her boy oxygen through a mask.
Six days in a hospital she holds his hands.
Cold hands.
As his organs fail.
On the sixth day. They take him off the machines. He never wakes. They shake their heads. He never woke up. She never got to look him in the eye again.
Carfentanil. A new street opioid, fifteen times more potent than fentanyl which is the buzz word on every media person's lips.
You want to talk about how do we make lives better?
Here.
There are six overdoses a day.
Fifty deaths a week.
They're dying there on the streets.
Dying invisibly while you fight your war. While you talk about money. While you talk about power. While you talk about equality.
Her son's name was Sean. He sold cigarettes on a street corner and he slipped through the cracks invisible.
He was aboriginal. He left behind a wife and a child.
He wasn't anyone. And he isn't anyone anymore.
It's not safe.
Fuck you.
Help, Me.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Humans of New York - Obama
Humans of New York - Obama

“I first ran for Congress in 1999, and I got beat. I just got whooped. I had been in the state legislature for a long time, I was in the minority party, I wasn’t getting a lot done, and I was away from my family and putting a lot of strain on Michelle. Then for me to run and lose that bad, I was thinking maybe this isn’t what I was cut out to do. I was forty years old, and I’d invested a lot of time and effort into something that didn’t seem to be working. But the thing that got me through that moment, and any other time that I’ve felt stuck, is to remind myself that it’s about the work. Because if you’re worrying about yourself—if you’re thinking: ‘Am I succeeding? Am I in the right position? Am I being appreciated?’ – then you’re going to end up feeling frustrated and stuck. But if you can keep it about the work, you’ll always have a path. There’s always something to be done.

“I first ran for Congress in 1999, and I got beat. I just got whooped. I had been in the state legislature for a long time, I was in the minority party, I wasn’t getting a lot done, and I was away from my family and putting a lot of strain on Michelle. Then for me to run and lose that bad, I was thinking maybe this isn’t what I was cut out to do. I was forty years old, and I’d invested a lot of time and effort into something that didn’t seem to be working. But the thing that got me through that moment, and any other time that I’ve felt stuck, is to remind myself that it’s about the work. Because if you’re worrying about yourself—if you’re thinking: ‘Am I succeeding? Am I in the right position? Am I being appreciated?’ – then you’re going to end up feeling frustrated and stuck. But if you can keep it about the work, you’ll always have a path. There’s always something to be done.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Politics - Reasons
Politics - Reasons
So about two weeks ago or so now, my father and I had a pretty angry discussion about who to vote for in the upcoming election. In general, I have been somewhat dis associative of the election, I have a fairly clear view personally of who I am voting for and ultimately as long as people vote, I've been taking the viewpoint that people can make their own informed choices and don't need me airing negativity one way or the other.
That changed about a week ago, at least personally, because of the Conservative campaign of racism against the Middle East, the Niqab debate (which is ridiculous), and the ongoing campaign of attacking, rather than of valuing. There's a weird moment because you look on social media, you look on facebook, you look all over and Conservative supporters seem to be few and far between. But they have a majority right now. And they're projected to possibly win again. So who is voting for them? And why?
And then I had that debate with my father, and everything became clear. My father doesn't actually care that much who is in power. He cares in so far that he isn't taxed more. He cares in so far that he isn't paying for excessive public services. He believes in less government intervention where possible, and the Conservatives have positioned themselves in their propaganda as that...even though research has proven otherwise.
So here, I am compiling a list. These are the reasons to not vote Conservative, because it's not about name calling, but here are the fiscal reasons that you shouldn't vote Conservative. With appropriate citation.
So about two weeks ago or so now, my father and I had a pretty angry discussion about who to vote for in the upcoming election. In general, I have been somewhat dis associative of the election, I have a fairly clear view personally of who I am voting for and ultimately as long as people vote, I've been taking the viewpoint that people can make their own informed choices and don't need me airing negativity one way or the other.
That changed about a week ago, at least personally, because of the Conservative campaign of racism against the Middle East, the Niqab debate (which is ridiculous), and the ongoing campaign of attacking, rather than of valuing. There's a weird moment because you look on social media, you look on facebook, you look all over and Conservative supporters seem to be few and far between. But they have a majority right now. And they're projected to possibly win again. So who is voting for them? And why?
And then I had that debate with my father, and everything became clear. My father doesn't actually care that much who is in power. He cares in so far that he isn't taxed more. He cares in so far that he isn't paying for excessive public services. He believes in less government intervention where possible, and the Conservatives have positioned themselves in their propaganda as that...even though research has proven otherwise.
So here, I am compiling a list. These are the reasons to not vote Conservative, because it's not about name calling, but here are the fiscal reasons that you shouldn't vote Conservative. With appropriate citation.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Inspiration - Be Loud
Inspiration - Be Loud
We are oft reminded that we live in a shitty world, with shitty human beings. So when reminded of that, maybe the rest of us need to step up and be loud, be loud and say no, that we will not accept their hatred, that we will not accept their harassment or their abuse. We need to step up and say loudly that we do not condone their actions, that we are not represented by them and their hate, and ill will.
Be counted, friends. Be counted and bring more light into the world, and be LOUD.
This is mostly a post in response to the threats of violence against Anita Sarkeesian. Response might not be the correct word, but in support of the difficulties she, and many other women in vocal positions are in when threatened. It isn't right. I say again it isn't right that they be attacked in such a way, it isn't right that they be attacked in any way that threatens, demeans, degrades or abuses them. We discourse that we might enlighten, challenge, illuminate, and debate. We do not commit attacks upon each other because we disagree.
Freedom of speech does not preclude one from the freedom of responsibility of actions. I hope those who are filled with the threat, imagined or otherwise of violence are brought to justice.
We are oft reminded that we live in a shitty world, with shitty human beings. So when reminded of that, maybe the rest of us need to step up and be loud, be loud and say no, that we will not accept their hatred, that we will not accept their harassment or their abuse. We need to step up and say loudly that we do not condone their actions, that we are not represented by them and their hate, and ill will.
Be counted, friends. Be counted and bring more light into the world, and be LOUD.
This is mostly a post in response to the threats of violence against Anita Sarkeesian. Response might not be the correct word, but in support of the difficulties she, and many other women in vocal positions are in when threatened. It isn't right. I say again it isn't right that they be attacked in such a way, it isn't right that they be attacked in any way that threatens, demeans, degrades or abuses them. We discourse that we might enlighten, challenge, illuminate, and debate. We do not commit attacks upon each other because we disagree.
Freedom of speech does not preclude one from the freedom of responsibility of actions. I hope those who are filled with the threat, imagined or otherwise of violence are brought to justice.
Labels:
Abuse,
Bullying,
Change,
Feminism,
Inspiration,
Internet,
Video Games,
Women
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Grief - Waves
Grief - Waves
/u/GSnow once wrote something that I have read during hard times.
He said:
Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
Hope that helps. Im sorry for your loss.
He said:
Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
Hope that helps. Im sorry for your loss.
Labels:
Change,
Death,
Depression,
Difficult Times,
Grief,
Loss,
Love,
Sadness,
Writing
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Life - Change
Life - Change
Sometimes you close your eyes, and you linger there for just a little bit too long. A moment too long. And when you open your eyes again, everything has whirled round.
And everything is different.
And you don't know how you got there.
Sometimes you close your eyes, and you linger there for just a little bit too long. A moment too long. And when you open your eyes again, everything has whirled round.
And everything is different.
And you don't know how you got there.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Liminality of Death - Darkness
Liminality of Death - Darkness
My friend
you are a lost thing
But it need not
be terrifying
No color
no substance
emptiness
You are not stopped
by anything,
You are now at neither
a beginning
nor an end
Death has happened
It will happen to everyone
My friend
you are a lost thing
But it need not
be terrifying
No color
no substance
emptiness
You are not stopped
by anything,
You are now at neither
a beginning
nor an end
Death has happened
It will happen to everyone
Labels:
Change,
Darkness,
Death,
Friendship,
Game Design,
Liminality,
Poetry,
Writing
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