Choo Choo, Rage Train

          My grandfather is an interesting man. He was a sailor on a Navy cruiser and saw combat in WW2 and Korea. After his discharge, he got an education and became one of the first (and still very few) ceramic engineers. He runs a ceramics plant here in Alfred, though it's fallen on hard times economically these past few years. Even so, his field is so specialized that he's often approached to manufacture equipment and ceramic materials that are otherwise impossible to acquire. He still works with a slide rule, hates the Internet and cell phones with a burning passion, and forever and always fancies himself the ruler of the pride. Except my family aren't lions. My grandmother passed away when I was five, and my grandfather remarried some years later. They live in a very pretty, somewhat rustic home by a long pond. Alfred is a quaint town with two colleges – Alfred State (a tech-based SUNY) and Alfred University. Even the air smells great.
          My brother and I are sleeping on a wall-to-wall couch, and somehow it's the most comfortable thing in the world. After the aforementioned writing spree I slept for eleven and a half hours with occasional, brief interruptions. During this time I experienced what could only be called – with apologies to “The Book of Mormon” – a spooky Joker hell dream. It was one of those nightmares sans nightmare, where you should be more scared than you actually are. It was one of the longest dreams I've ever had and I've forgotten much of it, but one part is particularly vivid. I was sitting on a bench with several friends from Northeastern and home inside this church, along the wall. I'm at the head end; that is to say, the end farthest in. It's generally understood that we're waiting here to die. More precisely, we're waiting to be killed. Theoretically I'm first in line. A few times the Joker (yes, from Batman) stalks through the room, giggling at his plans for us. Maddie suggests just walking out the open door, but someone I don't recognize says that it would be hopeless to try. The Joker enters the room and says, “it's time.” Calmly I raise my head as he walks over to me, and he kills me in an indeterminate fashion. I don't remember what happens next, but moments later I'm leaving the church along with everyone else, alive and well. Amy and I happily wave goodbye to each other as we cross the grassy lawn out front. There were other, similarly uneasy sequences later on in my dreaming but that was the weirdest by far.
          My body is ready. It's political rant time. I received a present from my aunt Kathy due to my liberal inclination and current major, political science. Like most of my family, she's a wonderful person and also heavily conservative, so my gift was a copy of Bill O'Reilly's Pinheads and Patriots. Doing my best to keep an open mind, I decided to read the book tonight, but already I could see rage on the horizon. I blew through it in a couple of hours and when all was said and done, surprise! It was pretty rage-inducing. I'll begin by saying it was quite articulate and well written, relatively reasonable, and didn't bash Obama for the most part. I will also say that it contained a fat load of tripe. It wasn't so much the overall message of the book – namely, that Obama's policies will probably but not definitely ruin our nation forever. No, I was bothered more by little things in the writing. First of all, O'Reilly likes to call people “Patriots” or “Pinheads” based on his own judgment system. He then calls Bernie Madoff “evil” (doing bad things for great incentive does not equal evil) and on the very next page says that he doesn't judge people based on their personal conduct. He goes on to state (without elaboration) that some of the reasons that America is going downhill are the legalization of soft drugs, gay marriage, and the decrease of organized religion. Italics are my own. Later, lightly tossed in among offenses such as fraud and felony, he lists “is an atheist” as a strike against George Soros. He also conveniently fails to recognize the religious unaffiliation of many of the Founding Fathers while singing their praises. I'm not an atheist, but you don't need to be religious to have a sense of right and wrong. He even calls Lincoln “the best president” due to his obsession with keeping the Union together, not acknowledging that self-determination is a considerable part of conservative philosophy, but then ranting about overpowered government. O'Reilly calls the Far Left “emotionally damaged” while occasionally calling out an egregiously hardline right-winger to give an appearance of balance. He criticizes Obama for trying to keep a cool demeanor when speaking on terrorism “when Americans are scared.” Dear Mr. O'Reilly: A great deal of Americans are ALWAYS scared. They panic about (insert Toy Story clip here) eeeeeeeeeeeeeverything. The author also likes to say “as you can see” and similar phrases inappropriately. Example, paraphrasing from memory: “JFK did well in his negotiation of the Cuban Missile Crisis and [another example or two]. However, he used people deceptively and did some bad things. [The sentence was that vague.]  As you can see, JFK was not a great person.” No, I can't see. You gave no examples of what you were referring to, so your point is unsupported. Finally, O'Reilly's “Murrica: World Police” attitude shines through as he lionizes every  military officer mentioned, excluding George Custer, and calls America “the noblest country in the world.” He talks smack about Obama's refusal to commit to a plan to take on Iran and defy every convention of diplomacy, then slams the “punk writer” that “sandbagged” Gen. Stanley McChrystal, despite the fact that the general gave an interview that cost him his job. While I greatly respect the military (and considered joining myself), that kind of blindly nationalist rhetoric is infuriating. I don't want to live on this planet any more.