Category Archives: Family

Update IV: Falcon’s Flight Of Fancy (Farce Continued)

Family, Intelligence, Journalism, Media, Pop-Culture, Propaganda, The Zeitgeist

Is the following item a metaphor for the American state of mind or what?

Grown-ups, who happen to be parents too, had been building a balloon-like experimental aircraft at their home on Fossil Ridge Road in Fort Collins. “The family has described the structure as a dome-shaped ‘homemade flying saucer.’ These kooks kinda believed they had secured the helium-filled contraption to the ground. Kinda, because their 6-year-old boy proved them wrong, when he climbed into the loosely tethered thing and is now afloat in the sky over eastern Colorado.

“We’re trying to determine the best course of action,” said Larimer County Sheriff’s Office Spokeswoman Kathy Davis. “This is a first and we’ll do what we need to do.”

I’d say!

A “silly people in serious times” is how Pat Buchanan characterized the contemporary America’s mindset.

Update I: The balloon has deflated and landed. No child was found therein. That’s not exactly surprising given the heights the thing scaled. The nation is searching, chicken-little style, for the poor boy, son to Richard Henne … a known storm chaser, who might have done some extracurricular chasing too: Henne made an appearance on the television program WifeSwap.

Mom’s name is “Mayumi.” It is not clear if Henne was on the tawdry reality show to “trade.” The media is characterizing the family’s “belief system” as a love of science. The Age of the Idiot…

Poor little “Falcon” (boy’s name).

Update II: On listening to the adjectival approval heaped on this family and its lifestyle—quirky, interesting, spontaneous, adventurous, science and mysticism lovers—it occurred to me that the parents of a Christian home schooler gone amiss in an air borne contraption would be met with an entirely different reaction. To wit: What were these atavistic homeschoolers doing to their child? Deluding him about the presence of G-d and the ability to reach Him with a man-made device? Why was he off school? Should social services be called? Improvise…

Update III: An entire news cycle was devoted to following the imaginary “Falcon,” as he flew through the air. Falcon was eventually located at home hiding in the extra-terrestrial transportation box engineered by his brilliant father, who was described by some members of the media as a mad genius. Publicity stunt? Journalistic ineptness? A pulse of the people’s tastes and proclivities?

Update IV: If you read the storyline, as I tracked it above, you’ll glean that from the get-go, the news media hawked the Falcon-In-The-Sky story as though it were fact. All failed the most basic journalistic test. A lede written by an old-school journalist would have specified the What, Where, Who, Why and How of the story, and then left it.

It is, moreover, amazing that the authorities and the media began from the premise that Falcon was levitating 10,000 feet above them, rather than hiding somewhere on terra firma. This is an example of the contagion that is mass stupidity.

Update IV (Oct. 16): FARCE CONTINUED. It transpires that the “Silly Sex” had a lot to do with how this story was accepted on the face of it. With the same confidence with which allegations of date rape are accepted from women, the police Spokes Skirt had reported that there was no doubt that “Falcon” was flying high. News media then ran with this factoid without checking it. Apparently, said a male police spokesman, the family (amateur actors and all-round grafters) behaved in a believable manner.

This hearkens back to that famous American naiveté—a chronic incuriosity and lack of inquisitiveness. The absence of a learning curve probably comports with this eternal wide-eyed wonderment.

Falcon, the child, is exhibiting what, I would wager, are the symptoms of severe stress: vomiting during the press and TV performances his grease ball of a father has put him through.

Mark (Sanford) And Maria Forever

Family, General, Morality, Politics, Sex

Prurient, I know, but here are Mark Sanford’s love letters to his Argentinian sweetheart (who doesn’t have a spell check facility). The letters come courtesy of “The State,” “South Carolina’s Largest Newspaper.” They read like a Harlequin romance. But the poor man is smitten:

“The State” offers the following preface: “E-mails, obtained by The State newspaper in December, between Gov. Mark Sanford and Maria, a woman in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

At the time, efforts to authenticate the e-mails were unsuccessful. However, Sanford’s office Wednesday did not dispute their authenticity.

The State has removed the woman’s full name and other personal details, including her street address, e-mail address and children’s names.

McClatchy special correspondent Angeles Mase on Wednesday visited the 14-story apartment building in Buenos Aires where the woman lives, according to the e-mails, which included her address. A woman at the address answered to the name in the e-mails and, at first, agreed to speak to a visitor, but she declined after the visitor identified herself as a reporter.

Shown a photograph of Sanford, the doorman at the building said he did not recognize him. According to the doorman, the woman has two sons, one a teenager of driving age and the other younger. The e-mails refer to the woman’s two sons.”

———————————————-

From: Mark Sanford

To: Maria

Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2008 03:09:44 +0000

Dearest,

You are glorious and I hope you really understand that. You do not need a therapist to help you figure your place in the world. You are special and unique and fabulous in a whole host of ways that are worth a much longer conversation. To be continued …

Have been having a few email problems as I am getting email through an aircard at the farm, where access to computer world is more than tough. Please let me know if you have gotten my last two eamils (sic) so I know it is working in getting to your part of the world …

Another glorious day outside. Hope you are doing well, and am anxious to hear about your week. Know that I miss you. Unbeleivably (sic) hard to imagine it has been a week. Please also send your mailing address as I want to send you an insignificant something next week when I am back in civilization that I think you might find interesting given our conversation.

Want to write an indepth note with some thoughts on our visit when I know you are getting these emails. Hugs and much love. M

———————————————-

From: Maria

Sent: Friday, July 04, 2008 4:26 PM

To: Mark Sanford

Subject: RE:

My beloved, (hope you also change the dearest …)

I’am (sic) reading your last two mails sitting outside with a great seaview here in Ilhabela, a beautiful island near Sao Paulo. Have been thinking of you while watching the beautiful blue sea (a) great part of my day and remembering with a great smile on my face, the time we had spent together. As I told you before, you brought happiness and love to my life and (I) will take you forever in my heart. I wasn’t aware till we met last week, the strong feelings I had for you, and believe me, I haven’t felt this since I was in my teen ages, when afterwards I got married. I do love you, I can feel it in my heart, and although I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to meet again this has been the best that has happened to me in a long time You made me realized (sic) how you feel when you realy (sic) love somebody and how much you want to be beside the beloved. Last Friday I would had stayed embrassing (sic) and kissing you forever.

Don’t know why you think you bore me with the description of your farm. I am an urban girl but that doesn’t inhibit me from loving other things, specially if they are the ones you love. I was able to imagine the place with every single detail you wrote and had trassmitted (sic) me the love you have for your farm. It sounds to be a great and peaceful place and loved you had shared it with me.

Thanks for your beautiful words, I don’t know if I do need or not therapy but I have to find my new place in this new stage of my life. Life has been very generous with me and I want to return at least a little bit of what I have been given. I have time and think helping others who haven’t been as lucky as me will do me fine.

My address is (deleted by The State). It will be great finding at home once I am back, whatever you send me, I’ll keep it near my bed so as to feel you nearer.

Miss you so much… love you from the deepest of my heart. Sweet kisses.

———————————————-

From:

To:

Subject: RE:

Date: Tue, 8 Jul 2008 01:42:46 -0400

Beloved back to you…

Got back an hour ago to civilization and am now in Columbia after what was for me a glorious break from reality down at the farm. No phones ringing and tangible evidence of a day’s labors. Though I have started every day by 6 this morning woke at 4:30, I guess since my body knew it was the last day, and I went out and ran the excavator with lights until the sun came up. To me, and I suspect no one else on earth, there is something wonderful about listening to country music playing in the cab, air conditioner running, the hum of a huge diesel engine in the background, the tranquility that comes with being in a virtual wilderness of trees and marsh, the day breaking and vibrant pink coming alive in the morning clouds — and getting to build something with each scoop of dirt. It is admittedly weird but one of my more favorite ways of escaping the norms, constant phone calls and formalities that go with the office — and it probably fits with my weakness in doing rather than being — though you opened up a new chapter last week wherein I was happy and content just being. Last point worth further discussion. Afternoon projects had me outside and by days (sic) end I pretty much looked like a homeless person … but in this case a very content one. Enough about my love of heavy equipment and woods at sunrise …

While I was getting exhausted with one project after another at Coosaw work week, you were basking (I’m certain gloriously) on the beach..

Sounds great, hope to hear more about what sounds a great spot.

Will now finally get some sleep and write you a longer note with a few more profound thoughts tomorrow or Wednesday. In the meantime I send my love and hope you know I am thinking of you.. M

P.S. I do not want to raise expectations, when I say I will send something insignificant I promise I will do as I say! It wont (sic) be worthy of bedside placement … was just going to find the movie the Holiday as we had spoken of it last Thursday. Its music was pleasant and made me think of you — its mood and the notion of a holiday (wrapped up in our case over two days) certainly fit as well … (though our visit in some ways for me was as well less of a holiday than it was uncovering and realization of some things and feelings that again are worth longer conversation)

Had also hoped to find the cd of a song that played as I was flying home and also20made (sic) me think of you. Who knows if I can find the music … so all you may be stuck with is a long released movie — and if you put it by your bed I really be worried! Love you, good night and kisses back to you …

———————————————-

From: Maria

Sent: Wednesday, July 09, 2008 8:14 PM

To: Mark Sanford

Subject: RE:

My love,

I decided to rent a car and went by myself to the other side of the Island where it is located one of the best hotels. It’s name is DPNY Hotel and I find it quite interesting. I had lunch there in a restaurant on the beach with great seaview. I sat under a palm and ate a mixed green salad with grilled abacaxi (pineapple) and honey. in the afternoon I sunbathe and read on the beach. I ve started here “The age of turbulence” from Alan Greenspan which I highly recomend (sic) you. At five I left back to the small town had a coffee with pao de queijo (cheese bread which is something tipycal (sic) from Brazl (sic) and it’s delicious) read some magazines, walked around and finally back to meu Pousada that is hotel.

In the Island is taking place the sailing week and Rolex competition and this was the reason for choosing the place and also why luckily I am most of the time by my own. It may sound bad but it’s how I feel it. As I told you I shouldn’t have done this trip but I would have felt worst if I wouldn’t have come because it was too over the date, he is a very nice guy, great heart … but unfortunately I am not in love with him … You are my love … something hard to believe even for myself as it’s also a kind of impossible love, not only because of distance but situation.

Sometimes you don’t choose things, they just happen … I can’t redirect my feelings and I am very happy with mine towards you. Hope you have had a good day, guess with much work.

Send you all my love and goodnight kisses. Sweet dreams from down south. I’ll dream with you.

———————————————-

From: Mark Sanford

To: Maria

Subject: RE:

Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2008 00:24:54 -0400

Sweetest,

It was indeed a long day. I am most jealous of your salad under the palm tree.

Three thoughts in one note now that I have a moment. One the travel schedule is about to get real busy (and this distresses me for the way it may well make it more difficult to get your notes over the next few weeks), two unfortunately all the feelings you describe are mutual, and three where do we go from here?

One, tomorrow leave at 5 am for New York and meetings. Will think about you on its streets and wish I was going to be there later in the month when you are there. Tomorrow night back to Philadelphia for the start of the National Governor’s Conference through the weekend. Back to Columbia for Tuesday and then on Wednesday, as I think I had told you, taking the family to China, Tibet, Nepal, India, Thailand and then back through Hong Kong on world wind tour. Few days home then to Bahamas for 5 days on a friends boat for the last break of the summer. The following weekend have been asked to spend it out in Aspen, Colorado with McCain — which has kicked up the whole VP talk all over again in the press back home.

Two, mutual feelings. I have been specializing in staying focused on decisions and actions of the head for a long time now — and you have my heart. You have oh so many attributes that pulls it in this direction. Do you really comprehend how beautiful your smile is? Have you been told lately how warm your eyes are and how they softly glow with the special nature of your soul. I remember Jenny, or someone close to me, once commenting that while my mom was pleasant and warm it was sad she had never accomplished anything of significance. I replied that they were wrong because she had the ultimate of all gifts — and that was the ability to love unconditionally. The rarest of all commodities in this world is love. It is that thing that we all yearn for at some level — to be simply loved unconditionally for nothing more than who we are — not what we can get, give or become. There are but 50 governors in my country and outside of the top spot, this is as high as you can go in the area I have invested the last 15 years of my life — my getting here came as no small measure because I had that foundation of love and support so critical to getting up in the morning and feeling you could give and risk because you already had a full tank of love in the emotional bank account. Since our first meeting there in a wind swept somewhat open air dance spot in Punta del Este, I felt that you had that same rare attribute. Above all else I love that inner beauty about you. That gift of yours is going to make a tremendous difference in (The State deleted sons’ names) life — and in anyone’s life who is blest to be touched by yours — you need to rest very comfortably in that fact. As I mentioned in our last visit, while I did not need love fifteen years ago — as the battle scars of life and aging and politics have worn on this has become a real need of mine. You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that is so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificently gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curves of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself (or two magnificent parts of yourself) in the faded glow of night’s light — but hey, that would be going into the sexual details we spoke of at the steakhouse at dinner — and unlike you I would never do that!

Three and finally, while all the things above are all too true — at the same time we are in a hopelessly — or as you put it impossible — or how about combine and simply say hopelessly impossible situation of love. How in the world this lightening [sic] strike snuck up on us I am still not quite sure. As I have said to you before I certainly had a special feeling about you from the first time we met, but these feelings were contained and I genuinely enjoyed our special friendship and the comparing of all too many personal notes (and yes this is true even if you did occasionally tantalize me with sexual details over the years!) — but it was all safe. Where we are is not. I have thought about it and in some ways feel I let you down in letting these complications come into a friendship that I hope will last till death. In all my life I have lived by a code of honor and at a variety of levels know I have crossed lines I would have never imagined. I wish I could wish it away, but this soul-mate feel I alluded too is real and in that regard I sure don’t want to be the person complicating your life. I looked to where I often look for advice and counsel, and in I Corinthians 13 it simply says that, “ Love is patient and kind, love is not jealous or boastful, it is not arrogant or rude, Love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in the wrong, but rejoices in the right, Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things”. In this regard it is action that goes well beyond the emotion of today or tomorrow and in this light I want to look for ways to show love in helping you to live a better — not more complicated life. I want to help (one of Maria’s sons) with film guys that might help his career, etc. I also don’t want you walking20away (sic) from some guy (I take it the younger guy you mentioned a t dinner) because of me — and what we both have to see as an impossible situation. I better stop now least this really sound like the Thornbirds — wherein I was always upset with Richard Chamberlain for not dropping his ambitions and running into Maggie’s arms. The bottom line is two fold, my heart wants me to get on a plane tonight and to be in your loving arms — my head is saying how do we put the Genie back in the bottle because I sure don’t want to be encumbering you, or your options or your life. Put differently, given I love you, I don’t want to be part of the reason you are having less than an ideal week in what sounds like a cool spot.

Lastly I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never certainly never covered before — so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know … In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul. I love you … sleep tight. M

PS. I will make it a point in NY tomorrow to drop by a store and get that movie I promised to send your way … I am encouraged to know you will not keep it beside the bed least we have tangible evidence of two pathetic figures missing each other far too much to live a few thousand miles apart!

———————————————-

From: Maria

To: Mark Sanford

Subject: RE:

Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2008 23:22:29 +0000

You have not brought complication or are not bringing complication to my life, on the contrary you’ve fullfiled (sic) me with happiness and made me aware how you can feel when you love somebody. I can think with my head but only feel with my heart so I can’t avoid it even knowing is hopelessly impossible. The guy is the one I told you ,just three years younger than me, but I am not in love and won’t fall in love with time so I have to continue my way … be alone for some time and if I am lucky enough will someday feel towards somebody, what I today feel for you. At least you made me realized it can happen.

I don’t know if I did understood (sic) well about what was unsafe or not safe. Before our mails use to have other contents … if you want to go back to that and don’t write love things and so on because is not safe for you it’s ok with me, i (sic) love you and by no way would do something that can harm you, so please let me know.

I don’t know how we figure all this out and I am not interested in knowing. I prefer to think we’ll see each other again somewhere sometime in this life and in next. Will be missing you till then… . .

Have a great trip with the ones you love … they are the kind of trips you will never forget and for your boys will be unworthable (sic) not only because of the places they will visit but for sharing all that time with you.

Send you millions of kisses that will last till we get in touch again. best wishes from the deepest of my heart.

P.S.: I don’t want to put the genius (sic) back in the bottle because I truly believe in freedom. I never gave you sexual details but now you don’t need to imagine you can close your eyes and just remember. I’ll do the same.

Updated: Big Daddy's Watching You (BAB's Best Dad)

Affirmative Action, Barack Obama, Family, Feminism, Gender, Government

My thanks to the brilliant Dr. Thomas Szasz for alerting me to the sickening specter of Obama talking treacle in PARADE magazine. As the president vaporizes about his vision of fatherhood and his hopes for his girls, you get the sense that these kids must think they are at the center of the universe. In that, the president resembles most American parents.

“Too often, especially during tough economic times like these,” writes the country’s chief Idiocrat, “we are emotionally absent: distracted, consumed by what’s happening in our own lives, worried about keeping our jobs and paying our bills, unsure if we’ll be able to give our kids the same opportunities we had. Our children can tell. They know when we’re not fully there.”

In better times, before we began breeding self-absorbed brats, mom would say to the cherubs: “Kids, your father is worried. Let him relax a bit before you go in … ”

A world of wisdom was conveyed in the message Mr. Mindless urges against. Yes, children matter a great deal, but so does dad; he is not an extension of the kids, roped into making their world perfect at a cost to himself. (As we have established that mother is an entity entitled to her own fulfillment, why not father?) And yes, he bears a far greater burden than they can fathom. There is nothing wrong with a child having a sense of the weight of that fatherly responsibility.

Here’s Überdad, again:

“I came to understand that the hole a man leaves when he abandons his responsibility to his children is one that no government can fill.”

What does government have to do with fatherhood and family? In a better America nothing. In Obama’s America everything. The man starts from the premise that government can do pretty much everything. His own experience of state largess has not taught him to question his premise. Rather, Obama seems to have concluded that, affirmative action and racial privilege; the best jobs and career track the pigment burden can buy—these are all well and good, but not as good as being blessed with the love of a dad.

Its hackneyed message aside, Obama’s prose, which seems to thrill the low and high-brow alike, is uninspiring and mundane.

Update (June 22): Myron, a single dad, is BAB’s Daddy of the Year. I’ve seen a photo of the apple of Myron’s jaded eye, and she’s an absolute doll. Her daddy, moreover, is nothing like the country’s papa Stalin. Myron’s cherub looks truly happy.
Myron, you’ll be disqualified, though, if the young lady begins to paint her pretty face and talk in a mixture of Valley Girl and ungrammatical grunts (that’s a botched quote from “Idiocracy“). Also, do not deprive her of your unique humor and wit out of some sense of propriety. I inflicted mine on my daughter. The result: she’s the funniest girl I know. For your own sanity, you can’t cultivate a dull, deadpan kid, which is what the schools churn out.

For example: At my daughter’s primary school, back in South Africa, the women were in the habit of running what we called a tuck shop, “Brit for a shop in or near a school, where cakes and sweets are sold,” mainly to raise money. At least so I think. My girl, then only 7 or 8, wanted to know why I never made any cookies. I told her right away that I did, only my cookies were invisible. She was too small to appreciate the joke, and big enough to get furious at my poking fun at her. You should have seen the little Rumpelstiltskin stomp her little feet. Obama would disapprove of her mother big time.

You know how parents are always telling kids, “You are so cute I can eat you”? Well, in my home the well-worn expression got a bit of a twist. After telling her how cute she was, I’d get this serious look on my face, while looking her over, and say, “Hmmm… Juicy adorable kid. Maybe I should eat you, what do you say? Do you know how much time and money it’ll save me. Think about it….” Then I’d chase her all over the house trying to catch her. She’ll deny it today, but initially she was a bit nervous. Good fun.

Abuse in Obama’s book.

The joking had the tendency to backfire. When I read her Roald Dahl’s Enormous Crocodile, who sounded a lot like her mother as he discussed what kind of child was tastiest, she began to scold me, “Stop joking mommy; read the book.” I promised her that the text was real, but by that time I had lost all credibility. Each time the Enormous Croc expatiated on the hazards of eating children (“they give you tummy rot”), my child recoiled; she could not believe another character was as wacky as her mother. Good times.

Updated: Big Daddy’s Watching You (BAB’s Best Dad)

Affirmative Action, Barack Obama, Family, Feminism, Gender, Government

My thanks to the brilliant Dr. Thomas Szasz for alerting me to the sickening specter of Obama talking treacle in PARADE magazine. As the president vaporizes about his vision of fatherhood and his hopes for his girls, you get the sense that these kids must think they are at the center of the universe. In that, the president resembles most American parents.

“Too often, especially during tough economic times like these,” writes the country’s chief Idiocrat, “we are emotionally absent: distracted, consumed by what’s happening in our own lives, worried about keeping our jobs and paying our bills, unsure if we’ll be able to give our kids the same opportunities we had. Our children can tell. They know when we’re not fully there.”

In better times, before we began breeding self-absorbed brats, mom would say to the cherubs: “Kids, your father is worried. Let him relax a bit before you go in … ”

A world of wisdom was conveyed in the message Mr. Mindless urges against. Yes, children matter a great deal, but so does dad; he is not an extension of the kids, roped into making their world perfect at a cost to himself. (As we have established that mother is an entity entitled to her own fulfillment, why not father?) And yes, he bears a far greater burden than they can fathom. There is nothing wrong with a child having a sense of the weight of that fatherly responsibility.

Here’s Überdad, again:

“I came to understand that the hole a man leaves when he abandons his responsibility to his children is one that no government can fill.”

What does government have to do with fatherhood and family? In a better America nothing. In Obama’s America everything. The man starts from the premise that government can do pretty much everything. His own experience of state largess has not taught him to question his premise. Rather, Obama seems to have concluded that, affirmative action and racial privilege; the best jobs and career track the pigment burden can buy—these are all well and good, but not as good as being blessed with the love of a dad.

Its hackneyed message aside, Obama’s prose, which seems to thrill the low and high-brow alike, is uninspiring and mundane.

Update (June 22): Myron, a single dad, is BAB’s Daddy of the Year. I’ve seen a photo of the apple of Myron’s jaded eye, and she’s an absolute doll. Her daddy, moreover, is nothing like the country’s papa Stalin. Myron’s cherub looks truly happy.
Myron, you’ll be disqualified, though, if the young lady begins to paint her pretty face and talk in a mixture of Valley Girl and ungrammatical grunts (that’s a botched quote from “Idiocracy“). Also, do not deprive her of your unique humor and wit out of some sense of propriety. I inflicted mine on my daughter. The result: she’s the funniest girl I know. For your own sanity, you can’t cultivate a dull, deadpan kid, which is what the schools churn out.

For example: At my daughter’s primary school, back in South Africa, the women were in the habit of running what we called a tuck shop, “Brit for a shop in or near a school, where cakes and sweets are sold,” mainly to raise money. At least so I think. My girl, then only 7 or 8, wanted to know why I never made any cookies. I told her right away that I did, only my cookies were invisible. She was too small to appreciate the joke, and big enough to get furious at my poking fun at her. You should have seen the little Rumpelstiltskin stomp her little feet. Obama would disapprove of her mother big time.

You know how parents are always telling kids, “You are so cute I can eat you”? Well, in my home the well-worn expression got a bit of a twist. After telling her how cute she was, I’d get this serious look on my face, while looking her over, and say, “Hmmm… Juicy adorable kid. Maybe I should eat you, what do you say? Do you know how much time and money it’ll save me. Think about it….” Then I’d chase her all over the house trying to catch her. She’ll deny it today, but initially she was a bit nervous. Good fun.

Abuse in Obama’s book.

The joking had the tendency to backfire. When I read her Roald Dahl’s Enormous Crocodile, who sounded a lot like her mother as he discussed what kind of child was tastiest, she began to scold me, “Stop joking mommy; read the book.” I promised her that the text was real, but by that time I had lost all credibility. Each time the Enormous Croc expatiated on the hazards of eating children (“they give you tummy rot”), my child recoiled; she could not believe another character was as wacky as her mother. Good times.