Tim James: A Study in Alabama Politics

A little politics for you today, dear readers, courtesy of the Tim James for Governor campaign.

When I first saw the "English only" commercial, I'll admit that my knee-jerk liberal response was to fly off the handle and call James every derogatory term under the sun. Truth be told, some of those labels probably do apply to Timmy.

But, after reflecting on what James was saying and doing a bit of research, I've come to the conclusions that

a) James knew what he was doing here.

b) He will get votes for this.

c) Ultimately, he won't do anything to stop the usage of non-English languages for state documents and tests.

James knew what he was doing here just like George Wallace knew what he was doing when he stood in those schoolhouse doors. "English only" is James' version of "Segregation now, segregation forever."

Let me explain: George Wallace was no fool, nor was he as big a racist as he was portrayed to be. Wallace knew his electorate, and the people of Alabama who elected him expected him to stand strong on an issue they cared a lot about. Wallace knew the federal government could and would intervene to stop him from attempting to block segregation, so he got to score political points with his constituents by taking a meaningless stand.

James is doing the same thing. In this recession, people are worried about their jobs and livelihoods, so turning attention to recent immigrants to this country, people who are "taking our jobs," James can unify a Republican electorate that still doesn't really care for brown people.

Like Wallace, James knows he won't actually succeed in this crusade. If he did try to make Alabama's tests English only, he would cost the state millions of dollars in federal aid, negating the whole "It'll save Alabama money" aspect of his argument.

One of the first things new citizens must do in this country is find some sort of government ID in order to apply for job, find housing, and start their new lives here. They may not have yet developed the necessary English language skills to read a driver's license test or government form bogged down with legalistic, dense terminology.

We make accommodations for these people by giving them tests in their native languages to encourage them to continue the process of becoming American. A driver's license puts them on the road to becoming a productive, hard-working citizen of this country, something I would assume Mr. James, as a businessman, could appreciate.

Assimilation to our country's values and majority language (since it is not the official language... we have none) takes time.

This commercial is a meaningless ruse, designed to organize hate-based voters into rallying around a flagging, failing campaign.

It's more than a bit sad that this ad will strike a chord with some Alabama voters out there. For all the progress we've made over the last 50 years, we are still a state that is somewhat populated by a people who distrust or even hate people who look, act, or think differently from them. In some ways, we do still embody the redneck, racist stereotypes that the rest of the country has put on us for years.

Hate can be a great unifying force. The Know-Nothing party of the 1800s always included a strong anti-immigrant plank in its platform, and Strom Thurmond's States Rights party (Dixiecrats) carried 4 states in the 1948 election (Alabama included).

Tim James' commercial just reminds us that no matter how far we think we've come as a state, there will always be people and forces that try to drag us back to our intolerant, hate-filled past.

I pray Mr. James is unsuccessful in his bid for governor, but we shall see.

A Declaration: The Summer of Personal Renaissance

Sorry for the long delay in posting, faithful and few. Just haven't had a visit from the Muse in a good, long while.

Today, I return with a declaration, issuing a call to the literal tens of you who read this weird little thing I call my blog.

This summer is The Summer of Personal Renaissance. That's just a fact. No use debating it; it's been declared.

"But, Cliff," you ask, "what does this mean?"

The Summer of Personal Renaissance is a time for the rebirth of learning and the arts, much like the actual Renaissance.

Take some time this summer to read some great books that might be outside of your normal tastes. Try to expand your personal horizons to see beyond the familiar and comfortable and find the unchartered territory.

I'll be taking a journey through "Man Lit" this summer, a genre in which I am certainly not well-versed. I've already read Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and I'm working my way through Charles Bukowski's Women right now.

In that same spirit, take some time to pursue some new artistic endeavor. You never know what wells of untapped creativity you may find.

For that missive, I plan to take up some landscape painting - a favorite past time of one of my personal heroes: W.S Churchill.

The Summer of Personal Renaissance is not solely dedicated to mental and creative enlightenment, however.

SPR is also about making positive personal changes in your life and allowing yourself to have a personality rebirth.

Finally get over that ex. Lose that extra weight. Stop cursing so damn much. Develop a stutter.

Do whatever you think will bring you joy, happiness, and a more fulfilling life.

That's what the Summer of Personal Renaissance is all about.

There you have it, kids.

Go out and do.

Non Sequitur #4: A Quote from Roger Ebert

These two actually dated in the 1980s for a while.

Link to great Esquire article

“I believe that if, at the end of it all according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances…we must try. I didn’t always know this and I am happy that I lived long enough to find it out.”

Considering Ebert's long struggle with thyroid cancer, I think it's amazing that he continues to have such a positive outlook on life. Though his voice has been taken, he continues to use his words on his blog and on Twitter to try and make some small difference.

He's brash. He's unreserved. He's ... well ... Ebert.

We should all be a bit more like him.

Non Sequitur #3: Norman Vincent Peale and Happiness

"When I get up in the morning, I have two choices—either to be happy or unhappy, and what do you think I do? I just choose to be happy, and that's all there is to it." -Norman Vincent Peale, "The Power of Positive Thinking"

Positive thinking and I are very rarely seen with one another. I'm one of life's great pessimists when it comes to my own life; it's only in my ardent support of friends that my optimism manifests itself.

If I am pessimistic, expecting the bad to happen, I will not react when the bad things come. After all, I expected them.

It is only when you have positive expectations that you can be let down.

However, in certain cases, Peale may be right. I don't believe simply saying "I'm going to be happy" every morning will get the job done. Peale isn't on the level there.

In life, sometimes we are forced to choose between what will make us happy and what will make us unhappy. It's usually more weighty than that, with morality and ethics coming into play, but at the base level the choice really is happy or unhappy. That's where Peale's simplicity is right.

On occasion, we all deserve to choose to be happy, consequences be damned.

Note that I said "on occasion." Dabbling too much in the "Choose to be happy" pool flirts with becoming Hedonistic or suppliants of Dionysus.

The odd indulgence isn't always a bad thing; some vices are meant to be enjoyed. As Churchill said of Clement Attlee, "He has all of the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." All virtue and no vice ... fill in the rest of the cliche here.

If you don't already, make a choice and carve out a little happy for yourselves.

I promise, you'll be glad you did.

Cliff Rule #37

Cliff Rule #37: Follow your bliss.

For the record, I suppose I must admit that Cliff Rule #37 is a bit derivative, so much so that it was blatantly stolen from some parting advice given by Cher in an episode of Will and Grace.

Yes, I've taken life advice from this woman. In my defense,

she is the only thing other than cockroaches and Twinkies

that could survive a nuclear war. That's worth something.

While I wouldn't buy hair products from the woman, she makes a good point in that advice.

For years, I saw myself being pushed in the direction of becoming a lawyer, mainly by Ms. Liz.

Honestly, it made sense.

I enjoy arguing, persuasion, and theatrics, all of which are essential lawyering skills.

I'm ethically dubious ... yet another essential legal skill.

I did Youth Judicial in high school and was always a lawyer for my team, trying to blend together some high school version of Atticus Finch, Matlock, and Perry Mason all rolled into one. Other than an odd Foghorn Leghorn-esque Southern accent, I dare say I failed at that mission.

Even after I left my law-friendly poli sci major to become an English major, the lawyer mantle was still in the back of my mind.

"You'd be so great at it," the Inner Lawyer said. "What's not to like? Think of the money. Think of the prestige. You'd be a natural."

It bothered me so much that my senior year at Auburn, I actually took the LSAT, just to see what might come of it. I talked to some local lawyers and judges, nice family friends who were happy to talk to me about what I might expect from law school and the legal profession. Several offered to write letters of recommendation and make phone calls.

That was an option. It was dangerously close to being reality.

I thought about it for a long time, prayed over it, and sought counsel.

When none of that worked and I was up nights worrying, I turned to my movies to help me fall asleep.

I popped in "Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit." (What can I say? I love Whoopi and nuns.)

Damn if Whoopi didn't have the advice I was looking for.

I went to my mother who gave me this book called "Letters To A Young Poet" by Rainer Maria Rilke. He’s a fabulous writer. A fellow used to write to him and say: I want to be a writer, please read my stuff. And Rilke says to this guy, don’t ask me about being a writer. If when you wake up in the morning you can think of nothing but writing, then you’re a writer.

When I wake up in the morning, I think about reading and writing.

I wake up and pray that I'll be able to show others the joy and happiness reading and writing have made in my life, inspiring them to read and write more for themselves.

Through reading, we discover more about the world as others see it; through writing, we discover how we see the world ourselves.

I'm an English teacher, the batty kind that will make high school seniors memorize lines from The Canterbury Tales in Middle English.

I am not now, nor have I ever been, a lawyer.

The money would have been nice, but life shouldn't be driven by the pursuit of money. The happiness of doing a job you enjoy can outweigh the pleasures of money.

Ethically dubious though I may be, even I couldn't have made myself defend people or corporations I knew to be in the wrong. I might be a bit of a whore at times, but on larger moral and ethical issues, my compass points due north.

Any good lawyer has to defend the guilty as well as the innocent; that's what makes them good. I know me, and I wouldn't have tried as hard for a guilty client.

There are people out there who are destined to be great lawyers. I'm glad, because I say a lot of crazy things and I may need one of them some day soon.

Don't let the pressures of family, friends, and a logical path push you in a direction that won't make you happy.

Find what you wake up thinking about and do that.

Discover your bliss ... and then follow the hell out of it.

Cliff Rule #26

Cliff Rule #26: From time to time, a little self-affirmational dancing in front of a

mirror to Barry White's "You're My First, My Last, My Everything" is beneficial.

This particular Cliff Rule is one taken from the short-lived but wonderful David E. Kelley series "Ally McBeal." I'm a huge Kelley fan, so I tend to watch any and all

of his shows when afforded the opportunity to do so.

One of the show's main characters, John Cage (played by the incomparable Peter MacNicol) is a quirky fellow with many odd ticks and strange behaviors.

I'm not in Cage's league in terms of quirkiness, but I have always identified a bit

with the character.

Cage suffers from a distinct lack of confidence at times, and, in one of the show's

later seasons, we discover a method he uses to bolster his self-confidence and ego:

Self-affirmational dancing to Barry White music in front of mirrors

in the unisex bathroom.

As crazy as that looks and sounds, it does actually help.

We so seldom take the time to tell ourselves positive things.

We'll gladly heap praise on our friends and peers, but when it comes to saying

something nice about ourselves, we tend to go the self-deprecative route

more often than not.

Mirror dancing, insane though it may seem, reminds you that you should be a

person you care about.

If you can't find value in your own person, you'll be hard pressed to have others

see your value.

I also use Barry White's "You're My First, My Last, My Everything" when doing

my own self-affirmational dancing.

I see no need to improve on Kelley's formula, but that's not to say there aren't

other equally great songs out there for this little scheme.

If Barry White isn't your groove, find someone else.

Use Desree's "You Gotta Be." Use Whitney Houston's "The Greatest Love of All."

Use whatever song brings you joy and contentment.

But, seriously, give self-affirmational dancing a try.

At the very least, you'll get a good laugh and think "Wow, Cliff really is insane."

A New Direction

50 pounds.

It doesn't sound right, but it is. I've seen it.

Over the course of the last 9 months, I've lost a grand total of 50 pounds, down from my all-time high weight of 245.

One morning, I looked up in the mirror and didn't like what I saw, so I resolved to do something about it.

Here I am, 50 pounds lighter and better for it in so many ways. I've dropped a shirt size and a pant size. I can climb stairs without wheezing. I feel better. I look better.

I feel alive again.

I'm not finished with this project yet. There's still a ways to go on that route.

But 50 represents something greater.

50 makes me have to give up one of the most well-loved and used weapons in my arsenal: the Fat Shield. This will be difficult.

The Fat Shield is like family. It's been around since middle school, and it's been a constant companion.

The Fat Shield tells you to make self-deprecating jokes about your weight. They can't call you a fatty if you do it first; it takes the power away from them and establishes you as the de facto "funny guy." Ah, I know that role so well.

The Fat Shield also destroys self-confidence, giving you a self-worth that could fit comfortably in a walnut shell. The Fat Shield is a vampire, feeding off of your pride and leaving you with hopelessness and self-doubt.

Die, vampire, die.

I'm getting back to my fighting weight. I feel like I need some sort of '80s montage music playing while I do it or maybe get Burgess Meredith to yell at me.

With 50 will come more changes, non-weight changes.

Part of losing the Fat Shield means leaving the comfort zone, ridding myself of the old and familiar roles for the promise of a better, more fulfilling life.

It's time for me to live.

It's time for me to do.

"You must be the change you wish to see." - Gandhi

I know what I have to do.

How's about you?