Over the Mountains

Sorry for the light posting - I was out of town all last week working in Walla Walla, WA (a place I am told by a native drysider should always be referred to as "the town so nice they named it twice") and was off the net. I have a crazy busy day tomorrow than then should be back on schedule.

I did want to make a brief observation on the latest news-time obsession; the murder of young Trayvon Martin.

Y'know what the really messed up part was?

That the shooter wasn't immediately escorted to the Crossbar Hotel.

Because I'll give you all the rest of the "backstory" here. You know what I'm talking about, right? All the things this is supposed to "tell" us about the U.S. circa 2012?

The perception of young urban black guys as dangerous and scary. The possobility that young urban black guys ARE dangerous and scary. The degree to which this makes it dangerous to be a young black guy. The throwaway quality of life as a young black guy.

Race. RacISM. Class. Bad Laws. Inequal Justine Under Bad Laws. Republicans vs. Democrats.

The fucked-up-ness of writing a law that makes it possible for a knucklehead with a weapon to, in effect, go looking for a fight. The overarching place that race and class plays in American life. The sociology of race, class, weapons, and American urban life. The propensity for places like Florida, where being an ignernt goober is no disqualification for public life, to make fucked-up laws that enable knuckleheads with a 'tude to pull a hogleg whenever they feel disrespected, or spooked, or like scaring somebody, or for no goddamn reason at all.

Let's just take all those as a given, K?

But even given all this, the fucked up part of this story, for me, doesn't come until the local constable doesn't even attempt to take the shooter downtown and book him for manslaughter.

At least.

Because, as we discussed earlier about the Afghan shooter, when you don't do that, you make it obvious to everyone that the dead guy (or women, or kids) doesn't really matter to you.

And when you do that you prove that you've forgotten that the important thing is that the village remained quiet.

Let's thing about what the law is for; what it's "supposed to be for, and what it really IS for.

We all like to cling to the ideal that the law is ground rules for our society; the lines on the playing field. And how we're supposed to be all "equality of opportunity", liberty, and justice for all. But, look, we already know that there are two laws in this country, or, rather, one law that, in its impartial majesty, forbids rich and poor alike to steal bread and sleep under bridges.

Steal a car, steal a stereo, and you'll probably end up in jail.

Steal an entire pension fund, steal a family's house, steal a company and run it into the ground and put thousands of people out of work?

You'll probably get a job on the Securities and Exchange Commission and never lose a night's sleep.

So we've pretty much admitted by our actions that we don't really CARE about that part of our laws.

But the other part of what the law is for is to keep everyone inside society's fences. To maintain just enough public order that we don't get convinced we're in some sort of Hobbsean war of all against all and then start acting like that. To maintain "public order" in the same way that the rules of engagement of an Army of Occupation are there to convince the occupied that doing what the foreigner tells them to is healthier than planting mines in the roads at night.

So, sure, I'd like my country to actually have one law for rich and poor, powerful and powerless. I'd like to believe that the magnificent words over the courthouse door "Equal Justice Under Law" were true. I'd like for there to be good work, decent work, living-wage work for everyone who wants it. I'd like for my country to be the best it can for the most people it can.

But I'll settle for just enough equality to keep the village quiet.

Because unlike a lot of people - unlike nearly all of our wealthy white folks, the people who are benefiting from the kind of nation where people like Trayvon Martin are, and are shown to be, disposable - I remember what happened the LAST time this country was so open an oligarchy that even the dimmest prole could figure out that both ends of the stick he or she was going to get were dirty.Yeah, that.

We forget that the Gilded Age and the Ragtime Era had a scary edge to them, because the people on the Outside knew they had no way in and many of them decided to kick the thing to pieces rather than put up with that. We had a president assassinated, the first one outside wartime. Anarchists and Reds were under every patrician's bed, and armies of Pinkertons and goons - and the real Army - was employed to "fight them". This damn situation lasted until the Depression, when the New Dealers forced some of the oligarchs to bend a little to stave off what happened to Italy in 1922 and Russia in 1917.

And I'm on the wrong side, here: the kind of people I was then were the ones shot down by troops breaking strikes, beaten by company goons, lynched by American Legion thugs, and railroaded by corrupt judges. They were shot by people very like this Zimmerman who shot the kid Martin; because they didn't like the way my sort of people; poor people, union people, working-class people, looked.

Like I've said here before; the United States was founded as a sort of oligarchy and can work perfectly well as one.

But it's not much fun unless you're an oligarch and, can you tell me, sitting there reading this, that you feel lucky?

I didn't think so.

So while I'm sorry for Martin, his family, nice black guys everywhere, and my country in that we've made it possible for jackholes like Zimmerman to exist, because of who I am and where I am I have a vested interest in keeping the lid on enough to keep my society from flying apart.

So, for me, the important thing here, now, is that this shooter goes to jail. Goes to trial. Gets convicted - assuming the evidence shows that he did what he seems to have done, pursued an unarmed man into a fight and then killed him - and spends a long, long time in prison. Hell, we all have an interest in seeing that the people who use bloody-handed methods to emphasize the fucked up things we believe swiftly take the long step to the end of the short rope that German soldier took in Pont-avec-Crap back in 1878.

Because if we don't; if we convince enough people that the law is for you and not for me, that they might as well be hung for what they did do rather than what they didn't and some ignernt asshole thinks they did...well...

...then the village becomes unquiet and we've taken the first steps up the pass over the mountains of madness.

"What an idiot."

Back in the day I was a hell of a baseball fan.

I could tell you who platooned at catcher for the 1971 Washington Senators (Paul Casanova and Jim French). I could tell you who Moonlight Graham was before the excrable "Field of Dreams" fantasy made him a household word. I read Bill James and honestly cared who went into the Hall of Fame.

Well, I grew up, sort of, and moved away from baseball, developing a passion for soccer, a love-hate relationship with lacrosse (love the game, hate the "leagues" that play it) and a secret fascination with oddball, nonprofessional sports like curling and roller derby.

But there are moments when baseball rears up and slaps me in the head with why I stopped following the game.

The steroids had something to do with it; I knew...hell, everybody watching the game knew...that Sosa and McGwire didn't get those biceps drinking their Tiger's Milk. The cheap homers and the return of what Bill James called "sit-on-your-ass" baseball, where both teams and the fans sat around and waited to see whose pitcher would hang one in the other teams' slugger's wheelhouse, had something to do with it. The loathsome antics of the owners, a bunch of spoiled rich men who finally discovered that they didn't have to put up with some crotchety Commissioner telling them what they couldn't do by placing their own bobo in the Commissioner's chair, had a LOT to do with it.

But mostly it was stuff like this that killed my affection for the game.

This little bit of nonsense is a perfect illustration of the way I feel about professional baseball as a sport and am beginning to feel about my country as a nation.

Here's a perfectly simple situation; someone makes a mistake. Call it invading a foreign country that presented no threat to us. Call it letting a private company take charge of an environmental disaster of its own making. Call it letting the same charlatans who swindled each other and the public continue their monte games with the full and complete guarantee of the Federal Reserve. Call it blowing a call at first and fucking up a pitcher's perfect game.The solution is obvious; take charge. The "rules" and "traditions" of baseball are not sacred. The "free market" is not a religion. The "respect" and "dignity" of a nation, or a nation's leaders, are not worth a pint of pig piss when compared to human lives and individual rights.

So you, the leader, the "Commissioner", step in, reverse the call, make the official end of the game the out Jason Donald made, end of story.

Imagine if all those OTHER choices were so simple! That the destruction of the north Gulf of Mexico could simply be undone. That the tens of thousands of deaths and billions in damage and destruction could be just revived and reconstructed as if they'd never happened. That the jobs and wealth of all those of us fucked over by the moronic "Master of the Universe" could be redeposited into our IRAs and mortgages and bank accounts.

But this worm, this flyspeck, this insignificant, niddering, wretched simulacrum of a man, this Selig, this sock-puppet for his wealthy cronies, this echoing, empty tube of encrusted toilet tissue says "that Major League Baseball will look at expanded replay and umpiring, but (would not) specifically address umpire Jim Joyce's botched call Wednesday night."

In other words, the "rules", the arbitrary laws that we ourselves set up, are more important to Selig and men like him than taking action outside the "rules" to correct an obvious error and right a wrong done to real people in real places. Better than a real man should be denied than a powerful organization should be seen to be in - or admit to, and correct its - error.

Conformity trumps neccessity. Complacency trumps action. Image trumps reality.

And, yeah, I'm kind of done with that, too.

A vigorous, active, healthy society makes rules that make sense for its daily lives, actively question and live to those rules, and when those rules conflict with good sense, health, and vigor,, temporarily abrogates or even permanently changes those rules. When a society falls to blindly "following the rules", when the form of things matter more than the function, when rules becomre more important than human lives, or reality, or sense?That's a problem. That's a society with no outs, the bases loaded and the game tied, deep in the late innings, with a tired pitcher and a manager who is out of relievers.

I can't help but see this as a snapshot of a game, and a society, that are looking perilously close to walking off the field hung with an "L".