Urgent: Call Senators Today to Support Sanders Single-Payer Amendment ( Let's Keep it SIMPLE)

Urgent: Call Senators Today to Support Sanders Single-Payer Amendment
To members of Healthcare-NOW!
Jeff Muck December 4 at 11:58am Reply
Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont introduced an amendment to the Senate leadership's health bill that would delete the bulk of that bill's language and substitute the wording of his single-payer, Medicare-for-All bill, S. 703. Under Senate rules, his amendment will go straight to the floor for debate. The vote could come very soon.

Please urge your senators to vote "yes" on Senate Amendment 2837 as quickly as you can. The time factor is critical. The Congressional Switchboard number is (202) 224-3121.

To email your Senators, go here: www.change.org/healthcare..._amendments

To call your Senators, go here: tools.advomatic.com/35/sanders

Sanders measure, known as Senate Amendment 2837, would create "a universal, single-payer health insurance system" that is federally funded but administered by the states. It was introduced with two co-sponsors, Sen. Sherrod Brown of Ohio and Sen. Roland Burris of Illinois, although there are others such as Sen. Tom Harkin of Iowa, chair of the important Senate HELP committee, who are likely to vote for it.

Never Gone Fishing

Some psychologists say that relationship patterns form early in life. These patterns are deeply influenced by our parents’ relationship. So I can only imagine that my father’s absence instilled in me a need for male approval and a penchant for choosing partners who would somehow never be fully present or available to me. The sting of unrequited love is so biting because it often hearkens back to a prior time in our lives. Perhaps it’s a derivative of the Oedipus or Electra complex; the heartbreaking moment a child realizes the love for father or mother cannot be all-consuming. I can certainly see the similarities between the relationship I had with my father and the sensations evoked by my first gay crush.

It was autumn of 1992. My freshman year of high school had just begun. Ever present, were the leagues of driven young adults traipsing across the courtyard of Martin Luther King Magnet School under the burdensome weight of way too many books. New clothing from the trendiest shopping malls adorned their bodies. In the crowd I glimpsed a familiar face here and there and marveled at the miracles Nature performed over summer vacation: longer limbs, taller gaits, wider hips, larger cup sizes and the oh so dreaded four–letter word: acne.
I walked along the freshly shellacked hallways with the false-confidence of someone too cool to be concerned with juvenile interests, such as who had the nicest shoes or what car mommy and daddy purchased them over the holidays. My mind was occupied with other things. Over the summer, a surge of hormones flooded my biology, turning my formerly baby smooth complexion a most disheartening pattern of ruddy brown mottled with reddish spots. The insecurity I felt was overwhelming. I sure hoped no one would notice.

During the summer vacation, I also was able to view a rerun of Oprah. Suddenly I became aware of how devastating my father’s absence from my life had been. Feelings of inadequacy and grief penetrated the core of my being. That’s when my light began to dim. My adolescent ego became even more fragile.

The school was still under renovation as it had been for the previous two years. I gasped as I caught a whiff of new paint mixed with the chlorine-like smell of dishwashing sanitizer. At least the cafeteria was still operational. Then suddenly it happened; my peripheral vision narrowed and like a heat-seeking missile, I locked onto an unfamiliar target. “Who’s that in the hallway talking to my friend, Adrian?” I wondered. He was tall and tan with sandy brown hair and the most sparkling olive green eyes I’d ever seen. Well-defined calves jutted from beneath his blue shorts ending solidly in a pair of fashionable cross-trainers. Oh and what a sly grin he had! Intrigued, I felt propelled forward by some unseen force. Strange sensations coursed through my body, my face became hot and sweat trickled from my left armpit down the side of my rib cage as my heart palpitated. “Oh why did I have to wear this silk shirt today?” I scolded myself. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be… a gay crush! As I entered their line of sight, Adrian said, “Hey Tehran!” to which I replied with an awkward, “What’s up, Adrian!” quickly making a beeline to homeroom, under the pretense of having something important to do.

Rewind to the summer of 1978---the year of my birth. Among all the new sights and sounds, there was one shadowy figure that would prove to be prominent in my life by his absence. I recall lying on the couch at my grandmother’s house. The door opened to reveal an amorphous figure. He was tall and dark with broad shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door. Instinctually I knew this man to be my father. Like an apparition, he vanished as quickly as he appeared. The sun never shone brightly on the relationship between my father and I. Our relationship would be filled with haze and ambivalence from that moment on.

Let us return to my freshman year of high school, once again. Just like my relationship with my father, my desire to be closer to Jeremy was overwhelming. Days and nights were spent in intense longing; however, I always maintained a safe distance. The air was different when Jeremy was around. Each moment was saturated with such intensity. Oh how I wanted to disclose myself and reveal my true feelings. Whether in the cafeteria or on the field, we were always aware of one another’s presence. My new beau was a succulent peach and I a weak fruit fly trying to resist my natural impulses. Occasionally, Jeremy and I would steal away for innocent moments of interaction. This was awkward adolescent flirting at its finest. There would be surreptitious knee bumps under the table followed by eye contact which lingered far too long to be merely platonic.

The school year continued in this way; a series of hits and misses. I enjoyed every moment though. It was such an exciting and adventurous time. I felt like Jason in his adventure for the Golden Fleece.
Suddenly, it was summer again. Dragonflies zipped through the air while hummingbirds savored the nectar of a willing hibiscus. At the end of the school year, everyone bid their goodbyes and promised to stay in touch. I was saddened by the notion of not seeing the object of my affection for such a long time. I consoled myself with the knowledge that it would be time well-spent. Over the summer, I would spend nights strategizing and planning our next rendezvous. I vowed to be more bold and confident when Jeremy and I met again.

I ran through the door after tennis practice that afternoon. My mother told me there was a message on the machine. Lo and behold, it was from Jeremy and some other kid. Oh my! What a fortunate turn of events. The voice that emanated from the box invited me to come with them for a camping and fishing adventure. Yes! Oh no… they left no return number. How incredibly cruel! How in the heck was I supposed to call and confirm, if there was no callback number? This was before caller id became a staple in nearly every household. “Wait just a minute! Was that hint of laughter I detected in his voice?” I thought. Could this be just a silly prank? I quickly dismissed such negative thoughts and returned to the land of optimistic delusion. The agony of our failed camping trip subsided while I continued to plan what I would do when we met again.

Sophomore year began in 1993. How excited I was. I had on my newest clothes and looked around in anticipation for his arrival. Maybe it would be like it was in the movies. Jeremy and I would make eye contact in a crowd and run towards each other in slow motion while a sappy love song plays in the background. The first day was a bust. He was nowhere to be seen. I looked everywhere. Perhaps, he was still on vacation and would be returning the following day. Days came and went still with no sign of him. Reality dawned upon me when I learned through the grapevine that he had transferred schools and would not be coming back. A lump developed in my throat and my heart sank to my stomach. No one would be the wiser. I couldn’t let it show that I was devastated. All of my plans would not bear fruit. What was a lovesick boy to do? How would be go fishing now?

The patterns of relating to Jeremy and my father, McDonald, were similar in many respects. I would wait around longingly for some sign of affection. The smallest indication was all I would need to blast off into reverie. I recall one spring day waiting for my father to come and take me fishing. He had called my mother and made the arrangements. I waited at my grandmother’s for his arrival. The clock ticked as I sat at the kitchen table looking through the window. Any moment now his car would pull up. I just knew it. The clouds floated lazily in the sky. The rays of the sun continued to shift casting shadows on the tree I was using as a sundial. I waited. And I waited some more. My father never came. We would never go fishing; yet, he and I would eventually dine at Uncle Bud’s over a dinner of catfish and other southern delicacies.

It simply was not to be. I should just accept it for what it was: a fun infatuation. Secretly I hoped he would call. He never did.
I last saw him when I was working at Wal-Mart. Jeremy’s appearance hadn’t changed much. He was still in great shape and wore dark slacks and a white dress shirt. He pushed a shopping cart while self-assured young woman was in the lead. I don’t remember much about the woman since I was focused solely on him. While I never got a close enough look to see whether we wore a wedding band, I had the distinct impression they were married by the hopeless look now cemented on his once care-free face. I wonder to this day if he ever thinks back to the fall of 1992 and regrets having not gone fishing with me.

My own personal comeback

Today marks the beginning of my return to university. Upon reading the course syllabi, my immediate reaction was "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?!" That's when I remembered that God won't put more on my plate than I can manage. So I move forward on this journey with courage. After more than a decade, I am finally back on track. With the support of my love, family, friends, and spiritual allies, I am assured of a positive outcome.
I truly hope all is well in all of your lives. It's been a long time since I've posted. I suppose I've spent too much time on Facebook playing games. :) Speaking of facebook, if you wanna connect with me there here's my link: www.facebook.com/montrobia
I've missed reading everyone's blogs and will try and stay in better contact.
Regards,
Mo

Baucus to meet with single payer advocates | Stand up to corporate power in Washington, DC for real healthcare for all

This is a wonderful new development. America's dissatisfaction with the broken health care system has reached a fever-pitch. Corporate greed and political lip-service will no longer suffice. Single-payer health care is the humane and ethical solution to an unjust system which places profits before people. Please show your support now by sending a message to Senator Baucus and the Senate Finance Committee. It's quick and easy.*
xoxo

Mo

*Just select the "Click Here To Take Action" link beneath the Youtube to send a message. The direct link is:
salsa.democracyinaction.org/o/13...n.jsp

Portrait of An Artist...Thornton Dial

I saw a great documentary about the modern artist, Thornton Dial. I must say I was deeply moved by his works. The sincerity and sheer genius with which he created art, is nothing short of inspirational. I, too, would challenge the elitist art world's insistence on classifying Mr. Dial's works as "outsider" or even folk art. As mentioned in the documentary, Pablo Picasso was also a self-taught artist yet many consider creations to be high-art. Hmm... Mainstream art world myopia, notwithstanding, Thornton Dial's artwork speaks to the heart. It possesses you and stirs the depths of your being---transporting you to an alien yet parallel place. If you meditate gently on his work, you'll begin to notice the faint smoke of the cast-iron stove greeting your nose as you cross the threshold into the world of the deep south. In this liminal space, you can virtually feel the red dirt between your toes. A place where ancient voices still blow in the wind, whistling through the trees on which bottles of assorted colours hang.

OMG! I knew I recognized Jake Shears

(he's the 4th guy from the left)

Ok..Jake Shears is a lead vocalist of the group Scissor Sisters. I'd always recognized his face but couldn't quite put it together until today. I was watching Logo and there was a special about the Pet Shop Boys---whom I adore, anyways this guy was talking and his mannerisms and accent and face all sounded familiar like we'd met before and I couldn't figure it out. I was wracking my brain trying to piece it together. Well what do you know. later on this afternoon, there is a Scissor Sisters special and I see his face again and I'm like , "I fucking know this guy" so thank god for Google.

Jake Shears (born Jason Sellards) was a member of my freshman class at Occidental College (Oxy). We hung out in the same circles and had a good time...but I recall thinking at the time. "Oh my god, he's like SO gay and such an attention-whore!" so I was a little stand-offish. Needless to say, I had issues at that time with my sexuality. I was out you know...but I couldn't quite get the effeminate chaps. I think he helped me get over that and I am grateful for that experience. And to be honest, I think I was more than a little jealous of his self-confidence and general comfort in his skin. Jason definitely "too cool for school".

Anyways, it seems he's doing well.I can't say that I am at all surprised where Jason's journey has taken him. I wish him and his band mates continued success!

Monogamy...what's that all about?

-----------Journal Entry------------------
Monogamy

How vital is monogamy to a healthy relationship? Not every enduring relationship has such a commitment and they appear to be fine...so it must not be a requirement for happy relationships. I've been on both sides of the fence regarding the issue of faithfullness. Maybe it's all a crock of shit. I recalled listening to a radio show discussing the idyllic romanticism of Bollywood movies. The speaker commented that monogamy and the supreme virtue of chastity was created by the lesser desireable men. Women would naturally gravitate toward the younger, richer and more virile of the male species. If not for the monogamy thing, ugly guys would be left out in the cold. Memes are incredible when you think about it.

Anyways, this subject has hit close to home now. It has been officially 3 months since I've been with my boyfriend and it is difficult for the both of us to be without a physical relationship. So we've got to decide how to deal with the situation. I suppose most of the evils in love come down to insecurity and wanting to possess another entirely. I must admit the idea of merging with another soul is intoxicating----something I've experienced regularly before. I suppose this only reinforces the idea of separation which is anti-thetical to my vision of oneness and unity.

So I can always love on myself. It's usually quick and easy. ;-) So until Marco and I discuss this topic in the future, I will simply allow my inner mind to mull it over. In the meantime, I'll begin reading a book entitled, "The Dangerous Passion- Why Jealousy Is as Necessary
as Love and Sex" by David M. Buss, Ph.D.

It looks like it will provide interesting reading. I know some folks are into the whole polyamory thing which I never quite understood. Although I must admit, I've never given it much consideration. I'm more of the merging with one soul kinda guy ---must be my Cancerian moon.

In my youth, I was incapable of separating sex and love. This tendency led to quite a few disappointments. As I've matured, I've been able to distinquish between the two. Although I generally prefer the love+sex combo over just sex.

I recognize how it's difficult being apart for so long. It certainly wasn't the plan however, circumstances have made it so. I, too have wondered how long I'd last without physical contact. I'm just ....you know...unable to articulate the feeling really. There's a pain inside...a lonely space. It's gotten smaller through the years. At least I hope so. I've tried so hard to be strong and not be needy or weak but ...

Maybe it's part of the human condition----this longing for one's other half. Although my intellect can't stand such sappyness. I'm so much more comfortable with reason and logic....when it comes to the emotions it can seem overwhelming. Yet I do cry in real life and when watching tv and movies...which makes me wonder about people who are cry at the drop of a hat during movies and commercials but seem incapable of doing so in real life...with a flesh and blood person not reading from a script. Hmm...interesting.

---to be continued---

Show Your Support for Single Payer Health Care Today.

This coming week, Florence Nightingale Week, will include the largest push for a single payer national health care plan in the nation's capital. The Senate Finance Committee is seeking to draft health care reform by May 22 and the House hopes to accomplish the same by the end of the month. The nurses are leading the charge this week, joined by doctors and concerned citizens. Prosperity Agenda will be there, I hope you can join us.



My arrest with seven others last week has helped to spark the single payer movement to a new level of activity. The best television coverage was by Ed Schultz of MSNBC www.prosperityagenda.us/node/73 Now, join us for the next steps.



If you can make it to Washington, DC below is the schedule.

Whether or not you will be in Washington, DC please, take this action today:

LEAVE A VOICE MESSAGE AND SEND A FAX FOR THE SENATE FINANCE COMMITTEE, THE PRESIDENT AND YOUR REPRESENTATIVES:


Call the Health Justice hotline to have a message delivered directly to your Senator, Representatives and the President. When you call this number 1-800-578-4171, state where you live and that you want a single-payer expert in the Senate Finance Committee Roundtable on May 12th and that you support a national single payer health care plan. The messages will be delivered as voice messages but will also be transcribed and delivered by fax. Call NOW! 1-800-578-4171.



Today, President Obama is highlighting the promise of the health insurance and pharmaceutical industries to slow the growth of the cost of health care. Can we trust these corporations that have been health care profiteers? Even if there promise were true - something the White House admits they cannot enforce - it would still mean nearly a $2 trillion increase in the cost of health care over the next decade. Their reduction is insignificant in comparison to the projected increase in costs. And, this is a promise from an industry that has not shown itself to be too concerned with the concerns of consumers. We need real reform not promises from those who have caused the health care crisis.



Please take action today.



Sincerely,



Kevin Zeese

Executive Director

Fearless Heart

The courage to trust oneself. Oh how much courage it takes to trust oneself, especially when you have spent the greater part of your life avoiding responsibility for your life and your decisions. Oh how much easier it can be to remain quiet, rather than buck the fray. Oh how much simpler situations go when one abdicates one's power for the opinions of others, however well-intentioned they may be. There is some "expert" for virtually every area of one's life. This world is full of information and it's coming fast...all day every day. Sometimes we just need a time out. A time to simply tune in to the real expert within. Who's been waiting all along for you to just ask.

It's amazing how one's words can mask the genuine intent. That's the power of communication and words. They can be used to clarify and conceal meaning. Imagine trying to get the point across to one's lover that you were in fact "right" about a previous issue. It's not so much about being right by making the other person wrong. It's more about seeking your lover's approval and acknowledgment. Oh how nice it would be to hear, "yeah, you were right!" in an enthusiastic tone. Your main underlying motivation is to celebrate a small victory---an acknowledgement that your inner guidance system was correct. It's nice to receive confirmation about one's intuitions and one's knowledge. Particularly, if you had a tendency of not listening to that voice and not trusting it---often with disastrous results. Somehow, the words don't come out right and the conversation turns into a verbal match of who's right and who's wrong. Then you decide that maybe a break is needed by both parties.

Nevertheless, it's good to come home to oneself. The joy that wells in your heart upon sliding into this fleshbot called you and truly inhabiting it....deeply. My heart is opening like a bud in spring. Oh and it feels so nice to love myself and give myself the approval I had been seeking from another. This sensation is overflowing at times; perfuming my awareness with the most sublime fragrances.

My eyes welled with tears....initially out of pain, shock, fear and anxiety...but now my eyes water with the simple recognition that I am home. I know it is cliche but home is truly where the heart is. What once was a massive chasm has now become a mere hairline fracture. That disconnect between my heart and head (And trust me guys. The head is good!) has begun to mend. *Deep inhale*.....ahhh....that feels good....breathing all the way from the top of the head down to the toes.

I now offer gratitude to the Creator, my Se, my ancestors, voudun, orixas and spirit guides as a brand new world opens before me. A voice inside shouts triumphantly, "I may not be where I thought I would be, but goddammit at least I ain't where I used to be!". That recognition alone, is reason to celebrate. I encourage everyone to take the time everyday to send love and approval to themselves and celebrate the small victories.

One,

Mo

Escape from the Zombie Food Court by Joe Bageant

I didn't expect to wake up this Easter Sunday and have my mind blown, but this is exactly what happened. Joe Bageant writes with such insight.

Finally, a reason to toss out this worthless television---a decision I've contemplated for nearly a year now. I am struck by the immediacy of his writing and his genuine love and concern for America and humanity in general. While reading this, the temptation to jump ship; go somewhere remote and live off the grid, became overwhelming.I'm not the type to back down though and put my head in the sand (at least not for long).

The ironic thing is that I am currently editing an essay I wrote for a scholarship about the "American Dream". Yes, I am finally taking that step to complete my undergraduate education---with intentions to major in psychology, of all things.

The following work made me question (again) my reason for resuming my studies. Is it because of an intrinsic desire to learn and grow? Is it because of a desire to increase my skills and therefore make myself more marketable and profitable to the corporate machine? Or is it some combination of both? Ultimately it doesn't matter at the end of the day. Life is to be lived and I've sat on the sidelines for way too long.

I encourage all of you intrepid souls who are ready to have your eyes opened and assumptions questioned, to read on. It's a lengthy post but worth the time.

be well and be blessed,

Mo
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
April 03, 2009

Escape from the Zombie Food Court

Joe Bageant recently spoke at Berea College in Berea, Kentucky, Eastern Kentucky University at Lexington, and the Adler School of Professional Psychology in Chicago, where he was invited to speak on American consciousness and what he dubbed "The American Hologram," in his book, Deer Hunting With Jesus. Here is a text version of the talks, assembled from his remarks at all three schools.

By Joe Bageant

I just returned from several months in Central America. And the day I returned I had iguana eggs for breakfast, airline pretzels for lunch and a $7 shot of Jack Daniels for dinner at the Houston Airport, where I spent two hours listening to a Christian religious fanatic tell about Obama running a worldwide child porn ring out of the White House. Entering the country shoeless through airport homeland security, holding up my pants because they don't let old men wear suspenders through security, well, I knew I was back home in the land of the free.

Anyway, here I am with you good people asking myself the first logical question: What the hell is a redneck writer supposed to say to a prestigious school of psychology? Why of all places am I here? It is intimidating as hell. But as Janna Henning and Sharrod Taylor here have reassured me that all I need to do is talk about is what I write about. And what I write about is Americans, and why we think and behave the way we so. To do that here today I am forced to talk about three things -- corporations, television and human spirituality.
No matter how smart we may think we are, the larger world cannot and does not exist for most of us in this room, except through media and maybe through the shallow experience of tourism, or in the minority instance, we may know of it through higher education. The world however, is not a cultural history course, a National Geographic special or recreational destination. It is a real place with many fast developing disasters, economic and ecological collapse being just two. The more aware among us grasp that there is much at stake. Yet, even the most informed and educated Americans have cultural conditioning working against them round the clock.

As psych students, most of you understand that there is no way you can escape being conditioned by your society, one way or another. You are as conditioned as any trained chicken in a carnival. So am I. When we go to the ATM machine and punch the buttons to make cash fall out, we are doing the same thing as the chickens that peck the colored buttons make corn drop from the feeder. You will not do a single thing today, tomorrow or the next day that you have not been generally indoctrinated and deeply conditioned to do -- mostly along class lines.

For instance, as university students, you are among the 20% or so of Americans indoctrinated and conditioned to be the administrating and operating class of the American Empire in some form or another. In the business of managing the other 75% in innumerable ways. Psychologists, teachers, lawyers, social workers, doctors, accountants, sociologists, mental health workers, clergy -- all are in the business of coordinating and managing the greater mass of working class citizenry by the Empire's approved methods, and toward the same end: Maximum profitability for a corporate based state.

Yet it all seems so normal. Certainly the psychologists who have prescribed so much Prozac that it now shows up in the piss of penguins, saw what they did as necessary. And the doctors who enable the profitable blackmail practiced by the medical industries see it all as part of the most technologically advanced medical system in the world. And the teacher, who sees no problem with 20% of her fourth graders being on Ritalin, in the name of "appropriate behavior," is happy to have control of her classroom. None of these feel like dupes or pawns of a corporate state. It seems like just the way things are. Just modern American reality. Which is a corporate generated reality.

Given the financialization of all aspects of our culture and lives, even our so-called leisure time, it is not an exaggeration to say that true democracy is dead and a corporate financial state has now arrived. If you can get your head around that, it's not hard to see an ever merging global corporate system masquerading electronically and digitally as a nation called the United States. Or Japan for that matter. The corporation now animates us from within our very selves through management of the need hierarchy in goods and information.

As students, even in such an enlightened institution as this one, you are being subjected to the at least some of pedagogy of the corporate management of society for maximum profit. Unarguably your training will help many fellow human beings. But in the larger scheme of things, you are part of an institution, the American Psycho-socio-medical complex, and thus authorized to manage public consciousness, one person at a time. Remember that the entire pedagogy in which you are immersed is itself immersed in a corporate financial state. Even if some of what you do is alternative psychology, that is a reaction to the state, and therefore a result of it. It's still part of the financialization of consciousness. And, I might add that none you expect to work for nothing.

This financialization of our consciousness under American style capitalism has become all we know. That's why we fear its loss. Hence the bailouts of the thousands of "zombie banks," dead but still walking, thanks to the people's taxpayer offerings to the money god so that banks will not die. We believe that we dare not let corporations die. Corporations feed us. They entertain us. Corporations occupy one full half of our waking hours of our lives, through employment, either directly or indirectly. They heal us when we are sick. So it's easy to see why the corporations feel like a friendly benevolent entity in the larger American consciousness. Corporations are, of course, deathless and faceless machines, and have no soul or human emotions. That we look to them for so much makes us a corporate cult, and makes corporations a fetish of our culture. Yet to us, they are like the weather just there.

All of us live together in this corporate fetish cult. We agree upon and consent to its reality, just as the Aztecs agreed upon Quetzalcoatl and the lost people of Easter Island agreed that the great stone effigies of their remote island had significance.

----More @ : www.joebageant.com/joe/2009...ourt.html