Five Reasons to Question American Values

I should have gone to Maine last week.

As I said in a previous post, I recently derailed a journalistic excursion to write about and volunteer for Maine marraige equality in Portland because I thought it unethical to mix business and politics. In an alarming mix or surprise and disgust, Maine same-sex marraige laws were revoked in the wee morning hours of Nov. 4, prompting a litany of unpleasant thoughts and feelings throughout the last 48 hours. It is not possible to express my regret for not having gone to Maine,  despite my ethical qualms because of what I know now.

The GOP revival of Tuesday’s election made me question many of the so-called values that comprise the adamently red-blooded Conservative party in America. From gay marraige to healthcare reform, hoards of feckless Americans propelled by baseless claims –many coming from pundits and lawmakers who should, by their nature, respect honesty and fact– are fighting tooth and nail against the very ideals they promote:  freedom and limited government.

Here are –as I see it– are the five reasons  why conservative principles are undermining core American values, more so than usual, this week. Let’s start at the beginning:

1) Gay marriage. Revoking gay marriage rights from Gay Americans in Maine (or anywhere) is criminal. C.R.I.M.I.N.A.L. Regardless of whatever political philosophy you subscribe to, voters being allowed to revoke rights from another group of citizens is not democracy, it’s oppression. It’s arbitrary tyranny from a moralistic, not Constitutional lens. Another person’s relationship –gay, straight, poly– has no bearing on someone else’s ability to live their seperate lives. Many of the small goverment-minded people that voted to revoke same-sex marraige laws UNDOUBTABLY failed to consider the irony of the situation. Is not the whole argument behind small-government to PREVENT rights being taken away from citizens? Yes? What if your guns, your 401K and your savings, your childrens’ education, ANYTHING that isn’t anyone else’s business was put to a popular vote? Would you keep picking on the gays then?

2) Chris Christie: Thanks, New Jersey for voting in the anti-gay Republican governor. It’s not like your state was getting ready to legalize same-sex marraige or anything. No Biggie.

Oh, wait. Here’s a fun fact: it might have. Before, gay marriage was a matter of “If,” not “When.” Now with the new Governor-elect, the future is uncertain.

3)Healthcare Reform: Really? We’re still arguing about this? The fantasmagoria of false info of health care has prompted legions of psychotic Americans to go all-aboard the brain dead “Tea Bag Express.” Today, they desdend on Washington, D.C. to rally in from of the Capitol steps, railing against the impending House vote on their version of the bill. Among other things, “Kill the Bill,” can ostensibly be heard emanating from the gullets of brain-cell weary travelers.

The New York Times from earlier today describes the protestors :

A series of spot interviews suggests that the protesters have come to Washington from all across the country – Texas, Ohio, Oregon and the greater Washington area. It’s a generally older crowd, many in their 50s and 60s, predominantly, white, and many self-identified as Christians. They are fiercely conservative and deeply skeptical of the government, many of them adamantly opposed to abortion rights.

Wow. Who could have imagined this seemingly angelic group of  individuals could bring about such a whirlwind of hate and ignorance upon the seat of government? Aren’t they aware the U.S. spends more on healthcare than any other nation,  private insurance companies that dominate the market chronically deny coverage and impose radically high costs to healthcare premiums? Aren’t they aware that when you factor in cost of living increases over the last ten years, Americans on average are making less money today than they were in 2000 (when you adjust for inflation) due to the exponential rise in health care costs? Perhaps you, Conservatives, should consult an actual resource? Here’s everything you ever wanted to know about the health insurance industry from Peabody Award-winning journalists at This American Life.

4)Rep. Michelle Bachmann: is terrifying. Seriously. The congresswoman from Minnesota is chronically guilty of misleading American voters on issues ranging from defense to healthcare. She has alleged that healthcare reform will exclude disabled Americans,  and that Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner seeks to abandon the dollar for a multinational currency. Politifact.com, the Pulitzer Prize-winning political fact-finding gem of the St. Petersburg Times, has not  been able to substantiate any her most incendiary claims to date. All said, she is offering a factual golden goose to everyone disaffected by the Obama White House.

In a recent conference call with conservative bloggers, Rep Bachmann called for protesters to use “scare tactics” against members of Congress in order to derail health care legislation. Seriously. An elected member of the U.S. House of representatives advocated against the legislative process in favor of intimidation. While Rep. Bachmann has the right and duty to vent her frustrations, she’s basically making the argument that her constituents should affectively revolt. Ask yourself, what would have happened during the Bush years if a Democratic Congressmen suggested something as radical?  They’d probably be legislating from Gitmo.

5) The Alternative GOP Healthcare Bill: Just released today, the GOP’s alternative to the Democratic-backed Health Care reform Act is effectively worthless. While it takes measures to reduce taxes for premiums, it barely addresses two of the most prescient concerns Americans have about healthcare: denial of coverage due to pre-existing conditions and extension of coverage to middle and low-income families. 

According to The New York Times:

The Republican bill differs from the Democratic measure in that it would not require people to obtain insurance or require employers to offer it. It is almost surely cheaper than the House Democrats’ bill because, unlike that proposal, it would not expand Medicaid or offer federal subsidies to low- and middle-income people to help them buy insurance. Nor would the Republican bill impose new taxes.

The House Republican bill would not explicitly prohibit insurers from denying coverage to people because of pre-existing medical conditions, even though many Republicans have said they agree with Democrats that the federal government should outlaw such denials.

What, may I ask, is the point of health care reform if not to address the primary reasons for health care reform is necessary? The Republican Bill is essentially saying we can battle pre-existing conditions and coverage extensions by NOT addressing them in a meaningful way. 

I’m disenchanted. I’m nervous. I’m angry. I’m having trouble believing in the same “Hope” and “Change” I thought were imminent a year ago. But I’m certainly not done fighting for the American Values I consider honorable.

I want people who love eachother to be able to marry. I want sick people to be able to get well without getting broke. I feel like these are just pursuits. The factions of people so opposed to their fellow Americans are hurting our national character and our collective soul. 

In other news, if you’re wondering about whether private and public health insurance companies can live together in peace, feast your eyes on Germany.

Oh, Quandary.

 

What does Quandary mean?

Today marks a failed attempt to go on journo-pilgrimage. I was poised to make an early-morning flight to Portland, ME this morning in order to follow the No on 1 Campaign, a group of activists seeking to preserve marriage equality in the state of Maine.

 

If they succeed come this Tuesday, it will be the first time the people’s vote to fails overturn same-sex marriage legislation. It will be historic and powerful day. And I wish I could be there and a part of it. However, graduate school keeps me on a short tether and I couldn’t justify the time away.

Which is an awful feeling. While I want to be present for the election results, I more want to observe and record some of the goings-on of the campaign for journalistic purposes. Unfortunately, most major publications beat me to it and I found very few interested in freelance reports from the scene. 

Also, it became apparent that if I were to go, I would inclined to participate, which is a complete ethical “no-no” for an ostensibly objective report. It’s true I would be going to report on those fighting for LGBT marriage rights, but I can justify direct involvement. It’s a miserable shame I’m unable to support causes close to me, but in deference to my craft, my journalistic integrity is critically important and I can’t allow any more poor judgements to ravage my credibility. 

This is a hard reality to get used to.

 

Simplify, Simplify

Recently, a professor told me every good journalist should always have 50 ideas for stories brewing at any given time. The exorbitant number seemed a little extreme at the time, but then I realized how many things I’m interested in, a number that ballooned exponentially during a recent three-week dietary cleanse that, among other things,  mandated I locate fun outside of the bar/ club scene.

In the absence of bar fare, I indulged myself in New York’s vast plethora of extracurricular activities. While fellow journalists were throwing back happy-hour cocktails, I began to practice yoga in the East Village several times per week. I read a lot more and watched less T.V. being that most television programs require that one be drunk in order to appreciate them. I even started rock climbing at a loft in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.

Upon close inspection, my portfolio of ideas number around the 50 mark based on one simple adage: “Go with what you know.” And my surplus of ideas is completely predicated by my interests.  As Thoreau said, “Simplify, simplify.”

This is what truly great non-fiction authors are all guilty of: being intimately attached to their subject matter while remaining somewhat disengaged. In Robert Boynton’s, “The New New Journalism,” non-fiction authors practicing a variety of journalism that pits them into the center of their book’s action are discussed and interviewed at length. Reknowned authors such as Pete Hamill, Susan Orlean and Jon Krakauer share with readers how their best-known stories often stemmed from their previous interests; they are able to write animbly and objectively while conveyinng to the readers why the subject has a pull over them. With Krakauer, it was extreme, reckless individualism. With Orlean, it was banal objects of little significance other than to a select few.

I’m looking for my obsession, the thing that I can’t stop learning and writing about. And I have several, but none consume me as completely as the aforementioned authors.

I’ve been reading Krakauer’s “Under the Banner of Heaven” all week and have scarely been able to put the book down, not because the subject matter –the grim account of the murder of a Morman woman and her infant daughter in 1984 by two fundamentalist Mormon brother juxtaposed with a complete history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints– is rivteing, but because the obsession to tell the story accurately and completely wafts from each page. Krakauer wants the reader to understand the subject completely and leaves no stone unturned in his search for history and context. It is a marvel of journalistic prowess.

I want to write books like this. And the key to doing so is to always stay hungry, to ache wholeheartedly for the story that no one is writing, but needs to be told.

I want to write these stories.

There is a Season

To everything, turn, turn, turn… blah, blah, blah…

Fall is perennially evoked as a season for change and renewal. It thinks that’s insatiably weird considering Fall is nature’s other barometer (disregard barometric pressure for the sake of metaphor) that indicates the joy, heat and fun of the spring and summer months is ready to die. In the past, Fall meant nothing more than it was time to renew my anti-depressants… one has to blunt the cold and shortened hours with something.

Gin gets expensive.

However, Gentle Readers, this year I’m using Fall as an excuse to reorganize and focus this blog.

Don’t worry. I’ll still be slouching towards Manhattan in every conceivable fashion; I’ll have achieved scoliosis before my trusty blog dies. But I am going to try something a little different. In addition to my chronic updates on the ways in which Manhattan differs from the Midwest (Ohio specifically,) I’m going to start taking time out to discuss the reason the often-ignored reason this blog exists in the first place: because I am trying desperately to carve out a career as a journalist. I feel as though this underlaying, ultimate goal is generally obscured and can takes no more.

From now on, my ongoing struggle to become a professional journalist in New York City with take a more active role in Slouching Towards Manhattan’s affairs. My day-to-day journalistic endeavors will be henceforth chronicled and made available for your scrutiny NOT BECAUSE IT HELPS ME SUCCEED OR ANYTHING, but because aspiring journalists everywhere should be aware (but not discouraged by) the landscape that currently exists. Jobs are disappearing, mediums are changing and people are consuming media in a variety of innovative ways. 

I would argue this is probably the best time to be a journalist. But it takes a lot more than it ever used to as well.

So buckle up, STMers. It’s going to be a wild ride over the next few months. As of today, I still have about two months until I graduate with a Master’s in Journalism from NYU. Until then, I’m writing, reporting, shooting, editing, freelancing, interning, networking and generally blowing my stack for my dreams in addition to sometimes making a nuisance of myself. 

Get ready.

Better Late Than Never: Gay Rights

Last weekend  in Washington, D.C. brought celebrities, politicians, activists and nearly 200,000 LGBT marchers together in the mutual fight for gay rights. 

I covered the event for The New York Daily News, grabbing quotes, color and shooting video. You can read my story here.

AND you can watch the video here.

(Oddly enough, several of the folks that appear in the AP/Getty photo at the top of the piece are activists form Cincinnati. Weird, eh?)

Waffles and Journalism

Back in Billyburg

Ahhh… the refreshing scent of city life.

The sweet and noxious blend of exhaust, falafel and Polo for Men that winds through the streets of Manhattan like a God’s breathe in the morning. I’m back. 

I’ve actually been back for nearly three weeks, but four days after my return, I was whisked off to the clammy Neighbor to the North, spending just over a week in sunny, spectacular and astoundingly gay Montreal. I was there for the National Lesbian and Gay Journalism Association Convention where I was a member of the NLGJA student project, an intrepid team of eight student journalists from across the States. Our charge was to build and provide content for the NLGJA Convention website, writing stories, shooting video and capturing audi for a multimedia extravaganza of LGBT-oriented journalism. 

While, I interviewed Canadian gays in the “gayborhood” around St. Catherine Street, wrote an short piece about Canadian Health Care for the LGBT community, and I also produced a podcast on an all male, nude yoga class.

Oh, I made a lot of friends. Did a lot of time. I stole the T.V…

Now I’m back in school. The faces are different, the work week is more chaotic and few friendly faces did not return for the final semester. Scheduling conflicts have obliterated any chances of getting my old work/study job back, but that frees me up to spend LOTS more time outside of Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute. Perhaps I’ll be a waiter, a secretary or maybe even a chartreuse.  

I’m sad that my waffle slinging couldn’t move across state lines:(

While I missed New York this summer, I was very industrious during my midwestern travels. I published my first feature story in Cincinnati Magazine, I recently finished my a 2,000 word article on the Great Cincinnati Atheist community, and I’m currently putting together an audio piece for WVXU, the NPR affiliate in Cincinnati, on the Jean-Francios Flechet at Findlay Market’s Taste from Belgium.

But now that I’m back in New York, I’m steadily getting busier and busier, overflowing with ideas, many of them too outlandish to mention.

So stay tuned.

Daily Midwestie!

 

Jean-Francois Flechet, proprietor of Taste From Belgium at Findlay Market, prepares an authentic Belgian waffle.

Midwestern Church: The Yard Sale

When in Ohio, do like the Ohioans do.

And what Ohioans do in the stagnant, damp, corn-girdled heat of August is gather on their front lawns with the all the crap they’ve accumulated over the last decade, hoping desperately to get rid of that second toaster or vintage Queen t-shirts and make an extra buck.

It would be imprudent of me not to engage in this time-honored behavior just because I’m technically just visiting my old Ohio home. My Brooklyn address does not exempt me from nourishing my roots.

So I will be taking part in the annual Northside Community Yardsale next Saturday in an effort to sell some of the superfluous rubbish that’s taking over my apartment, such VHS tapes (Mary-Kate and Ashley’s Sleepover Party, anyone?), CDs (iTunes now gets all my money), and, of course, the every-meal of champions, fresh-baked bread by your truly (I was Betty “Effin” Crocker in another life, I swear).

The yard sale really is integral to the fabric of communities, like the set-in wine stain that can’t be Oxy-cleaned off. It grants neighbors and communities the opportunity to get to know one another through the exploration of their intimate belongings. It’s benign, yet intensely personal. I was rummaging through my old Goth clothes last night and was having a difficulties deciding what to part with. While I will never wear my fur-lined ladies’ trench coat ever again, the idea of letting out of my sight was terrifying for a few moments.

Someone else could have possession of a relic of my former lives. It could transcend me and begin anew with another. It’s like breaking up with your past and realizing that you can’t remain friends afterward.

It’s sad, yet tacitly liberating too.

I made $1 today.

Yes, I know. It’s been awhile since my last update.

And I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to neglect you, Gentle Readers. Life recently has been a hodgepodge of various shit storms, profound setbacks and a deluge of projects that keep me occupied well past my usual bedtime. In the last month, I returned from a four-week European jaunt, had pitches accepted and pseudo-rejected from several local and national publications, gained roughly 10 pounds and turned a quarter-of-a-century years old. Things have been a tad busy/ stupid in recent days.

But don’t let my latter day lethargy fool you. I’m back with the best of intentions of chronically updating you with my current schemes, adventures and misdeeds in my midwestern/ manhattan existence. While in the Midwest, I’ll be tacking advantage of my hometown’s promixity to kooky and interesting stories about rugged, bizarre midwestern life, things one has a hard time covering in Manhattan.

In the coming weeks, I’ll be visiting a counter-culture summer camp in Michigan, an elementary school friend in Nashville who was recently kicked out of Army as a result of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” chronicling an important recession/ summer pastime i.e. The Community-wide yardsale  and producing a small video feature entitles “The Life of a Waffle,” a poignant love story about a a Belgian waffle master and his passion for bringing waffely goodness to Cincinnati.

These projects are  few amongst the torrent of other ideas I’m trying to make money off of. Journalism –as I live it– seems to be little more than a omnipresent scheme to earn cash from strange ideas. Since being home, I’ve refused to get a regular job, surviving entirely on sporadic freelance paychecks, bread-making and general craftiness.

It’s forced me to live cheaper in every conceivable way: I haven’t bought clothes in months (and I’m wearing clothes I haven’t worn since High School to avoid paying for laundry,) I survive almost exclusively on farmer’s market’s low, low vegetable prices and I’ve become an internet nomad, siphoning services from unsuspecting neighbors and businesses. 

I buy cheap wine and tear off the labels, pretending I paid handsomely for it.

I am thrift.

Today, I made exactly $1 from a stack of comic books I unearthed from the bowels of my bedroom closet. It’s more money than I’ve made in two consecutive weeks. It’s pathetic, but it is an interesting experiment.

I’m discovering what is superfluous about my own everyday existence and the results are fascinating.