“Equality” – An Evil Definition

What qualities are we trying to “E?”  Who decides “equal?”  How does anyone improve the qualities of another person?

When a political party adds a word to their platform, shouldn’t they define it?  Does anyone believe our human race was advanced and improved by denying the qualities that surpassed “normal” or “average?”

I cannot seem to find anyone anywhere who can or will say exactly what they mean by “equal,” or how “equality” will be achieved.

If fostering equality means reducing those who excel by taxation or regulation, what will that accomplish for the “unequals?”

What politicians are ready to point at individual citizens and say, “You are unequal, you are above equal, you are exactly equal.”?

Am I supposed to be so ignorant that I do not interpret this criminalization of success as a naked call for federal government stripping resources from those with money to finance distributions of resources to those who are “below equal.”?  Do I want to live in a communist society where everything is artificial, and nothing works?  No.

Millions of people have risked life and limb to get to the place where they are unencumbered by lack of opportunity – the USA.  They are here to improve their chances for a better life for themselves and their children.  They see that here they have a chance that their efforts will pay off.  Do they require a perfect environment?  Do they insist that the government remove the obstacles to their accomplishments?  No.

Oh, and by the way, where is the campaign for GLOBAL equality?  (Silence)  Hmmm, so giving up what we have that exceeds what other people have in other parts of the world is different.  Hypocritical at best.

Kurt Vonnegut was prescient in a short story he wrote in 1961, (just as George Orwell was in 1944 when he published “Animal Farm.”)

Read what he wrote.

 <HARRISON BERGERON by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr  1961

THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal.  They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way.  Nobody was smarter than anybody else.  Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else.  All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.

Some things about living still weren’t quite right, though.  April for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime.  And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron’s fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.

It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn’t think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn’t think about anything except in short bursts.  And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear.  He was required by law to wear it at all times.  It was tuned to a government transmitter.  Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.

George and Hazel were watching television.  There were tears on Hazel’s cheeks, but she’d forgotten for the moment what they were about.

On the television screen were ballerinas.

A buzzer sounded in George’s head.  His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.

“That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did,” said Hazel.

“Huh” said George.

“That dance-it was nice,” said Hazel.

“Yup,” said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren’t really very good-no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn’t be handicapped. But he didn’t get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.

George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.

Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.

“Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer,” said George.

“I’d think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds,” said Hazel a little envious.

“All the things they think up.”  “Um,” said George.

“Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?” said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers.

“If I was Diana Moon Glampers,” said Hazel, “I’d have chimes on Sunday-just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion.”

“I could think, if it was just chimes,” said George.

“Well-maybe make ’em real loud,” said Hazel. “I think I’d make a good Handicapper General.”

“Good as anybody else,” said George.

“Who knows better than I do what normal is?” said Hazel.

“Right,” said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.

“Boy!” said Hazel, “that was a doozy, wasn’t it?”

It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.

“All of a sudden you look so tired,” said Hazel. “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa, so’s you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch.” She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George’s neck.

“Go on and rest the bag for a little while,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re not equal to me for a while.”

George weighed the bag with his hands. “I don’t mind it,” he said. “I don’t notice it any more. It’s just a part of me.”

“You been so tired lately-kind of wore out,” said Hazel. “If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few.”

“Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out,” said George. “I don’t call that a bargain.”

“If you could just take a few out when you came home from work,” said Hazel. “I mean-you don’t compete with anybody around here. You just set around.”

“If I tried to get away with it,” said George, ” then other people’d get away with it-and pretty soon we’d be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

“I’d hate it,” said Hazel.

“There you are,” said George. The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?”  If Hazel hadn’t been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn’t have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.

“Reckon it’d fall all apart,” said Hazel.

“What would?” said George blankly.

“Society,” said Hazel uncertainly. “Wasn’t that what you just said?

“Who knows?” said George.

The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn’t clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, “Ladies and Gentlemen.”

He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.

“That’s all right-” Hazel said of the announcer, “he tried. That’s the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred pound men.

And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody.

“Excuse me-” she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.

“Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen,” she said in a grackle squawk, “has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous.”

A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.

The rest of Harrison’s appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.

Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.  And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random.

“If you see this boy,” said the ballerina, “do not – I repeat, do not – try to reason with him.”

There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.

Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake. George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have – for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune.

“My God-” said George, “that must be Harrison!”  The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head. When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.

Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood – in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.

“I am the Emperor!” cried Harrison. “Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!” He stamped his foot and the studio shook.

“Even as I stand here” he bellowed, “crippled, hobbled, sickened – I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!”

Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.

Harrison’s scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.

Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.

He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.

“I shall now select my Empress!” he said, looking down on the cowering people.

“Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!”

A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.

Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed her mask.  She was blindingly beautiful.

“Now-” said Harrison, taking her hand, “shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!” he commanded.

The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too.

“Play your best,” he told them, “and I’ll make you barons and dukes and earls.”

The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.

The music began again and was much improved.

Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while-listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.

They shifted their weights to their toes.

Harrison placed his big hands on the girl’s tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.

And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!

Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well. They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.

They leaped like deer on the moon.

The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.

It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling. They kissed it.

And then, neutraling gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.

It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.

Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.

It was then that the Bergerons’ television tube burned out.

Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.

George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again.

“You been crying” he said to Hazel.

“Yup,” she said.  “What about?” he said.

“I forget,” she said. “Something real sad on television.”

“What was it?” he said.

“It’s all kind of mixed up in my mind,” said Hazel.

“Forget sad things,” said George.

“I always do,” said Hazel.

“That’s my girl,” said George. He winced. There was the sound of a riveting gun in his head.

“Gee – I could tell that one was a doozy,” said Hazel.

“You can say that again,” said George.

“Gee-” said Hazel, “I could tell that one was a doozy.”>

 

“Harrison Bergeron” is copyrighted by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., 1961.

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LGBT Concealed Licenses No Help

Most Americans take safety for granted. We walk around unaware of our surroundings; we even text while driving. Once in a while, the real world shouts a painful “wake up!” We pay attention for a while; then we drift back into a kind of entertained stupor, absorbed in virtual attractions.  Even intense vigilance and gun laws would not have saved the patrons of the Pulse nightclub in Orlando from the insane security officer who attacked them.  I cannot say what family, community, religious, or mental health resources might have identified, diverted, and redirected Omar Mateen’s mindset to health and tolerance.  

News of unpredictable, random madness creates justifiable hysteria, especially if it is threatening to people like you.  Since the massacre, many LGBT people are buying guns, and seeking concealed hand gun licenses. This is a completely understandable reflection of the community’s generalized fear of attack by “misogaynists,” and religious extremists; naturally, they feel the pressing need for self-defense against such deadly assault. Many have joined millions of Americans who have chosen to be armed citizens. I support their decisions and encourage them to seek professional training, and practice diligently until they can respond to danger effectively. Just owning a gun will not protect you.  (See my recent blogs for more ideas.)

 Alcohol, sex, and early hours are a dangerous combination under any circumstances;  add lethal weapons and really bad things happen. 

Licensed gun owners are prohibited from carrying weapons into bars and clubs that get 51% or more of their revenue from alcohol. Usually signs are posted with a watermark “51%” and tiny text to explain the prohibitions. Also, in Texas, the police  have zero tolerance for drinking alcohol while carrying a weapon.  

In other words, the club in Orlando was off limits to legal guns, and most or all of the patrons were disqualified to carry after they left the club. So,licenses, weapons, and expertise with guns would not have thwarted the tragedy in Orlando.

Part 2 of 3: Become an Expert – Lives Are on the Line

I am a supporter of the rights of Americans to arm themselves.  I believe that the presence of legal guns will reduce violence & the effectiveness of illegal guns. Without professional training & practice, though, a person with a gun is like a baby with a hammer.

Owning a car does not make a person a good driver; neither does getting a driver’s license.  It takes training & years of regular practice to become a good, safe driver.  Otherwise, a car is a dangerous, deadly weapon. Gun ownership is similar.  I believe that no one should carry a gun until they are experts in avoiding violence & experts in using a gun when needed.

I wonder, how many well-meaning fathers give their daughters a deadly weapon & think they are protected from malicious perpetrators?  Such a gift, without extensive training, could do just the opposite.

One of the greatest common errors is believing you will be able to use a gun effectively, if the situation arises.  Not likely.  Life-threatening situations trigger the body’s fear responses, flooding your body with adrenaline.  Without training and practice, you will more than likely freeze. Your thinking ability & motor skills will go to zero.  Even if you get to the gun, if it is not loaded, you will not be able to load it; if it is loaded, you will probably fumble the gun; if you are able to fire it, you will miss.  The assailant could then grab the weapon and use it to attack you.  Scary, isn’t it.

The first question is why own a gun?  Hunting, marksmanship, collecting, & self-defense are all good reasons.  All require the same basic knowledge & practices.  Many critics of the National Rifle Association fail to note that safety & training are major elements of their purpose.  Below is an excerpt from their website on gun safety.

NRA Gun Safety Rules

The fundamental NRA rules for safe gun handling are:

  • ALWAYS keep the gun POINTED IN A SAFE DIRECTION.
    •  This is the primary rule of gun safety. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed so that even if it were to go off it would not cause injury or damage.
    • The key to this rule is to control where the muzzle or front end of the barrel is pointed at all times.
    • Common sense dictates the safest direction, depending on different circumstances.
  • ALWAYS keep your finger OFF THE TRIGGER UNTIL READY TO SHOOT.
    • When holding a gun, rest your finger on the trigger guard or along the side of the gun. Until you are actually ready to fire, do not touch the trigger.
  • ALWAYS keep the gun UNLOADED UNTIL READY TO USE.
    • Whenever you pick up a gun, immediately engage the safety device
    • If the gun has a magazine, remove it before opening the action
    • Look into the chamber(s) which should be clear of ammunition.
    • If you do not know how to open the action or inspect the chamber(s), leave the gun alone & get help from someone who does.

When using or storing a gun, always follow these NRA rules:

  • Store guns so they are NOT ACCESSIBLE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS.
    • Many factors must be considered when deciding where & how to store guns. A person’s particular situation will be a major part of the consideration.
    • Dozens of gun storage devices, as well as locking devices that attach directly to the gun, are available.
    • However, mechanical locking devices, like the mechanical safeties built into guns, can fail & should not be used as a substitute for safe gun handling & the observance of all gun safety rules.
  • Never use ALCOHOL OR OVER-THE-COUNTER, PRESCRIPTION OR OTHER DRUGS before or while shooting.
    • Alcohol, as well as any other substance likely to impair normal mental or physical bodily functions, must not be used before or while handling or shooting guns.
  • Wear EYE & EAR PROTECTION as appropriate.
    • Guns are loud & the noise can cause hearing damage.
    • They can also emit debris & hot gas that could cause eye injury.
    • For these reasons, shooting glasses & hearing protectors should be worn by shooters & spectators.
  • Use only the CORRECT AMMUNITION FOR YOUR GUN.
    • Only BBs, pellets, cartridges or shells designed for a particular gun can be fired safely in that gun.
    • Most guns have the ammunition type stamped on the barrel.
    • Ammunition can be identified by information printed on the box & sometimes stamped on the cartridge.
    • Do not shoot the gun unless you know you have the proper ammunition.
  • Know your TARGET & WHAT IS BEYOND.
    •  Be absolutely sure you have identified your target beyond any doubt.
    • Equally important, be aware of the area beyond your target. This means observing your prospective area of fire before you shoot.
    • Never fire in a direction in which there are people or any other potential for mishap.
    • Think first. Shoot second.
  • Know HOW TO USE THE GUN SAFELY.
    • Before handling a gun, learn how it operates.
    • Know its basic parts, how to safely open & close the action & remove any ammunition from the gun or magazine.
    • Remember, a gun’s mechanical safety device is never foolproof.
    • Nothing can ever replace safe gun handling.
  • Be sure the gun is SAFE TO OPERATE.
    • Just like other tools, guns need regular maintenance to remain operable.
    • Regular cleaning & proper storage are a part of the gun’s general upkeep.
    • If there is any question concerning a gun’s ability to function, a knowledgeable gunsmith should look at it.
  • Be aware that certain types of guns & many shooting activities require additional safety precautions.
  • Cleaning
    • Regular cleaning is important in order for your gun to operate correctly & safely.
    • Taking proper care of it will also maintain its value & extend its life.
    • Your gun should be cleaned every time that it is used.
    • A gun brought out of prolonged storage should also be cleaned before shooting.
    • Accumulated moisture & dirt, or solidified grease & oil, can prevent the gun from operating properly.
    • Before cleaning your gun,make absolutely sure that it is unloaded.
    • The gun’s action should be open during the cleaning process.
    • Also, be sure that no ammunition is present in the cleaning area.

Use Your Mind First – Guns Are Last Resort

Estimates vary, but it would be fair to say that Americans own 300 million guns.  About 13 million citizens have licenses to carry a concealed firearm.  I believe Texas leads the nation in both.

In recent months, I have read about several instances involving licensed concealed carry gun owners; some good, some not.  The key element in each case was judgement. Poor judgement yielded poor, sometimes tragic results.  To me, a lack of training & practice was a big part of the things that went wrong.  Staying safe is everybody’s responsibility, armed or not.

Use Your Mind

The mind is the ideal concealed self-defense weapon.  All weapons, especially the mind, require knowledge, training, & a lot of practice to be safe & effective, & to function when your body is flooded with adrenaline.  In many cases, common sense precautions will reduce the chances that a criminal will choose you as a target.

Be aware that you are most vulnerable when you are in transit from one place to another.  You must be especially alert when driving, riding, walking, jogging, biking, etc.

Your cell phone can be your worst enemy or your best friend.  If you are absorbed in your cell phone, you are extremely vulnerable.  Criminals choose the least aware, most distracted people because it gives them the advantage of surprise.  If you remain alert & use the features of your cell phone, you can avoid being an easy target.  If you are armed, you can avoid situations that could require lethal force.

Here are a few ideas:

  • Have 911 programmed on your cell phone.
  • Pay attention to your surroundings.
  • Pay attention to people & vehicles you encounter.
  • Wait until you are safely at your destination to take or make phone calls.
  • Trust your instincts if a person or a group of people disturbs you.
  • Notice people’s appearance as if you were planning to describe them to the police.  If need be, record your descriptions on your cell phone.
  • Use your cell phone to take pictures of anyone or any vehicle that seems suspicious or out of place.
  • Distance is your friend, put as much space as possible between you & those that concern you.  Cross the street or just turn around & go another way.
  • Choose where you go & when you go there.  Some areas are safe in the daytime, & not safe after dark.
  • Invite a friend or partner to go with you.  Two or more people are less attractive to criminals.
  • Keep your valuables concealed.  Leave your cellphone in your pocket or purse until your reach your destination
  • If you think someone is following you, move quickly to any open store or restaurant or public building.
  • If you feel threatened, yell “fire, fire, look out!” instead of “help,” & run to safety.
  • Lock your car immediately when you get in it.
  • Take whatever time is needed to find a well-lighted place to park your car at night.  Use valet parking when available.
  • Do not talk to anyone you do not know in the parking lot, especially if they approach you for help.
  • If you are near your car, use the alarm button on your car key remote, or at least push the lock or unlock buttons several times to flash the lights & beep the horn.
  • Always lock your car, & keep your keys in your hand as you walk away from & return to your car.
  • If someone robs you, give up your property—don’t give up your life.
  • Carry a “throw away” wallet with a small amount of cash & old or expired credit cards.  If you have the opportunity, throw it behind the robber or drop it out of reach & escape.