Flags or No Flags: A Biblical Perspective

This letter below was written by my father, James M. Couts, two years ago, addressed to the church council, of which he was a member. Before writing the letter, he was a Lutheran Minister for 28-years, and now runs the largest rural summer-feeding program in the United States.

He was born ouside of Mansfield, Ohio, the youngest of six children, to one of the poorest families in the state. He didn’t have electricity until age 12, when nearly everyone he knew already had a line connected. He is white.

I post this today, because I believe it explains a perspective rarely taken into consideration in today’s Jeremiah Wright-driven politics–and politics-driven religion. Also, I hope it sheds some light on the theological camp from which Rev. Wright was preaching; he was preaching from God’s side, not America’s.

Enough with my blathering, here’s the letter:

Puthy Glowsthick

When I was still dancing, I worked with this girl. Her name was E. We new so many E’s at the time, we started attaching adjectives to their names, when conversing about them. There was Cool E, Hippie E, and the E that we worked with. She came to be called Dumb E.

E Had a serious lisp. Seriously, the worst lisp I’ve ever heard. She was also incredibly stupid. She was a year older than me (20 at the time) but she had the I.Q. of an 8 year old (maybe). And when you talked to her in the dressing room, you just thought of her as an eight-year-old, and everything was OK. It was the strangest thing.

Ima’ Bounce for Ya

I used to be a stripper. To specify, I used to be a stripper in West Virginia, and it sucked. The economy is horrible there. So, every time my best friend, Violet (who also used to be a stripper) and I got the chance, we would make the long trek to the mystical land of Columbus, Ohio. The city contains, not only a giant building in the shape of a basket, *gasp* but is also the home of the first Wendy’s! Anyway, I’m not a fan of Columbus.

Democrats, We’re Fucking This Up: A Call for Party Unity

If your life is anything like mine (e.g. you’re on the Internet, all day), you already know the ins and outs of the race for the Democratic nomination. Day after day, columnists and pundits play Hot Potato with home-spun topics, and we watch and read in return. So I’m not going to waste our time here with all the twists and follies. (Look them up if you like.) But Democrats, listen, we are seriously fucking this up. Sen. McCain, a Republican, is leading both Sen. Obama and Sen. Clinton, nationally. This, after only two weeks of the Republican machine throwing stones at Obama, as Clinton stood silently on the sidelines. The Democratic National Convention begins five months from tomorrow, leaving only two months until the general election.

Day Outside: Photos

A Short Note…

Supporters of Sen. Barack Obama, Democrats, Independents and supportive Republicans: NOW is the time to fight. Now is the time to dig in our heels and demand our country be greater than it’s one fickle dimension–put-on or put-off. Let us realize a greater politics that can only serve to strengthen our nation, our economy, our standing in the world. Our lives right now. Be proud of yourself and your country by standing up on shaky ground; by beating back the criticisms of hypocrites and box blathering fools. Now is the time to fight.

We have one chance, right now, to prove to ourselves and to the world, that we can recognize quality when we see it. Not the static quality of “America is Great.” For today, in this changing world, that is not enough. Instead, let us embrace a dynamic quality, an energy constantly moving forward, that challenges us to greatness beyond what our past has afforded thus far.  It is this “dynamic quality” that Sen. Obama embodies. And that guarantees the change we demand. Now is the time to fight.

Sunday

Sundays always nudge my eyes open with their lonely daylight. Those mornings after wet and sloppy nights; useless regrets abound. This Sunday, I awoke to a forceful dose of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, helped along by a charred concoction of eggs, liquid smoke, garlic powder, MSG, salt, sesame oil and bacon, consumed late the night before.

Mr. President, You’re Thinking About This All Wrong

I stole my headline from a Chicago Tribune article, by Cass R. Sunstein, a colleague of Sen. Barack Obama at the University of Chicago Law School. Though they’ve been friends for “nearly 15 years,” Sunstein raises few points about Obama that many of us don’t already know: He’s a good listener; he’s interested in hearing all sides of the issue; he rejects the Red State-Blue State dichotomy, etc… Mr. Sunstein does, however, speak particularly highly of Sen. Obama’s grasp of “policy and detail,” and gives specific examples of his refusal to bow to Washington’s operational status-quo.

Thanks, Mr. Pope. Now I’m a BIGGER Sinner.

As if I weren’t a big enough sinner already, The Pope released his new list of sins this week. I’ve been using the Lord’s name in vain and partying hard on Sundays for a while now. So I already knew I’d bought my ticket to Hell, but thanks to The Pope, I’ve got a first class seat now on an express train to the fiery flames of evil. Here are the new sins that were literally INVENTED this week. (By the way, who really believes this sh*t anymore?)

YOU ARE NOW A SINNER IF…

Relationships…like meals.

I was never sure what I thought about love. I was always sure, however, what I was supposed to think about love. Raised by two apocalyptically wrong for each other parents, relationships were hardly defined by compatibility and support for me. In fact, looking back on those innocent high school boyfriends, I really have no idea at all what sort of fruit I was seeking from those still then foreign trees. When I look back at those songs I was writing for guy after guy after guy, I can’t make sense of it. I would scribble passionate lyrics across an oh so cliche napkin. I would pronounce my aching devotion, which yes, the two have always gone hand in hand for me. It seems as though I have always been quite masterful at giving everything there is to give and feeling everything there is to feel instantaneously with a person. It could be my impatience or fear, or both, that has kept me from letting anything marinate.