The Absolute Last Bit Of Evidence You Need

These guys definitely know something that John McCain supporters here just do not know.  I get it, though.  This is going to take foreign policy to a whole new level.  

I did take some cough syrup about an hour ago, so I hope this is still as funny tomorrow as it is at this very moment.

Thanks to Sandhya at Literary Safari for this.

I Know You Miss Me

I'm moving this blog to a new location by the end of this week (Insha'Allah).

Of course, I'll let you know when it's done.

I'm just telling you in case you start wondering where I went for the next few days.

I'm in Wordpress theme and template hell, that's where I am.

Dead Right

I took a course called "Death in America" a few years ago. At the end of the class, the professor asked, "Do you believe present day America is a death denying culture?"

I believe that we are a death denying culture. We're not stupid. Americans know that every single person born on this earth does eventually die.

But knowledge of a thing, I submit, is not a substitute for acceptance.

The most obvious proof of this for me is the cemetery that I pass on my way to the mall.

An expansive and pristine green field dotted with fake bouquets of colorful flowers, it's typical of the American cemetery built within the past fifty years. Embedded in the ground in the form of flat stones, grave markers are visible only to those who actively seek reminders of those buried there. The architects of this cemetery showed great consideration for those who don't wish to be reminded of death. Your eyes will pass right over this cemetery as you go about your day, therefore ensuring that you'll definitely not think about the the bodies of the mothers, fathers, friends and children lying in that field.

Juxtapose this fairly recent construction with the century old cemetery that is in the middle of my brother's neighborhood in a parish outside of New Orleans. Massive structures of concrete and marble slab over four or five feet tall casually invade the everyday space of the living. People live next door to the cemetery, across the street from it, and even walk their dogs there. Unlike its Central Floridian sister, this New Orleanian cemetery jovially greets its living neighbors and unwary passersby, "Hey baby, (people in New Orleans say "baby," a lot) there's plenty of room in here for you, too. Laissez les bontemps roule!"

The reason for our stubborn denial of death is far more than just a simple fear of dying. Death reminds us that this life is impermanent, which means that everyone in our lives, as we know them today, is impermanent, too.

See, that last sentence is typical of a death denying culture with its use of "permanent" and "impermanent." A person who truly accepts and even embraces death as a concrete reality can say "One day, I will die, my parents will die, my spouse will die, and my children will die." Few people, including myself, can really say that without feeling totally depressed. Denying death certainly affords us the benefit of avoiding the painful fact that everyone we love and cherish will die.

But, I wonder, what are we missing in this trade off?

And, furthermore, what might we gain in trying to incorporate the true acceptance of death in our daily life?

We stand to gain quite a bit, I think. I'm not going to bore you with a discussion of the standard "Rah, Rah, live this day like it's your last" cheer. You're way too smart for that.

As I understand it, denying death allows us to continue deny what's important.

Hustling like a crazy person to win the love and acceptance of other human beings only feels important when we convince ourselves that the approval and love that we may get in return for the hustling is going to last forever.

Getting angry over the latest perceived insult to our egos only feels important when we convince ourselves that if the insult is not rectified, it will stand as an everlasting affront to who we are.

Competing with others over who has the best house, the nicest car and the most toys only feels right when we convince ourselves that some prize will be won in the end.

When we face death head on instead of denying it, though, we face the utter frivolity of these pursuits.

We realize that the only real truth is that everyone gets the same end in this life. Some will face death surrounded by loved ones and others will face it alone. For some, it will happen fast, and for others, it will happen slowly. In the end, regardless of the circumstances, everyone's heart will stop, everyone's breath will fade, and everyone's brain will die.

Death is not a punishment, it's a reality. And I personally feel that the further we remove ourselves from the realities of life, the worse off we are.

This seems nihilistic, but, really, it's most liberating. Accepting death can help us construct a legacy in which we truly believe. Death can serve as a microscope that allows us to dissect our beliefs and deeds in a way that no other experience can adequately parallel.

Accepting death doesn't mean that I can't grieve for the people in my life that have died either.

In fact, it gives me permission to do so in a more subtle and prolonged way, without the self imposed stigma of feeling like I have to "get over it." Because, you can't get over death. It's always going to be there, and ignoring it doesn't make it go away.

Family Photo

This photo of my dad's family (I wrote about them in the last post) predates the partition of India and was taken in Malerkotla, a Punjabi state that my family, ahem, er, this is awkward, ruled for about three centuries.

Far right, my grandfather. Grandmother in the middle and the two ladies on the far left are my father's half sisters. My grandfather's first wife died of TB, I think. The child on the far right is my dad, far left is his brother.

My father is the only person in this photo who is still alive. I wonder how that must feel for him.

I feel lucky to even have it. You know, maybe since I have it and others like it, the quest to instill a little sense of family history in my progeny won't be a total failure? Heh, I know you love how I worked the word progeny in there.

Incidentally, Eid ul-Fitr is on Tuesday or Wednesday and marks the end of Ramadhan.

So, go wish all your Muslim friends "Eid Mubarek."

What do you mean you don't have any Muslim friends?

Firestarter

UPDATE: This post was written about 12 hours before the breaking news United States Armed Forces have crossed Pakistani borders, without the permission of the Pakistani government, in pursuit of suspected terrorists.  I was asked by my cousin in Pakistan this morning, "Don't people in America care about what's happening?"  Of course we do.  We do, right?

You can read more about it in this article from the Washington Post. 

Yesterday was September 11th.  

Two of the most prolific bloggers in my Google reader, Avitable and Miss Britt, who I've adopted as my blogging mama and papa without their express permission, wrote wonderful posts on the topic. (BTW, making Avitable one's blog papa could be considered extremely creepy).  

I commented profusely on Avitable's blog and stirred up a bit of firestorm which is totally uncharacteristic of me, ha ha.  Go check it out by clicking on his name up there, but if you're at work, be advised that the comments are profanity laden.

Of course, the one person I challenged had to be a United States Marine.  Obviously, I didn't know that at the time.

And, of course, he was very upset about my use of the words "taking action" with regards to the protection of this nation's freedom.  Because he's been all over the world taking action and I've been sitting here in the AC of my suburban home.  I came off as sarcastic, which again is very uncharacteristic of me, so I suppose that fueled his contempt for my comments.  

Truth be told, I understood his point of view, and I offered a reasonable apology.   In the end, I think peace was established through some discreet intervention on the part of Avitable.  

What many people may not know is that when Mrs. Faiqa was once Miss Faiqa, she walked into the United States Marine Corps Recruiting Office in Daytona Beach, Florida at the age of eighteen and signed a recruitment form.  

Yes, I actually signed up to join the United States Marine Corps.  

I took the oath, they didn't ask and I didn't tell (nothing to tell), I did the push ups, I ran the miles, and I took the joke of  a literacy test that all enlistees must take.  

On the day that I went to Jacksonville for my physical, in the multitudes of young people there, I was the only woman, the only Muslim and the only full blooded person of Asian descent present for enlistment in the Marine Corps.    

At the end of the day, I was informed that I had been disqualified during the physical examination because I have an elongated retina which made me susceptible to retinal detachment should I experience any severe trauma to the head.  Apparently, Marines get hit in the head, a lot. 

When I was eighteen, I thought the best way to serve my country was to become one of the warriors that protected it.  My parents, my teachers, my family and my friends thought I was an idiot for "throwing my life away," but I didn't care.  At that time in my life, I believed that military service would be the best expression of my dedication to the service of this nation.

My disqualification, though, afforded me the opportunity to realize that everyone is meant to serve their cause in a different way.  

I serve my country by being informed.  

I serve my country by educating myself regarding the freedoms that have been bestowed upon me by the Constitution of the United States.  

 

I serve my country by yelling, stomping my feet in my living room (or the living rooms of other people) and blogging on the Internet when I see those freedoms being transgressed or upheld.

  

I serve my country by showing the world that I am unafraid of identifying myself as a Muslim, despite repeated implications from many of my compatriots and elected politicians that this nation is at war not only with Iraq and Afghanistan, but with Islam itself.

I serve my country whenever I intentionally answer "American," no hyphen, to the questions aimed at determining my ethnic origins.  

Make no mistake, I am not equating my level of service with people who are getting shot at on the other side of the world.  

I'm just saying that we all serve within the parameters of our capabilities, and many of us act with the noblest of intentions.  These services and actions are not any less of a contribution to the greatness of our nation.

Whenever I see a banner that reads, "Support Our Troops," I feel a strange twinge in my heart. I have always supported our troops, well before 9/11, well before it was deemed fashionable by the media and political pundits.  

I'm offended by the conflation of the support of our troops with our current conflict.  After all, I should be able to voice my opposition to foreign policy without having my support of our military even coming up for discussion.    

I fight for this country every day with my words.  And while I am not as prolific as many others, there are people who give my words some consideration.  

I have been to various continents and bravely faced up to the criticisms that others have for this country, and I have defended what was right, just and good about us.  

I do not impose, I do not require agreement, but I will continue to expose the goodness of America to the people of this planet as much as I can.  

And there is much about us that is good, just and right.

Finally, I serve by finding and fostering the goodness within America.  I offer myself as an example of how this nation, at it very best, can be diverse, humane, tolerant and conscious.  

This is the highest and best form of service that I can offer.

Your Right to Complain About the Economy: The Official Quiz

Your Right to Complain About the Economy

The Official Quiz

Answering three of the five following entitles bearer to busting this paper out and screaming, "DO YOU HAVE ONE OF THESE, PUNK?!"

I'm posting the answer right under its respective question.  Don't cheat.

1. Imperialist Capitalism, Inc. has a factory based in Illinois that reports a net profit this year of 130 million dollars. This year, they opened another factory in PoLittleOlUsuania which reported profits of 52 gazillion bazillion dollars. How much did Imperialist Capitalism contribute to the GDP of America?

Answer to #1: Come on, it's called Gross Domestic Product, which is defined as consumer ready goods and services produced within the United States.  Imperialist Capitalism, Inc.'s contribution to America's GDP is 130 million dollars.  PoLittleOlUsistan gets to add the 52 gazillion bazillion dollars to its GDP, even if the CEO of Imperialist Capitalism puts the profits in an offshore executive spending account in the Caymans in order to purchase 55 houses in the Cote d'Azure, a private jet in Dubai and 40 million pez dispensers from Japan. Each of those nations will calculate the money spent on those items within their own respective GDPs, as well.  Globalization is fun. 

2. Are we in a recession? How would you find out if we are? (Hint: The answer is not "my neighbor lost her job.")

Answer to #2: A recession is categorized as negative growth in the GDP for several months.  Most economists agree upon about six months.  To know if that is happening you could glue yourself to the television and beleive what they tell you, like a good little lemming, or go to the Bureau of Economic Analysis' website and find out what the GDP has been for the past several months. We are not in a recession. In fact, this month our GDP increased by 1.9%. Don't get too happy, GDP is only one of many economic indicators.

3. Who is in charge of making the final decision about our nation's fiscal policy?

Answer to #3: The president has a Council of Economic Advisors who analyze the economy and make recommendations. A budget is put together by the Office of Management and Budget in the White House and then submitted to Congress, who then passes the legislation that authorizes spending and taxation. But it's Congress who makes the final decision. Did you read that right? Yes, Congress.  So, it's Congress, not the President, who makes the final decision. I don't know why I keep feeling the need to say that over and over again. 

4. What is the intention behind an investment tax credit?

Answer to #4: An investment tax credit is aimed at encouraging economic growth by increasing a business' (es'??) or industry's ability to invest. It's the amount that businesses are allowed by law to deduct from their taxes that has been aimed at investing. Hence the terms investment, tax and credit. Golly, economics sure is tricky.  Incidentally, both McCain and Obama are proposing these types of credits, but for different sectors of the economy.  I'm sure you know who is for what and which is for whom.  (That was a very Seuss-like sentence, wasn't it?)

5. Name 4 of the top ten countries with whom we have a trade deficit.

Answer to #5: Our trade deficit is at about $700 billion dollars, give or take. The top ten countries with whom we have a trade deficit are (drum roll, please): China, Canada, Japan, Mexico, Venezuela, Germany, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria (probably because of all the jailed diplomats who are recieving wire transfers from little old ladies in America), Russia and Angola (Angola? Really? Really, Angola.).  Fun fact: What do most of these countries have in common?  You got it, smarty pants, petroleum.  Petroleum which is used to make fuel and plastics.  So walk and recycle and you could help eliminate our deficit.

I posted the answers right under the question and you had to read them to see if you were right.  Therefore, if you are still here, you know the answers to all of the above questions which means you have a right to complain about the economy.  

I may be a "democrat snob" and "liberal elite," but, hey, I'm a benevolent liberal elite who is not afraid to bestow my wisdom upon the cake eating unwashed masses.  (Sarcasm, haters, it's called sarcasm.)

If you have noticed any discrepancies or misinformation in any of the posts above, please feel free to be the pretentious know-it-all who points them out to me in the comment section of my blog.