Message to New Yorkers: If the Governor Kicks You Out, You’re Welcome in Oklahoma

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New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, in a now-famous rant, put out the Not Welcome mat in front of Empire State pro lifers. New York Mayor Bill de Blasio, who is at odds with the governor over much else, followed up by announcing that he stands with Cuomo “100%” when it comes to this.

It’s not often that Bishops of the Catholic Church feel called to chastise a politician’s statements publicly. In my experience, they tend to bend over backwards to assume the best. They give the politician in question every opportunity to either correct themselves verbally, or show by their actions that they didn’t really mean it.

In addition, Bishops are not prone to take note of politician’s speeches. It has to be something major, extremely grave and dangerous to the welfare of the larger Catholic community before they inject themselves into pubic commentary about the various political gaffes floating around the internet.

I think it’s telling that Governor’s Cuomo’s outlandish remarks were so over the top, that the Bishop Richard Malone of Buffalo responded publicly.

Insofar as his job of Governor is concerned, the question of Governor Cuomo’s standing with the Church is a secondary issue. What matters specifically to his position of governor is his standing with the people of New York.

Is he the governor of those who agree with him and none others? Does he seriously think he’s been elected king of New York and it’s within his purview to go around announcing what kind of viewpoints and beliefs New Yorkers are allowed to hold?

His comments go far beyond normal political misbehavior and step over into is-he-nuts territory. What’s going on with the Governor of New York?

Here, for your delectation, is a bit of what Governor Cuomo said:

“Their problem is not me and the Democrats; their problem is themselves. Who are they? Are they these extreme conservatives who are right-to-life, pro-assault-weapon, anti-gay? Is that who they are? Because if that’s who they are and they’re the extreme conservatives, they have no place in the state of New York, because that’s not who New Yorkers are.”

Read more: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2014/jan/19/gov-cuomo-pro-life-conservatives-have-no-place-new/#ixzz2rQpwygF9
Follow us: @washtimes on Twitter

I’ve held off writing about this because it is so over the top in terms of acceptable behavior from an elected official that I decided to give it a bit of time to jell. I wanted to allow Governor Cuomo a chance to issue a press release saying, I was suffering from gastroenteritis/drunk/grief-stricken-because-my-dog-had-died at the time and said things that in no way represent what I truly think. Nothing that carries the flat-out I-did-not-mean-it apology which I think is required for such outrageous comments from an elected official has ensued. 

It appears that not just the Governor, but the mayor of New York (or, as we call it where I’m from, New York City) are standing pat. They may not agree on much else, but they agree “100%” that people who think differently from them on a whole range of issues are not welcome in New York. 

This isn’t about pro life vs pro abortion. It’s not about gun control vs the Second Amendment. It’s also not about gay vs traditional marriage. It’s about two elected officials who, from all evidence, have totally lost their sense of what elective office means. Both the Governor and the attaboy mayor following in his footsteps have taken on attitudes and ideas that are antithetical to what public service in the form of elective office entails. 

When you’re elected to office, you represent everyone in the area that elected you. That means, Mr Governor and Mr Mayor, even those who oppose gun control, gay marriage and abortion. You are their governor and their mayor just the same as you are the mayor or governor for your pals and cronies who blow smoke up your skirts and tell you what a “statesman” you are for kicking everyone else to the curb. 

It doesn’t matter if you agree with your constituents. It doesn’t matter if they agree with you. It certainly doesn’t matter if they like you or not. They can call you names and drive you nuts with weird accusations and oddball demands all they want. The office you occupy belongs to them. Not you. 

Governor Cuomo occupies the office of Governor of New York. But the office belongs to the people of New York.  

By the people of New York, I mean all of them, including those that the Governor and his mayoral echo say “don’t belong” in their fair state and city.

I want to wind this up by with two thoughts.  

First, I extend my sincere condolences to the people of New York. I especially want to express solidarity with the traditional Christians, traditional marriage and sanctity of human life defenders who live there. You are, to quote Moses, strangers in a strange land. 

Second, I would like to invite disaffected, disenfranchised New Yorkers of whatever belief to come on down to Oklahoma. We’ve got both pro life and pro choice people in Oklahoma. We’ve got gun control advocates and NRA members, sitting side by side in restaurants, eating their catfish and chicken fried steak. We’ve got gay people, demanding gay marriage, and supporters of traditional marriage arguing back at them. 

Come to Oklahoma New Yorkers. Around here we are free, as Wesley suggested, to think and let think. 

Lock Up Your Babies and Little Old Ladies. It’s Killing Time in New Mexico.

 

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You know those magazine articles and internet blogs detailing the best places in America to retire?

You can take New Mexico off the list.

Judge Nan Nash, a family court judge from the New Mexico second judicial district, has decided it’s time to let New Mexico doctors legally kill their patients. Anyone with half a brain knows that, despite the judge’s contentions, that means primarily and mostly our old people.

You can read her findings here. If you do, you’ll notice that she makes quite a few unsupported assumptions to get to her conclusion, which is that doctors in New Mexico can now kill their patients.

You can dress it up all you want, but that’s what euthanasia is: A license to kill.

You can call it “mercy” and “compassion” and whatever nonsensical appellation you can dream up to hang on it. But it’s killing people who have become a “burden.”

I hesitate to reference Hitler, especially after my explication here, but sometimes, only a reference to one of the masters of Godless killing of the 20th Century fits the “progressive” things we are doing to ourselves in America today. Euthanasia of the sick and the elderly is just Hitler’s “solution” for what he called “useless eaters” one step removed.

Proponents of euthanasia describe a fantasyland world where we can give people the legal right to kill other people and it won’t ever be abused. They live in a world where euthanasia is palliative care to ease people out of the inhuman suffering that the same medical profession we are giving the right to kill them inflicted on them in the first place. They erect all sorts of pretty little fences around their medical killing fields, and then pretend that those fences actually serve to keep the killers out.

But the truth of the matter is that human beings will kill with impunity if you allow them to kill at all. The line between a doctor and a killer is the law. Doctors have the power to kill their patents in a thousand unseen ways. They do it by accident all the time. They always, from the time you submit yourself to their care, have the power to kill you.

But when we blur the lines around how they can use that power to allow them to deliberately and willfully kill their patients in one little “extreme” instance and another instance and another one over there, we have opened the door to the idea that it is permissible for doctors to kill their patients.

All the pretty little legal fences in the world cannot undo the bedrock change in philosophy and attitude that comes riding in on that permission. After you break down the barrier between healing and killing of patients, everything else is fine print.

I say this as someone who is “burdened” as the world sees it with an elderly parent: You don’t have to kill people. All you have to do is love them and take care of them. Life is worth living, even at its twilight. People are precious, even when they can’t do anything for us anymore and we have to do for them.

Every human being is made in the image and likeness of God Almighty and, with the single exception of self defense, you may not kill them. 

Human life belongs to God. It is His to give, and His to take. It is ours to live.

What a bunch of inhuman monsters we have become that our society allows this.

I could go off into long-winded explanations as to why euthanasia is wrong and unnecessary and (dare I say it) a mortal sin that can get you sent to flaming hell for eternity. I’ve done it before. And I imagine I’ll do it again.

But for today, I’m doing to repeat one statement that I think says it all:

What a bunch of inhuman monsters we have become.

Convos with My Three-Year-Old: The Leaves

I love these. They are so true.

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My Drug Addict Family Member and the Witching Hour

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I called it the Witching Hour.

Toddlers melt down at around 5pm every single day. This fact is well known to stay at home moms and other peculiar people who spend a great deal of time with little children.

Just about the time you are up to your elbows in getting supper on the table, the babies start cranking out tantrums, whines, arguments and fights. It’s as if someone put crazy drugs in their afternoon snackies.

Nobody told me about the Witching Hour. Like so much about raising little children, I had to learn it the hard way. But once I got it figured out and took the This-is-gonna-happen-so-put-your-foot-down-and-slide attitude, it became manageable.

I thought I was through with all that when my kids grew out of it.

But I find that I am once again caring for a toddler, and the Witching Hour is back. This particular toddler is approaching 90 years of age and has a random memory of having once been an independent, free-wheeling adult. She remembers that she once paid her bills, balanced her check book and fought all my battles.

She is my mother, and I love her so much it makes my teeth ache.

The Witching Hour evidently applies to elderly toddlers as much as it does baby toddlers. Every day at about 5 my mother melts down. She doesn’t roll on the floor and wail the way babies can do. Her tantrums take the form of hand-wringing anxiety and fear. If she doesn’t find something to hang this anxiety and fear on, I can distract her out of it. But thanks to the the occasional slip-up, or, more often, the family drug addict who has no conscience about ripping off her elderly grandmother, there are days this becomes impossible.

One day this week, my mother found a bill from her latest hospital stay. How she got it, I don’t know. Everyone in the family works at keeping anything that will set her off away from her. We censor her mail by lifting the bills and any advertising that looks like something she might think was a threat (she’s amazingly creative at interpreting advertising as threats) and only letting her see the harmless stuff.

For years, I wanted to end her subscription to the newspaper. Every time they said something nasty about me (there are spells where that can be an almost daily occurrence) she would warp out. I kept telling her that I didn’t care and it was fine, but she is my mother and … well … you know.

Somehow, despite our almost paranoid vigilance, she got her hands on this $35 bill from the hospital. And she warped out. It took forever for me to pry the fact that this was about a bill out of her.

We’re in a horrible mess, she kept repeating. They’re going to take everything. 

When I asked her who “they” was, she would say, I don’t know. 

When I asked her what she was talking about, she would say, I don’t know. 

She cried and begged me to take care of it. PLEASE take care of it. 

I finally figured out it was a bill. My son took it and tore it into tiny pieces, which is pretty much the way we all felt about the thing.

I was so shot by the experience I wanted to go somewhere and just curl up in a little ball. When my mother cries like that, it rips me into as many pieces as my son did that bill.

Then, yesterday, she came to me in tears, almost vibrating with fear. We’re in a horrible mess. 

The house (meaning her home where she no longer lives) is in a shambles. Those people (meaning my drug addict relative) have trashed it and now it’s on us to fix it or the government will tear it down. 

 She was crying as if her heart was broken, and scared out of what remains of her wits. We went through another round of 20 questions and I slowly pieced together that she’d gotten a call from a bill collector over yet another fraudulent bill that the family drug addict has run up in my mother’s name.

The house, so far as I could tell, was fine.

This bill-collector-calling-about-things-the family-drug-addict-has-done-in-my-elderly-mother’s-name-thing happens fairly often.

For instance, about a week ago, I got a call from the adult day care center where Mama goes while the rest of us are at work, telling me that she’d been on the phone, giving out information to somebody. When the staff person took the phone and said this lady has dementia, who are you the caller got snotty with them. I dropped everything and went to the day care center, took Mama’s phone and called the number back.

When I got the caller on the line, they wouldn’t tell me who they were, even though I have power of attorney where my mother is concerned. It’s been a long time since I’ve been that angry. I mean, these people called and hounded an elderly woman who obviously has dementia at her day care center, and then would not tell the responsible party who they were.

After a round of me losing my temper totally with them, it turned out that they were trying to collect a debt for thousands of dollars somebody has hung on my elderly mother. I don’t know for sure, but if this isn’t more handiwork by the family drug addict, I’ll be surprised.

The Witching Hour is so common that the people at the day care center have their own name for it. They call it “sun downing.”

I don’t know if it’s just about end-of-the-day tiredness, or if there’s some sort of hormonal change that occurs in our bodies at that time of day. All I know is that people at both ends of life get upset and bothered around 5pm.

If there is no call from a bill collector or threatening advertising or some paper bill that slipped into her hands by mistake, my mother just tends to spin webs at this time of day. She’s cranky and she wants what she wants, which is my attention. But she doesn’t fall apart on me.

However, if anything slips through the net we put around her, she goes out on us.

The family drug addict’s parasitical behavior is by far the most difficult for me to tolerate. Everyone else in the family works together to care for and protect my mother. Then we’ve got the family drug addict out there, trying to prey on her and actively hurting and upsetting her.

I don’t know exactly why I’m writing all this. Maybe because I am worn slick with it today (I’ve had two really emotional Witching Hours back to back.) and I need to talk about it.

I do know this, and it’s a surprise to me to learn it. Taking care of an elderly parent is, if it’s a family enterprise and you have wonderful services such as Adult Day Care, surprisingly do-able. But when one member of the family decides to become an extra burden, they can wreak havoc.

I am privileged to be able to take care of my mother. I am also blessed to have sons who, even as young men in their twenties, are completely willing to care for her, too. I see them do this, and I feel vindicated as a parent. I raised two wonderful, loving men.

As for the family drug addict, I am at my wit’s end.

Chilli Tells Her Abortion Story

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Abortion deforms the powerful life-giving force that women possess. Here is Rezonda “Chilli” Thomas’ description of her abortion and what it did to her.

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Brit Hume: The Moral Case for Abortion on Demand Grows Ever Weaker

“The moral case for allowing such beings to be killed grows ever weaker, and its advocates resort to ever more absurd euphemisms to describe what they support.” Brit Hume

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I Bought the Lie: Life After Abortion

What does abortion mean to women after they’d had a few years to re-live the experience?

What does abortion mean to them when they realize what they have done?

Does abortion free women, or imprison them in a new form of misogyny?

Women deserve better than abortion.

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Forty-One Years. Dear God Forgive Us.

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I can’t do this anymore.

That was the thought.

It came after the realization.

I woke up this morning feeling sick without an illness. I was sorta dizzy, totally dispirited and generally feeling like it was a day to avoid.

Then, I remembered. Today is January 22, a date, to paraphrase Franklin Roosevelt, that lives in infamy.

And I thought: I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t deal with the fact of … how many is it? who keeps this grisly toll? … tens of millions of lives taken, tossed in a trash can, flushed down the drain, “disposed of” as waste.

Forty-one years. And each life is a snowflake; unique, irreplaceable and beautiful.

It isn’t tens of millions of lives lost. It is one life lost, and another life lost, and another and another and another until we are looking, not at an individual who is his or her own bright shining star, but at an incomprehensible mass of anonymous bodies piled into mountains of wasted human lives. Their individuality, their essential humanness, lies hidden in the crush of numbers.

Forty-one years of easy killing, and the heavy toll it’s taken, not so much on the babies we’ve murdered, but on us, as a nation, as people, as free moral agents who bear the weight of our decisions, is too much.

Abortion is a gateway drug of killing and social destruction that appears to know no limits in its power to deform, deface and destroy the essential humanness, not just of the unborn, but of whole societies that partake of it.

Abortion. Euthanasia. Embryonic stem cell research. Egg harvesting. Paid surrogacy. Designer babies.

The beat goes on.

Dear God forgive us.

12 Unborn Animals in the Womb

Twelve unborn animals in the womb. Look at each of them, all the way to the end.

Beautiful.

 

Now Wait Just a Minute. If Chastity Applies to Nuns, It Also Applies to Priests.

I haven’t written about this particular story because it seemed like just one of those things.

You know. People fail.

Christianity, as I live it, is largely a matter of falling down and getting back up to try again. That’s why we have confession. It’s why we need to be kind to one another about our various weaknesses. Because we are all sinners who are bound to fail. None of us gets out of that.

So, when I read the story about the nun in Italy who had a baby, I basically just thought that she needed mercy and probably some help with her baby. I did not see it as the worst — or even close to the worst — thing that I had heard that day, much less ever in my life.

Then, today I was reading through some headlines and I saw that a local Italian bishop has called for the nun to “leave her convent in the North of Italy after breaking her vow of chastity.” (Emphasis mine.)

My reaction to that was an immediate and heartfelt Wait a minute buddy.

I agree that now that the sister is also a mother, her first responsibility is to her child. I think she should rejoin secular life (not be cast out, but helped to do this) so that she can devote herself to full-time motherhood. I also think it would be nice if dear old dad stepped up and took responsibility for his child, too.

Just for the record, and even though nobody has asked me, I want to say that priests and men religious who father children should also rejoin the secular world and take up their responsibility to their child. That includes marrying the mothers of their children and forming a Christian family in a stable, Christian home.

So I was ok with the idea that Sister/Mama needs to leave religious life and take care of her new baby.

But … kick her out because she has broken her vow of chastity????

The day Bishops start sending priests and men religious back to private life for breaking their vows of chastity, we can talk about that.

Not before.

I’m not going to go off on a rant about priests and men religious here. That’s really not the point.

What I am saying is drop the self-righteous, hypocritical double standard.

Chastity isn’t just for women. Men are called to chastity and are just as culpable when they violate it as the other half of humanity.  So long as priests are forgiven for violating their chastity and allowed to return to ministry, that same standard should apply to the sisters.

That’s just the way it is.

 


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