Graham Takes Note

It is being referenced as a neo-classic “they said/she said.”  That is, the CIA briefing to Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi that did or did not reference waterboarding back in 2002.  Who to believe when both have ample motivations to be less than candid? Who to believe when both are less than citadels of veracity? Who to believe when winks, nods and arched brows can communicate what note-taking doesn’t record?

 

So, best to ask former Florida Sen. Bob Graham, who, as chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee back then, received a CIA detainee briefing in the same time frame. He says there was no mention of waterboarding – and given that there was (typically) staff present, it was, indeed, no surprise that something as sensitive as waterboarding wasn’t on the agenda, official or otherwise.

 

Frankly, Bob “Anal Retentive Note Taker” Graham is the most credible source on this subject. Chances are, waterboarding, per se, was never part of Pelosi’s briefing.

“Full Flop” Connotation

Along with many others, I also like the award-winning PolitiFact.com feature of the St. Petersburg Times. It cuts through the half-lies, pseudo truths and parsed misrepresentations of self-serving politicians.

 

Recently, PolitiFact’s “Flip-O-Meter” nailed President Obama for changing his mind about releasing photos depicting prisoner abuse of detainees being held overseas.  The president had previously stated that he would release them. Now he won’t. So, PolitiFact accorded “Full Flop” status to President Obama.  

 

Frankly, the president made the right call by changing his mind. Ask any American serving in Iraq or Afghanistan right now if they would appreciate the likely tradeoff of more governmental transparency: a ratcheting up of jihadi emotions and the subsequent likelihood of more American deaths and casualties.  

 

The issue is with the connotation of “Full Flop.” It typically connotes a cynical change done for political expedience. Think Mitt Romney.

 

This one involved a decision that arguably lessened the threat to Americans already in harm’s way. Had he not “flopped,” the president would have been wrong. The worst kind of wrong.

No Bull(ying)

Given what happened over at Walker Middle School recently, we are graphically reminded — again — that “bullying” is more than a rite-of-passage, “boys will be boys” matter. In fact, the Hillsborough County Commission is now using state justice grant funds to initiate an anti-bullying awareness and community outreach program. There will be a hot line and cyber link for youth to report bullying, plus posters, PSA’s and training for parents. 

 

The focus on bullying even warranted a timely, page-one Tampa Tribune piece on “Standing Up To Bullies.”

 

The article came with a sidebar on tips for stopping bullying. Advice such as being involved with your child and teaching confident body language. But it also included this: “Practice one- or two-word comebacks like ‘Wow,’ ‘Dude’ or ‘What?!’ that might throw a bully off- balance.”

 

Say what?

 

Not to sound unsalvageably old school, but in lieu of a dubious “Dude” gambit, why not

try this: Take the lad to a gym. Jab, jab, right cross. “Who’s next, Dude?”

Rap Crap Saps

So, Atlanta rapper T.I., who was born with the much more prosaic handle of Clifford Harris Jr., is off on his latest marketing tour. This one for more “street cred.” This one to the federal prison in Arkansas to serve a year on a weapons conviction.

 

Apparently, the slammer is where rappers go to get their “street cred.” And for the record, Talent Imposter — or whatever the hell T.I. stands for — was arrested for trying to buy, among other less-than-standard household items, machine guns and silencers. Indeed, who could be credible without packing at least a semi-automatic weapon?

 

Apparently Threatening Intimidation’s rap lyrics, as odious as they are, still needed a complementary stretch in stir for the proper, credibly thuggish image. And here, courtesy of Cynthia Tucker of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, is an example of those vile “lyrics”:

 

            “We know where yo’ family live/ Trust me you don’t want me up in yo’

            crib/ Wit a ski mask on duct taping your kids/ You can pray all you want/

            But I don’t forgive.”

 

This is a prime example of why rap has been labeled – ok, by me – “the anthem of a dysfunctional culture.” It is Barack Obama’s and Bill Cosby’s ultimate bete noire and a cultural and security nightmare to all those who think misogynistic, murderous nihilism is in no society’s best interest. But this is what’s out there. And this one example, however despicable its theme, is relatively sanitized.

 

At the risk of outing myself as the ultimate philistine but with new-found respect for Jackson Pollock’s drippy canvases, I say this is not art nor its practitioners artists. Moreover, Truculence Incarnate and other “rap artists” are merely oxymoronic examples of what you can do with a rhyming dictionary, an anti-social ’tude, no meaningful job skills and a gullible marketplace not yet sated by cultural chaff passing for societal wheat. 

 

 In fact, let me take a few seconds, and I’ll demonstrate:

 

            “I’m a cultural diversity ho/ Knowin’ wiggers and liberals think it’s a show/

             I’m a dysfunctional menace, don’t you know/ Now let’s see how low/ This fukkin’

             bar will go.”

 

Sorry about that.

Pragmatics Pays Off For School District

The compromise decision reached by the Hillsborough County School District and the Hillsborough Classroom Teachers’ Association is a classic win-win. Call it a victory for common sense – and, most importantly – a triumph for students.

 

The agreement allows 130 senior teachers to be something other than regrettably retired and unfortunately unemployed. The averted scenario had called for their places to be taken by rookie teachers who would have made much less than those at the top of the pay scale.

 

As a result, saving money while shortchanging students won’t happen.

 

What it means is that those 130 senior teachers, an invaluable resource in these notably challenging times, will still be on the educational front lines where they can do the most good. And since the district/CTA agreement results in these (now non-retired) teachers being paid at a fifth-year rate ($39,800), the district will still save some $3.5 million.

 

In the end, ironically, the whole flap over bringing back retired teachers and the imperative to cut budgets proved a teachable moment.

Make Good Friday Better

Here we go again. Next year’s school calendar has been in the news, again, and that’s never good. Sure enough, Good Friday is officially a school day in Hillsborough County in 2010 and 2011.

 

Good luck.

 

To give credit where it’s deserved, the Hillsborough County School Board did the principled thing. And that is to not declare a religious-observance day a secular holiday. That’s because it shouldn’t be. It’s also because it leaves the school board open to similar claims from other faiths – and maybe even the formally faithless – who would, understandably, all want their designated religious holidays too.

 

But the principled thing is also the problematic thing. Last time Good Friday was a school day, students, teachers and bus drivers stayed away in droves. It created safety as well as curricular issues. It was also an educational travesty. And it would likely happen again.

 

So, the pragmatic thing is the only solution. Fortuitously enough, there’s regional precedent.  Some neighboring districts are doing something eminently sensible. They will adjust accordingly, and Good Friday will just have to be part of spring break. Period.

 

At least that enforces the non-travesty principle.

Crist Cheapshot The Real “Outrage”

Alerted by an online tease, I recently checked out a YouTube video on a Washington, D.C. co-anchor who had gotten more than feisty with a guest. The upshot was this: the TV journalist thought it was wrong, if not loathsome, for folks to take it upon themselves to “out” public officials who are closeted gays. In this case, via a newly released documentary film, Outrage.

 

I didn’t disagree with the co-anchor – only his heavy-handed, counter-productive, adversarial approach. Hypocrisy is a repellent character flaw, not a crime. And people, regardless of gender preference, are still entitled to a personal life, especially when the invasion of which could be life altering, if not shattering. In effect, judge not, especially if you are self appointed.

 

Anyway, in the course of the heated exchanges and in the context of Outrage, the name of Gov. Charlie Crist was dropped. Apparently he is referenced in the movie. According to the alternative weekly Creative Loafing, Outrage’s trailer features “a blurred shot of a politician who appears to be Crist.”

 

In other words, here comes the whispering campaign again. Perhaps it will have faded of its own revolting irrelevance by the time Florida’s high-stakes, moderate-vs.- conservative-values-candidate, senatorial primary gets geared up.

 

Perhaps.

Savvy Marketing Approach To Environment

Planning-designing-engineering firms are, by their nature, both methodical as well as flexible in their planning, designing and engineering work. They have to know construction permits, codes, guidelines and clients’ bottom-line needs and priorities – but also prevailing politics and prevalent players.

 

Now add threatened species expertise. At Florida-based WilsonMiller Inc., it’s part of making sure that clients are in compliance with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission’s management plan for gopher tortoises. Especially now that they’ve been uplisted by the State of Florida to a threatened species.

 

As a result, WilsonMiller can now claim three of its planners as certified Gopher Tortoise Authorized Agents, who are qualified to assess, trap and relocate gopher tortoises.

 

It’s sound environmentalism – and savvy marketing.

Eliminate White House Snubs

Here’s one tradition that needs to be reigned in: the ritual of the president of the United States meeting with all sorts of championship athletic teams. It’s no longer special; it’s routine. And in some cases, apparently, an inconvenience for some of the invited guests.

 

Recall the University of Florida’s Joachim Noah, who couldn’t be bothered with a coat or tie or a tucked-in shirt when the UF national championship basketball team paid a visit to the George W. Bush White House three years ago. But he did deign to show up.

 

More recently we have the case of James Harrison of the Super Bowl-winning Pittsburgh Steelers, who will again snub a president. It’s not that “big a deal,” he says and won’t tag along this month to meet with President Obama. There’s even precedent with Harrison, the NFL’s defensive player of the year. He was a jaded no-show when the Steelers met with President Bush in 2006 after their last Super Bowl win.

 

The point is this. An audience with the president should be special — not just another pro forma photo op session — and shouldn’t be parceled out to every high profile team that wins some championship. Especially at the professional level, where players are paid — often obscenely — to win championships.

 

Make an audience with the president of the United States relevant to the country. Make it for Olympians, including the Special variety, and maybe a World Cup team in the unlikely event that the U.S. ever wins one. Make it as meaningful as it is memorable.

Class Reunion Notice Prompts Reverie

Talk about a jolt.

 

I’ve just been informed that my eighth grade graduating class – St. Timothy’s Catholic School in the Northeast section of Philadelphia – will be gathering, at least in disparate parts, for a reunion. A 50th reunion.

 

Instant reverie of a half century ago.

 

To be sure, the Eisenhower Administration was holding up its end of the Cold War contretemps, and Fidel Castro had just toppled the Batista government in Cuba. And Hawaii would become the 50th state. On balance, we thought Jerry Lee Lewis was a lot more relevant.

 

At a much more parochial level, 1959 was also the year that Catholic school students were all properly apprised that Pope John XXIII was calling the first Ecumenical Council in nearly 100 years. We thought that was about as much fun as watching Milton Berle with our parents.

 

Personally, I was more concerned with an eighth grade crush on Eleanor Verdi, a spring sortie to West Philadelphia to get on Bandstand, the cool movie that was “Ben Hur” and the better-than-average prospects of the Eagles that year. The Phillies still stunk.

 

The reunion letter — who tipped them off? — referenced our graduating class of more than 180. We were divided into three sections, where the same nun taught the same 60-plus students everything – from religion to math – in the same classroom.

 

Imagine, 60-plus students per class. Boys on one side, girls on the other. Now is that not, Florida Class Size Amendment advocates, the teacher-to-student ratio from hell?  

 

But somehow, we learned. We didn’t know how pedagogically put-upon we were and how uncool it was to have to wear school ties and uniforms. What about fashion and our need to express our individuality?

 

We read a lot, wrote a lot, memorized a lot and homeworked a lot. We thought self esteem was something to be earned — not a separate curriculum.

 

Discipline was meted out summarily by the nuns. Most of the ones I had didn’t look like the answer to a central casting call for petite and pious looking extras for “The Song of Bernadette” or “The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima.” They mostly looked like they could have gone three rounds with Jake LaMotta.

 

Corporal punishment was administered to the usual class clowns – but the distraction to the rest of the class was minimal. That’s because the nuns had the ultimate leverage – your parents. They were all on the same side, and there was no copping a plea at home.

 

It was the Napoleonic Code. If the nun — and mine was Sister Charles Mary in eighth grade — said you were guilty of acting like a smart aleck, then you were. In fact, your parents — and back then they always came in pairs — had also seen that side of you.