Florida Creates Poster Child for Reproductive Rights
Florida, America’s Wang, has been the most shameless corner of the vast right-wing conspiracy for years now. A phenomenon recently lampooned by Tom Tomorrow, policy makers in Florida pick the most ridiculous fights to stoke the flames of their supporters’ torch-and-pitchfork ensembles, even if the fights are completely contradictory to their own rhetoric.
Now comes the latest, a judge has ruled that a 13-year-old girl cannot decide for herself to have an abortion. Judge Ronald Alvarez ruled that the girl is too young and immature to make the momentous decision to have an abortion by herself, plus, he claims he is concerned about the potential effect of an abortion on her physical and emotional health. Now, first of all, a full-term pregnancy and labor is a lot riskier for a little girl than a first-trimester abortion, and, secondly, if the girl is too immature to choose an abortion, how in the hell could she be considered mature enough for motherhood? But, most galling is the fact that under the law in Florida, which does not have a “parental consent” requirement for minors seeking abortions, the choice is the girl’s, and hers alone. Judge Alvarez is, in fact, engaging in judicial activism!
What’s really going on here is that Jeb Bush is pandering to the same “culture of life” crowd that made Terri Schiavo’s last days such a media circus. Under his orders, the Department of Children and Families, sought the initial restraining order preventing the girl, a runaway who is under DCF foster care, from getting an abortion. The DCF cites a contradictory law that prohibits the department from consenting to an abortion for a minor in state care (so, kids who live with their families can choose for themselves, but kids under state care need state permission?!). The injunction is temporary, pending psychological exams that the department requested and the judge has granted. The girl, who is 14 weeks pregnant, is in a race against the clock before state law tells her she is too far along to get an abortion. Bush and the DCF intend to run down the clock.
Ironically, as the Terri Schiavo circus was going on, I remarked to some friends that those of us on the civil rights side of the culture war need to be as cut-throat and calculated as the right, and named this very scenario, a young girl being prevented by the state from having an abortion in time, threatening to force her to have a child that she could not possibly care for when she herself is a child, as the kind that we could champion in the same manner as the right exploited Schiavo. Zany Florida just made this scenario real. It’s time for some wacky protester hijinks from our side.
The Torch, Rekindled
The blue-line proofs of the new issue of “The Torch” came back from the printer today. Perhaps it was the contact high from the weird blue ink they use, but I’m really excited with the way it turned out.
The Torch is the Journal of the Young People’s Socialist League. It’s my first issue as editor in five years. I am a little long in the tooth for any kind of young people’s league, but, after nine years in the organization (including a four-year stint as National Secretary and a three-year stint as Torch editor), I can’t just up and leave. I’ve basically been playing a supportive, back-seat role until I turn 30 and have to be sent to Sanctuary.
That was until a handful of comrades, including Mary Loritz (known to my friends, for a time, as “that girl on the couch”), asked me to get The Torch going again after the last editor gave up. I couldn’t resist a project like that, especially given my current state of redundancy. I’ll likely only publish a handful of issues before handing over the reins to an actual youth.
The new issue features an excellent cover story by Jonathan Mertzig about the “Post-Graduation Blues.” It’s in a similar vein as those Village Voice articles about “Generation Debt,” except Jonathan, being a working class kid who went to a state school, is a lot more sympathetic than some NYU art school graduate on food stamps. My friend Sarah Stefanko wrote about moving to Canada in order to live with her girlfriend. Mary (“of the couch”) wrote a really terrific piece about SEIU’s childcare workers organizing drive, which she worked on as an intern. Sam Morales, my comrade here in the Socialist Party of New York City wrote about the IWW’s effort to organize Starbucks workers. There are a couple more shorter articles and some wonderful illustrations by Aimee Ingles, as well as news, editorials and an advice column from my mysterious roommate, pinkocommiebastard.
I’ll post links to article excerpts as they go online. Eventually, there will be a full PDF of issue #42 posted. First, we’re going to mail the issue to YPSL members and use the issue’s exclusivity to entice new members. I’ll probably be carrying a handful of copies wherever I go, as soon as they come back from the printer (later this week), so ask for one when you see me. Otherwise you can e-mail YPSL for a copy and a membership application.
Wal-Mart, Wal-Mart, Wal-Mart
A new-to-me website called Wal-Mart Watch is countering Wal-Mart’s “Made in America” rhetoric with details on Wal-Mart’s sweatshop factories in China. More good ammo as you take on Wal-Mart.
They ask people with websites to link to them using the word Wal-Mart. See, Google and other search engines base their result, at least partly, on how many instances a certain term is linked to a certain URL. Websites that expose the true costs of Wal-Mart’s cheap underwear should rank highly when people search the web for Wal-Mart.
Say it with me. Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart.
Shaun Needs a Friend
It’s become pretty obvious that I am in desperate need of a new friend; the kind whose friendship and loyalty are entirely dependent on my paying for dinner and providing a place to spend the night, the kind who’ll tear up my papers, scratch my furniture and get hair everywhere. Enough pulling dying cats out of the gutter, it’s time to adopt a pet.
I’ve been thinking for awhile about getting a cat. They seemed like low maintenance. When I’m working, I can be out of the apartment for 12-14 hours a day, and, being an apartment, there’s no backyard here. But I just don’t understand cats. They bite and scratch when they’re playing. They’re finicky. Plus, I don’t have anyone in the neighborhood to take care of them when I leave town for school or work.
Dogs, I know. I’ve had dogs for about as long as I’ve been alive. I miss having a dog. I still drop food on my kitchen floor, expecting a mongrel to hungrily scarf it up. I miss catch. I miss walks. I miss seeing a long nose poking out my window when I return home. Plus, I can drop off a dog at my folks’ place when I leave town; Alfred could use a friend, too.
So, I started looking for a dog today. I went to the North Shore Animal League. I need an older dog, at least six months but preferably older. I think I need a big, lazy dog. My friend Greg says that big dogs get along well in apartments because “all they do is sit around and fart anyway.” I’d prefer a female. They tend to be calmer and gentler, but mainly I’m not fond of the dangling boy bits. The important qualities are calm, gentle and friendly.
North Shore Animal League’s website is impressively up-to-date. I saw almost all of these dogs at the shelter. I spent an hour with Thelma. She was very shy and scared, much like Alfred was when we got him from the shelter. However, after an hour, she still seemed indifferent to me and wanted nothing more than to return to her cage. A dog like that would likely become fiercely loyal after the first night (and meal) spent at my apartment. I got cold feet because I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon, which would only take about three hours, but I would want to spend the first few days at home with a dog like that and get her acclimated.
Plus, adopting a dog is like buying a home or a car in that you don’t want to just snatch up the first one you see.
I didn’t spend time with Samson, but, in his cage, his demeanor reminded me of the quiet nobility of K.C., the dog my grandparents had while I was growing up. Same black and white coloring, to boot.
So, the search continues. There’s a pet adoption event in Astoria next Saturday that I’ll probably go to, and I’ll likely return to North Shore the following weekend.
I know that I have about 30 loyal readers by now, all of them friends, so I expect your help. Leave a comment or e-mail me.
Finally, I want to say a few good words about the North Shore Animal League. My family has adopted two dogs from the shelter, each an integral and long-standing member of the family. The first was Sophie, a sweet, energetic Corgie-mix that my parents adopted when I was still in diapers. I grew up with Sophie, who was my oldest and best friend when she died 17 years later. Below, at top-left, is a picture of a visit upstate, when we were both pups. My grandparents had a working farm at the time, which included a small herd of goats. Still a nipper, Sophie immediately herded them into a circle, but she had no clue what to do with them once in the circle. Natural instinct is an amazing thing. Top-right, is a pic of the two of us when she was much older.
 Me and Sophie, both pups. |
 My oldest best friend. |
Alfred, pretty much as he looks today (I’m not quite as baby-faced).
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 Alfred, as a high-flying puppy. |
A year or two after Sophie passed away, we got Alfie from the same shelter. He is the sweetest, most gentle dog I have ever known, even if he is a bit of a cry-baby weenie. (Above, top-right, is Alfie before he was fully grown, still possessing the energy of a puppy. Top-left is, more of less, what he looks like today.)
North Shore rescued Alfie from a shelter down south that was preparing to euthanize him. North Shore is a no-kill shelter. The staff and volunteers are gentle, caring and knowledgeable. It’s a shelter that deserves your support.