YOU DON'T LOVE AMERICA

Rudy Giuliani's admirable effort to identify who does and who does not love America needs some fleshing out, some specific criteria. So here goes:

)  Unless you believe that Bill O'Reilly saw combat in the Falklands War, you don't love America.

)  Unless you view slavery as no more than a minor blemish on the nation's otherwise impeccable history, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that driving Native Americans from their lands and herding them onto reservations was no big deal, you don't love America.

)  Unless you believe that "enhanced interrogation" was a necessary response to 9/11 and was in no way incompatible with American principles of justice and morality, you don't love America.

)  Unless you consider Fox News to be the preeminent voice of fairness, objectivity, and rationality in the American media, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that the top one percent deserve everything they have acquired by fair means or foul, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that poor people have no one to blame but themselves, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that only Christians can be full-fledged Americans, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that climate change is the figment of some effete liberal's imagination, you don't love America.

)  Unless you think that an appropriate response to policy disputes is to shut down the government, you don't love America.

THE LITTLE WOMAN TAKES A TUMBLE

So Cranky is on the porcelain throne for his morning constitutional. Things are going smoothly, no backups, no traffic jams, no erratic vehicles. The throne room is on the second floor of Cranky’s dwelling, just off the top of the stairs from the first floor.

Suddenly there’s a tremendous crash followed by considerable thumbing and bumping as some sort of disaster descends the stairway. Cranky instantly knows what has occurred: the little woman, who has a bad knee, has taken a tumble. And Cranky knows what he must do: go to her aid.

But there’s the problem of his not-yet-completed effort on the porcelain throne. A vehicle is even then coming around the final curve. Should Cranky leap up immediately and go to provide aid? Should he wait on the descending vehicle? And what about cleaning the highway? Should the effort be limited to a cursory swipe? Should a full clean-up be performed?

Cranky mulls over the alternatives for some moments. Perhaps in his younger days he could have made a quicker decision. But aging affects one’s decision-making ability. Indeed, after a bit and no further noise from the stairs, Cranky begins to lose his grasp on what the issue is. He recovers, however, and settles upon the cursory swipe. Then he is up, out the door, and to the top of the stairs.

The little woman is lying on some soft luggage that had been at the bottom of the stairs. Cranky yells down, "You OK?"

"Ugh," she replies.

 

"OK, let me finish up and I'll be right down," says Cranky, returning to the throne room. He is aware that the highway could use more than a cursory swipe.