[EN]

我在大學第一次接觸到美國的黑人文化，也因此，我成為了更好的人。慕迪聖經學院(Moody Bible Institute)距離Cabrini Green不到一個街區。我教Pierre怎麼游泳，他則教會了我如何原諒。我的室友Ronnie，曾是非洲人覺醒學生組織的主席。他花了三年試圖告訴我，問題是在系統之中的，「是系統，Jesse。它隱蔵在系統之中，我知道你並未察覺，但它充斥在我每天的生活中。」，我聆聽著，但我依然無法看到他口中的問題。

而在台灣生活了十年，打開了我的眼界。Ronnie，我看到它了。我終於不單單只是聽到它，我終於用我自己的眼睛看到它了。我也看到了，其他人沒看到，尤其是當他們身在其中。

如果有個人認為他不正義的舉動是可以被接受的，那就沒有任何方法在他這樣想的情況下告訴他他的所作所為是不正義的。藉此，我知道Rosa Parks感受如何。我完全贊同馬丁．路德．金恩博士在『從伯明罕市監獄發出的信』所提到的:

「到處都是不正義之事，不論在哪都對正義是種威脅。」

「我們再也承受不起與狹隘的、偏狹的『外部煽動』的主意共處了。」

「我們可以很簡單地同意，當時機到來時我們達到我們的期望。我在這裡是因為我被邀請至此。但更根本的原因是，因為不正義在此。」

台灣人們需要西方人。他們在他們的機場和市場歡迎西方人。但他們需要的是西式的訓練和西方的思考方式，工程師為了抵抗區域內強大的侵略者而建造屬於他們的防衛性武器。台灣需要英文老師­­；而更重要的是他們需要每天和英語母語者交流。然而，因為對岸那個巨大的威脅，以及過去被殖民的傷痛，台灣制定法律限制所有的外國人。台灣因為過去，而拒絕他們未來需要的朋友。我們都做過一樣的事情，對吧?

我接下來要說些很無聊的細節，請大家忍受一下了。在美國，工作簽證能夠給你居留權，五年之後外國人可以成為公民。相較於美國，台灣比較複雜，台灣在這方面有著許多奇怪的限制，例如:你如果在星期一被解雇，而你在禮拜三才找到新工作，你的五年就要重算；而且如果你被開單，五年也要重算；且證明這五年是有效的，需要多次的工作允許證來證明，但政府不直接給我，而是給我的老闆，而我的老闆從來沒有給過我。即便你上述條件都符合，你要成為公民還需要放棄你原先的國籍。

我的故事從12年前開始，我的老闆不給我我的工作許可，然而法律上只有要求但並非強迫他要給我，所以我只好把我的工作許可偷來，並藏在我的領帶裡，然後回家爆哭一頓。我遇到的下一個老闆，他依然不給我工作許可。因此我向警察和移民署求助，那個接我電話的警察大喊:「他們必須要給你」，然而他們就沒有後續的處理了。

很快的，在地的勞工督察找上了我，但是是在我不該出現的補習班找到了我，我當時在一間連鎖補習班工作，但我完全不知道我到底該在哪裡上班，我工作地址是用中文寫在那我從來沒收到過的工作許可上的，接著我收到了督察的傳喚，我的老闆超級擔心，叫我對政府單位說謊，我們甚至為了我要怎麼說謊開了一個會，老闆的老闆用奇怪方式和我握手，我感覺我的生命受到了威脅。我的公司的所作所為就是為了欺騙政府好躲過審查，當時我和我老闆坐在一起，對著勞工局的督察(一個人很好且在乎你，但沒什麼權力的人)撒謊，而我老闆的老闆則是進入了他們長官的辦公室，偽善的和他聊天著。那個長官看起來嚇壞了。最後，我為了那出於被威脅而說的謊言押上了我的指紋，我們就像什麼都沒發生的樣子離開了。

幾個禮拜後，我才知道原來那個詭異的握手是性暗示，我這才知道自己被性騷擾了，並且如果我不聽他們的向政府說謊和同意那個性要求，他們打算找他們的黑道朋友找我麻煩，而我拒絕了那個要求，或許這就是幾個月後公司想把我炒了的原因，且開除員工需要給付資遣費，而他們一向拒絕給付。

在合約結束前兩周，老闆基於我自願性的回報工作進度，他們突然說要進行一場考核，就為了找出為什麼我的教學進度落後一頁，而且他們表示絕對不會跟我續約。荒謬的是，正常情況下任何老師的教學進度都差不多落後表定三頁左右。

法律上，老闆應該要接受我的辭職，但他拒絕了。為此我去了兩趟警察局，但警察卻從不強迫老闆送出相關信件。接著，老闆舉報我無故缺席(這對外國勞工是違法的)，然而聰明如我，我早就向勞工局提出我想要辭職的渴望，我給了那個勞工局的督察(上面提到的那個，人很好且在乎你，但沒什麼權力的人)寄了一封信件，裡面內容包含了我承認自己當時做了偽證以及證據，我還附上了一張CD裡面有著我老闆說:「我恨外國人的」的錄音。那個督察收到我的信件後，安排了一場調解會議，然後打電話通知我一定要帶上台灣朋友翻譯。

這場會議持續了三個小時，而結果以老闆接受我辭職收場。這是個突破，過往雇主和外籍勞工的爭執，往往都沒有達成協議，然後告上法庭或是勞工被驅逐出境，而我是台南的第一個成功的先例。

我問了那個陪我去調解的朋友，為什麼我的老闆一開始要在我的工作地點上說謊，我想不到任何理由要在一個事實並不傷害人的的情況下說謊。他回答:「因為文化大革命。老一輩的人受到了毛主席很大的影響，包含像他這樣說謊。」，他也告訴我那個大老闆控制了當地的「英文教學界的黑幫」之類的東西。

不久後我前公司的同事跟我說，那個人很好的督察在看到我的情形後，決定繼續觀察那間公司，然後那個補習班倒了三間，那間補習班突然間對我的那位前同事很好、很尊重他，他們過去也曾試著要開除他，我很開心她的處境有了好轉。

不久後，我之前的直屬上司因為他們之前對我做過的糟糕事也辭職了。她改行去拿更多薪水而且還更少壓力的工廠工作。我也很為她高興。

然而，我的下一個工作的老闆告訴我，因為我的前老闆一直騷擾牠們，所以他們必須要辭退我。現在回頭看，我不知道我怎麼度過那段艱困的歲月的。我想是神的指引吧。

移民局的員工、市政府的工作人員、和兩個立委助理都問我:「為什麼我不搬去台北，那裏有更多工作機會，而且這樣你的前老闆也沒辦法找你麻煩。」

每當遇到有人欺凌，他們往往選擇屈服。這是過去蔣介石時代所留下的遺毒，正如以色列人因為受過埃及人的統治，就害怕前往他們的應許之地。這正是台灣人的困境!所以針對上述的問題，我的答案是慈祥的、有力的且令人安心的「絕不!」，可沒有任何一條法律禁止美國人在台南教英文，也因此政府應該要保護一個願意跟台南人民共處的美國人!而且台南人們的英文跟台北比起來也需要更加進步。台灣的政府依然不打算幫助我，而我甘願受苦是因為我愛台南。

而唯一給我幫助的，是一個了解問題所在但從來沒直接跟我說話的人­­­—那個勞工局的督察(上面提到的那個，人很好且在乎你，但沒什麼權力的人)。

那些用著孩子般天真的態度問我為什麼不搬到台北去的人們，他們並不知道他們這樣的言論不單單只是歧視我而已，同時也歧視了台南人們。許多西方人住在人口繁雜的北部，但在台南有著許多令人喜悅的事。台灣人以訛傳訛的以為因為它是個大城市，因此西方人較喜歡台北。但實際上，是因為勞動部對南部的小型的英文補習班和北部的有錢英文補習班有一樣的要求，造成了他們沉重的財政負擔，進而造成台南的補習班並沒有足夠的經費去合法的雇用美國人，所以他們需要從黑市找人，而傳聞我的前老闆控制了那個黑市貿易。儘管因為台北的法規，台南和台北不太可能有黑市方面的連結，但我看到更重要的是:

西方人避免來到台南因為當地的英文補習班市場被不可見的黑市控制了，而這不只傷害到我，也傷害了選擇保持無知的台灣人。

而我也因此知道，當非常接近問題的人選擇不正視問題，系統將會壓迫人們。事實上，台灣人並不知道勞動法規是怎麼殘害台南的英文教學。台灣人和我一樣都是系統性偏見的受害者，我上述的複雜情況(那些不合理的要求…)，都在殘害著台灣人渴望的英文能力。但如果台灣對美國人就像美國人對台灣一樣:維護他們的權益和保護他們，問題將不復存在。倘若如此，許多美國人取得雙重國籍將可以讓他們有資格在任何地方工作(包含較沒經費的南部英文補習班等等….)。

然而儘管經歷了11年的請願，台灣政府依然不允許這種情況發生。並且，當因為台灣的邦交國紛紛跟台灣斷交，台灣在請求幫助時，他們並不知道他們對待移民的法律也是造成他們如今處境的一部分原因。

故事最精采的部分來了，我之前工作的那個英文補習班接受了美國政府的公共資金。我打給了他們的美國辦公室去通報這件事，但他們直接一聲不吭的把我的電話掛斷。而我不會透露消息來源，因為消息取得的方式是違法的，我想幫台灣人民，幫助他們抵抗那些政府睜一隻眼閉一隻眼的不誠實的企業。12年過去了，時日至今，我依然期盼一個對當年事件的回覆。

七年以來，我每個禮拜一都會寫一篇以客觀角度並且尊重台灣有事實主權的方式的社論，但我承認我有時候會偏袒台灣。2014年時，我稱讚台灣警察並沒有對闖入立法院的學生使用暴力，因為我在台灣我才了解，這跟華盛頓的警察形成了對比，那些闖入美國行政部門的學生就沒台灣的學生那麼幸運了。蔡英文總統曾說:「台灣是個充滿活力的民主國家，我們有許多問題，但都值得去解決。」，她借用了我寫給美國國會的信中的字。

在過去的12年，我從來沒有沒有公開過我的控告者的名字，也沒有發布可以從中知道我在何處的文章，我這麼做為的就是和平。我知道台灣需要時間去改變，但至今我依然沒看到改變，工作許可依然由老闆把持著，取得雙重國籍的權力依舊不存在。

我曾經兩次向政府申請永久居留權。第一次，委員會對此的投票結果是否定的，我可以證明那一次的會議是失序的，因為政府為了否決我而毫不掩飾把數分鐘的的會議寄給我。我以對媒體業的貢獻，並且向他們表達我未平息的冤屈以及我的耐心，還有最重要的—沉默，向他們第二次申請。對我的申請的回覆應該是90天，而移民署超過兩百天都並沒有對於委員會的投票給我一個正式的回覆。

我唯一的結論是愛，我無法因為這系統性的問題而恨台灣。黑人並不會因為我系統性的歧視而恨我，我並不知道我對他們做了什麼­­—因為我身在這系統之中因此我無法了解和看到它，我們不應該為我們自己找藉口，但黑人並非為了什麼目的而小題大作。我培養我成白人共和黨人，我必須學著去聆聽黑人就如同我知道台灣人如果想了解我是必要聆聽我所說的話。

這個訊息曾是我渴望讓美國人知道的:我們系統內看不到的不公義導致了貧窮!但我想，我如果這樣做將會傷害到台灣人，而現在，經歷了等待那期限應該是90天的回覆兩百多天後，我想移民署並不會在乎。

當然，我有很多我認為真的很好的台灣朋友，許多都是滑板人。為什麼我會選擇台南，一個在台灣滑板受到最多限制的城市(滑板場和法律)?台南有充滿天賦的滑手，就跟其他地方的滑手依樣有著好勝心跟天分。在任何系統中的不公義會影響每一個部分。面對問題，我從不逃避，不論是大是小。要離開朋友真的是一件很困難的事，尤其是他們用他們的耐心改變了我的人生，過去12年台灣打開了我的眼界，讓我了解了黑人艱難的處境，它讓我更了解我的家鄉，因為它不斷拒絕我得請求，並且我一直試著和他們溝通。

我無法拒絕台灣人，他們教我太多了。  · · · →

College was my first exposure to American Black culture. I’m a far better man for it. Moody was less than a block from Cabrini Green. I taught Pierre how to swim and he taught me how to forgive. My room mate, Ronnie, was president of African Awareness Fellowship. Three years, he tried to tell me that the problem was with “the system”. “It’s the system, Jesse. It’s hidden in the system. I know you don’t see it. But, I see it every day.” I listened, but I still couldn’t see.

Ten years in Taiwan opened my eyes. Ronnie, I’ve seen it. I haven’t just heard about it, I’ve finally seen it with my own eyes. Others don’t see it, especially if they’re part of it. I’ve seen that too.

If a man thinks his unjust actions are acceptable, there is no way to tell him that he is unjust in a way he will find acceptable.  · · · →

I was talking with a random guy on the street, somewhere in Asia. English was clearly his second language, though my Mandarin clearly had no comparison to his English. He didn't speak Mandarin, though. Things got interesting when he used the word "oftenly".

"I skate oftenly," he said.

Oftenly...

Technically, oftenly is not usually a word, but technically it is, but technically it's the wrong word. The word he meant to use was "frequently". If he wanted to say that he skated from time to time, specifically times that are so frequent that they "occur oftenly" (proper usage because the verb occur is about time), it would have been proper to say, "I skate often."

What's the difference and who cares, anyway!?

English speakers love to argue about grammatical distinctions that clearly provide no further clarity—and may even be right—or even wrong and right differently—and to make such arguments about these clearly unclear differences about right and wrong usage differently, even though they have nothing to do with the difference between right and wrong. And, I still have no idea why.

I even asked my friend whether in his country they liked to argue about nothing as much as English speakers did. Absolutely not! It was almost as comical for him to observe me deliberating with myself about the difference between "often" and "oftenly" as it is for a Brit to watch Monte Python banter about British nothingness—notwithstanding that it is most entertaining to watch the Brit be entertained by the bantering banterer, but I digress.

How should we ever know that we ought use the -ly suffixed adverb "frequently" and the non-suffixed "often" interchangeably in the same sentence? It all comes down to English style guide preferences.

In typical, classroom, American English, words like "tomorrow" and "yesterday" are considered adverbs. This may seem strange—and I do think it is strange indeed. Usually, adverbs describe manner or the way in which a verb is acted out.

Consider "eating". "I eat quickly." This makes sense with the adverb "quickly" as the eating is done in a quick manner. But, if I will eat "tomorrow", is the manner in which I will eat described with any more clarity? Does the word "tomorrow" really behave like an adverb?

As with "tomorrow", even if I eat multiple times everyday, "often" just doesn't seem to describe the manner of eating as much it describes the days and times when I eat; but "frequenly" does describe some of the manner. And, that brings me to Cambridge.

Cambridge has a different take than Amercia's 20th century classroom; "yesterday" and "tomorrow" are not adverbs—they are pronouns.

From the English style viewpoint of Cambridge, words like "tomorrow" don't tell one ounce about the manner and speed with which a verb is acted out. Rather, "tomorrow" represents a day as much as "me" represents myself, Jesse Steele, the writer of this ridiculously multi-topicked article with a grammatically incorrect title.

Now, I must add my own two cents about understanding grammar. By "tomorrow" being a pronoun, saying, "I will eat tomorrow," doesn't mean that I plan to eat the actual day of Thursday should I happen to be speaking on a Wednesday. In this "case", the pronoun "tomorrow" would have the "Locative Case" usage of "place in time", but that is a discussion—and an argument in favor—of grammatical noun case applicability to English. And, though I don't want to keep digressing, if using the Cambridge style, it does help to clarify the usage of "tomorrow" by identifying its functional "noun case" and while classifying it as a "modifier noun". If that doesn't make sense, that's okay, it's only two cents.

Where was I?—tomorrow!

If we view "tomorrow" and "yesterday" and words of the like as pronouns that represent days, then we would easily know that "often" is also a pronoun for time—whether time of day or any given day or month, year, et cetera. And, we already know that pronouns do not receive the adverbial suffix, -ly. "Often" should be considered a pronoun, just as "tomorrow", "today", "yesterday", and "everyday" for that matter.

Now I'm wondering, with the Cambridge style, if I were to describe an activity whose manner is best described as done in a "tomorrow" -like manner, would I say that I, "do it tomorrowly."? I think the best answer would be, if you can't save an adverb's life, it's more merciful to kill it quickly. After all, in any well-described writing, adverbs would be a redundancy, which is another argument in favor of Cambridge—"tomorrow" isn't an adverb, so there's nothing wrong with using it. But, I digress yet again.

In conclusion, we understand that the Cambridge style for English usage helps us to clear up this "often" problem. Proper usage is, "I skate frequently and often," because "frequently" is an adverb while "often", like "tomorrow", is a pronoun.

Needless to say, my friend was quite amused at the remarkable time English speakers have with which to dedicate concern about use of language. But, it is likely that he will "frequently and often" use the word "often" properly and correctly in the future. Thank you Cambridge.

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Sometimes in Asia, dogs have the run of the town. They don't really have dog catchers like in the West. Many consider it cruel to neuter pets. I mean, lots of homeless cats and dogs, no animal control to catch them, let them roam the streets and starve, get hit, or get attacked by other stray animals—so much more "humane" than neutering pets, right?

That's the world in which Bogo and I met. I named him "Bogo" for this article because, frankly, he didn't have a name. "Bo" is a manly name for "love" and "go" sounds like the Mandarin word for "dog". The name sounds right for an Asian pet. So, this is a story about Bogo, the black mutt who lived on the streets in Asia.

I first noticed him at local convenience shops. He was young and, for whatever reason, never got acquainted with the other dogs. He had no pack. Most street dogs have at least one dog friend, usually a pack of three or even twenty. Sometimes they roam the streets at night, dogs of every breed and size. It's almost like a dog-lover's movie.

Bogo never ran with any of those packs. He was always alone, yet somehow happy.

He was skinny. His ribs were pronounced. He was timid, yet not sorry for existing. When I saw him sleeping on the floor of the convenience shop, I had seen him once before, perhaps. But, that was the first time that we really got acquainted.

In Asia, dogs run in and out of convenience shops all the time. Don't get me started on health code. A dog in a convenience shop is cleaner than most outdoor food vendors. Besides, the germs strengthen the immune system. I never heard of anyone getting sick from a dog like Bogo. But, this was the first time I ever saw a dog sleeping inside a convenience store.

Maybe there just wasn't a safe place for him in the streets. The other packs probably chased him away. Or, maybe he was smart and liked the air conditioner for sleeping during the tropical summer. Maybe the other dogs didn't like him because he was the only canine with a luxury dog's taste for air conditioning.

Bogo seemed to gel well with humans.

After about six months, some things began to change with Bogo. I wouldn't only see him on the street at a distance anymore. He began to get friendly. In fact one time, he let me pet him! That's not normal for a dog who didn't grow up in a home.

He didn't have the best etiquette. He's jump up on me. If I told him to get down, he thought I was either trying to play or hurt him. He was always wild at heart, even though he preferred the company of humans. Bogo was a "spicy-sweet", just as the Taiwanese like their sauce.

Not long after he nosed me and let me pet him, Bogo started following me around. One night, I was at a BBQ with the neighbors when Bogo crashed the party. He was enamored by the fact that everyone was eating, but he rejected the food we gave him!

I finally tossed him a piece of toast. He picked it up, tried to bite it, then dropped it, uninterested. "You have to teach the dog by example," I said to one of the party guests. I scooped up the toast Bogo had dropped in the road, took a big bite out of it, chomped it down, then threw the rest back at Bogo. Bogo stared at me in awe, then picked it up, and ate the thing whole! The Asian party guests were in shock. You mean that a dog can understand humans?

That's the world in which Bogo and I met.

Of course a dog can understand humans. But, Bogo loved humans. So, he started to play bite with me. That sent the party guests on a whole new learning curve about dogs. They couldn't believe the dog was "biting" me, yet I wasn't bleeding.

Actually, Bogo did break the skin just a little on the back of my hand. But, it wasn't anything big. My hands smelled like dog for two days after that. He'd play too rough. When I smacked him for play biting too hard, he snapped back as if he didn't understand why I had just gently smacked his face. Bogo was always wild at heart, a "spicy-sweet" who loved humans.

A few days later, I had to call the police to report a hit-and-run in the parking lot. I had the plate number, hehehe. When the police showed up, so did Bogo the friendly dog. "New chew friend!" he must have thought to himself as he started play biting one of the young officer's hands. The police were quite entertained by Bogo, but not as much as Bogo was enthralled by them. I mean, think of it—more humans who love him.

In the days that followed, Bogo became more and more friendly in the neighborhood. He'd walk right in and out of the local convenience shops, almost as if he was exercising his status to use the automatic door like the "rest" of the humans. Everyone got acquainted with him. He was the friendly local dog.

I'd see Bogo 100 meters down the street and call to him. He'd come bounding to chase me on my motorcycle, all the way home. Quick play bite, a few words of wisdom that he probably couldn't understand beyond, "He's talking to me!" then I'd step inside and close the front door. The last time I remember him doing that, he smiled at me ear to ear and didn't even try to play bite. It was almost as if he just wanted to say, "I get it. You make sense to me. We can play, but I don't have to. I get it. Thank you. I'm so happy that you helped me get it."

I couldn't have adopted him because he was wild at heart. He wouldn't be happy penned up in a small, Asian house. The first time he went inside, he might have gotten scared and then, bye bye, Bogo!

It was almost prophetic, like the foreshadowing of a novel. At least two daily devotionals from different books were about the death of a loved one. It was too depressing for me. Those devotionals had a positive and encouraging tone—they'll be okay, God is near to us in such times, do not despair... But, I still put down those articles while reading because I just didn't want to think about death. What relevance did it have to that particular week, anyway? Why was I getting the "death is natural, don't be sad" message from so many directions?

Then, it happened. I was walking to a local convenience shop and I saw several neighbors out on the street. A dog had been hit in the road. The body was gone by the time I arrived on the scene. It was a small black dog. It made a big, bloody mess. One of the local shop owners had purchased several liters of bottled drinking water to wash the blood out of the street. It left a stain that is still there today.

At first, I wasn't sure if it was Bogo or not. But, he didn't show up the next day or the next after that. Weeks went by and no Bogo. Bogo went missing after a dog died having his description. I know how put two and two together.

I don't get my teaching of the afterlife from myself nor do I get it from other people who get it from themselves. I get my teaching of the afterlife from the Bible. And, I've seen quite good Bible-based evidence that pets might be in Heaven. Animals have emotions which are intangible, a "spirit"; but they are not sentient, so they have no soul. Just as our life lessons and friendships endure, the spirits of animals we love and train will, in all likelihood, see us again.

I'm not so sure that all dogs go to Heaven, only the dogs with big hearts, who loved because they were loved.

Bogo was a homeless dog, but he wasn't friendless and he isn't homeless anymore.

Why did all that happen? Why did a large puppy—Bogo was no more than a year old—suddenly drop in, dog-friendless, sleeping on our floors, befriending everyone, then get run over on a street where dogs never even get bumped? I miss Bogo annoying me every time I arrive at my front door. Why did all that happen?

Did our community not love enough? Did we need a love to lose so we might love each other a little more?

I can't believe we did something wrong to not prevent Bogo's death, especially with all those "don't despair when loved ones die" messages I kept getting the days before Bogo departed. A dog catcher isn't the answer since we never would have known Bogo. I can't blame the driver since Bogo is jet black and so is the pavement. Dogs sleep in the road all the time in that neighborhood and never, ever get hit, making this even more unusual.

I suppose I could blame the other dogs for making him sleep in the road instead of letting him sleep with them, but had he not been excommunicated from "Dogianity" I might have never gotten to know him. None of us would.

This world was unworthy of a dog like Bogo. There was no place for him. Dogs rejected him. He wouldn't be happy in a home. The streets are dangerous for a dog captivated by every human he sees. It just wouldn't work.

For a few days, the other dogs bugged out. No strays wanted to get close to where Bogo got plowed over. I thought they had moved, but you know how territorial dogs are. After a week, the packs were back. But, they were a little quieter. In fact, since Bogo left, everything has seemed more peaceful. Maybe his spirit really does live on.

He loved humans more than other dogs. His last day was his happiest. One night, he was hit by a car. He died surrounded by friends whose hearts he touched. Neighbors held vigil in the street, giving him a human farewell, just as many Asian funerals take place in the street.

So, there we have it. Somewhere in Asia, a dog with a big heart, a big family, and no home died. He was posthumously named Bogo.

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"Open the door, mate! Please, just open the door."

Knocks continued as I took my shower at the hostel in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. It's not every day that your shower gets interrupted by a drunken Britt from Birmingham needing to, well, more kindly than he put it "relieve himself".

I knew who the guy was. We had talked recently and I didn't feel in any danger. In fact, danger hadn't even crossed my mind. I have no problem letting a bro into the bathroom when nature calls. I mean, a man's gotta' do what a man's gotta' do when a man's gotta' do it.

"Well, I need a moment." My body was covered in soap and I wasn't about to trudge soap across the floor.

"Please! Just open the door. I just have to take a [leak]. I'm drunk and I gotta' go!"

"Coming." I wrapped my towel around my waist and opened the door.

"Thank you so much mate. Ahhhh..." He probably relieved himself for a good two minutes, almost falling backwards twice.

Again, I really didn't mind letting him in. He had a delightful Cockney Birmingham accent, after all. In fact, so he claims, that driving cap I have was invented in Birmingham and, in his words, "You got to be a Birmie to wear one of those."

How did it all start?

I had walked into the hostel earlier that night to meet Shelly for the first time. She seemed exhausted, yet calm in a charming sort of way. I asked and she told me some of her journey. She had a semi-crazy trip. I'll spare the details, except to say that I asked, "What's a brilliant girl like you doing partying? You should be up at 5:00 A.M. interviewing shop owners, building a contact book, and making a journal of your discoveries."

"You know, you're right, actually," she said.

I gave her the boilerplate advice, which somehow never seems so obvious: Study what you hate, do what you love. It's not always true, but what a resume builder, eh? "I travel the world because I love people, I speak three languages, but I studied accounting and pre-MBA in college to keep myself well-rounded." Who wouldn't hire someone like that?

"I must introduce you to Heather," I said at last. "Heather is from a country right next to yours and she's quite similar. She's traveling with her friend, Brianna, which I can never pronounce to her liking."

Shelly was from central Europe and had just worked for an airline. She told me a story about a tough customer she once had, how airline employees must always wear a smile, even while laying down the law, even while being threatened.

...Airline employees must always wear a smile.

And, that was Shelly. Even after the rough story of travels she had been through, here she was, all in one piece, calm as a cucumber. In many ways, I envy her.

In walked Heather and Brianna. "There they are," I exclaimed. The three ladies got acquainted on the porch that evening in Saigon while I took to the shower. I had an early flight to catch and wanted to get to sleep early.

So, here I was in the shower—kind of—trying to keep a drunk "Birmie" from falling down while relieving himself. "Oh, thanks so much, mate! I'm so drunk."

"It's alright. I understand." We just have to wear that smile no matter what...

I finished my shower and made my way out to the porch to find our Birmie friend chatting it up with the three ladies on the porch. After a minute or two, his other Birmie friend showed up.

"Oh, please," one of the fellas said. "Just a little more massage."

"But, I already gave you three. You're quite relaxed as it is."

"I still want the full massage."

"But, you can't do everything all at one time."

That's very true.

Time to distract. "Jesse, what was it you said you were working on with your website?"

"It was a list of words. Many non-native speakers have trouble with some English sounds..."

"Get off of my bed! I want to sleep!"

"Don't bother Breeann," I say.

"No, no, no! It's Brianna," she corrected.

Her friend piped in. "Yes, there are some sounds that native English speakers have trouble pronouncing in other languages."

Touche.

This was going to be an interesting evening. I didn't dare doze off to sleep. The drunk boys probably aren't all that bad, but they wouldn't let the ladies be. Worse things probably happen in many other parts of the world, especially in so-called "civilized nations".

One guy playfully tosses Brianna on the bed. She objects with dignity. Heather tries to talk some sense into the drunk, but more as a distraction gimmick than any genuine hope of producing change.

As the night went on, the girls did a rather fantastic job of entertaining the drunk boys. It wasn't for any agreement or to join in their rough housing. There just wasn't anything else for them to do. So, they sat and listened to them through the night.

It began to rain. It stopped raining. The floor got wet. Then one of the boys threw Shelly's bag on the floor—right into a puddle of water.

"You can't throw people's things," I kindly explained.

"But, I want to throw things," he said.

Now, there's an indication of insecurity. The boys aren't really bad, just immature and insecure. That's quite a contrast to the girls with whom these boys quite clearly didn't stand a chance of rounding first base.

"You can't throw other people's things, though. They can break. Now, Shelly is sad."

Watching those girls deal with misfits was a lesson in life for me. I don't know where Brianna and Heather will go with their lives, but I'm sure it won't be a waste.

Shelly sat next to her wet bag, poking her fingers at her temples. Then, she smiled. She was tired. It was 4:00 A.M. Her only travel bag was wet—along with who knows what else inside. With her luck everything was probably okay. But, that's not the point.

In that moment, Shelly convinced me that she did indeed work for an airline. You have to have the patience of Job to not explode in a situation like that.

Shelly, I don't know where you will go with your life, but I'm sure it will be amazing as long as you keep going and, no matter what, keep smiling.

So, what happened to the boys? I couldn't stay around to find out. I had a plane to catch. That's another story of patience all to itself. I'll just say that the memory of Shelly kept me smiling.

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The United States is in a crisis. It has been in a crisis since the 1990’s. It began with “all teams win” in school sports and “have sex with whomever you want, it won’t affect your family or your life” in sex education and Sunday morning morals. Students were told that college was the way to survive because it led to a “safe, secure job”. It started when institutional education took a turn on a few key principles. Now, people don’t know how to win in sports, they are unhappy in their families and their lives, and they don’t know how to keep or even find a “safe, secure job”.

People like Anne Coulter and myself, who foresaw Trump’s election and went on record, understood the nature of the crisis, which was why we forecasted the election with the confidence we did. We “Trump predictors”, (including Allan Lichtman), maintained our confidence in the face of so many voices telling us otherwise because our principles for understanding the political atmosphere shouted that much louder.  · · · →

My father built my entire house. I still remember being 5 years old, seeing the huge box freshly dozed right out of the side of the hill. I just looked up at this huge wall of dirt, not even knowing that my father had carefully engineered it to protect us from both tornadoes and floods.

He’d talk about the foundation, how the outer cement walls became extra thick and extra deep. He explained reinforced concrete to me many, many times. He never ran one single scenario about why a house needed a foundation. “That’s how you have to build it or you’ll have some kind of problem,” he’d say. “You can’t prevent every problem on earth.” The whole house could get lost in a random sink hole. But, people have been building for thousands of years and we’ve learned a few things. Thanks to my father, I learned something very important as a child: Don’t try to outsmart the Romans when it comes to building things that don’t fall down easily.  · · · →

There are two types of Christians: those who base their Christian beliefs entirely on “only Bible” (AKA Sola Scriptura) and those who base their Christian beliefs, at least partially, on “dogma” (most famously from the Roman Catholic Church, though dogma can come from anyone seeking to inject his own ideas and fashion his own circular worldview).

The ultimate question between Sola Scriptura and dogma is about whether to function effectively with a good quality of life or whether to think comfortably, regardless of quality of life.

The strong argument for Sola Scriptura is one of the best kept secrets on establishment Sunday Morning. God gave the idea behind Sola Scriptura to Joshua. Peter and Paul explained it. The Declaration of Independence refers to the idea as truths that are “self-evident”. Scripture is Scripture because it claims to come from God and the fact that it works proves that it is what it claims to be.  · · · →

I have a friend who’s had a rough life. And, he hasn’t been alive that long. Trouble with marriage, he blames it on drinking… I really can’t be his judge because, frankly, I haven’t had that rough of a life.

I grew up in the Church. My grandmother led Sunday School and taught Bible lessons. I knew who Jesus was and which way to walk with my heart since before I could walk with my legs. What do I know about people who have difficulties?

My friend grew up quite differently. His parents were divorced. Though he had money, his sister gave the kids baths and did the laundry. He didn’t get involved in the Church until well after 12 years old. At that point, he had a lot of pressure.

See, Sunday Morning Segregation Hour is about applying an appealing veneer. People like me, who grew up understanding certain things, get showcased as the “roll model”, with little to no instruction on what actually makes for a good, glad life.  · · · →

Look at nature. If you believe that molecules just happened into being without an outside force, you need to look more.

Nature has rules that are as complex as they are consistent. If you pay attention, keep an open mind ’till the day you die, and work regularly to hone some sort of skill, you can “prosper”.

Prospering is different from stealing. Theft is part of the worldview of a “zero sum game”. Prosperity is what happens on an apple tree: The tree has apples without stealing apples from another tree. Not every rich person got rich through prosperity nor does every rich person get rich through theft, but every rich person could have made either choice.

One of the biggest keys to prosperity and success is not whining about problems that aren’t your fault. We have such problems all the time. Carry on without complaint and without distraction. Then, you’ll get stronger, smarter, and you’ll prosper.  · · · →

Let’s get more “animal whisperers” at zoos. Sea World does it.

Viral animal videos are all about positive relations between animals and humans. The bossy, heavy-fisted, one-way relationships of the Builders’ generation is gone and done. They imprisoned animals and considered it cute. They imprisoned their children, the Baby Boomers, and called it “parenting”. Let’s move past their way of seeing the world. Let’s kindly and openly suggest—not through some stupid, heavy-handed, hare-brained law—let’s suggest that it’s a matter of business smarts and marketable survival—that zoos seriously consider putting “animal whisperers” in with all the animals.

No animal whisperer, no animal. I think it would thrive as a business model for zoos. And, I think the animal cruelty question, as well as the animal danger question, would both be over and done with.

As for Harambe… Darnit! No one wanted that gorilla to die. Everyone should examine his own ways.  · · · →

Happy Thanksgiving: Truth, History & Ideologies

Happy Thanksgiving: Truth, History & Ideologies

No doubt ideologies can easily clash over the holidays. We live with different ideas all year long, then come together. What happens for friendship or conflict is our own choice. Politically-inclined periodicals like to instruct readers on how to persuade family members either left or right. But, rather than the usual “gotcha” or “win arguments” campaign, here are some ways to win friendship and let Thanksgiving have its day. If you want instructions, follow these three steps…

1. Don’t argue:

When old relatives use politically incorrect terms from the past, prove how smart you are: You know what they mean, so you don’t need to correct them or even comment.

When people demonstrate different morals, don’t take the bait. If you think someone a fool, joining in an argument is joining a fool. Be mature. If you must debate, talk about the historical absence of cranberry sauce and the fact that the Pilgrims had neither pumpkin pie nor mashed potatoes since they didn’t have ovens. The Pilgrims at Plymouth actually developed as a fishing society since Massachusetts isn’t as friendly for farming as Jamestown, Virginia.

The early versions of today’s Thanksgiving recipes (pumpkin pie, stuffing, turkey, bread, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce) were introduced by writer Sara Josepha Hale (Marry had a Little Lamb) who started a three-decade campaign for the national holiday in 1827. George Washington had declared the first Thanksgiving on Thursday, November 26, 1789. Lincoln made Thanksgiving officially annual during the Civil War, 1863, setting it as the last Thursday in November. In 1939, FDR’s attempt to expand the shopping season by moving Thanksgiving up one week was not welcomed. In 1941 FDR made Thanksgiving the fourth Thursday in November. George H. W. Bush pardoned the first turkey to retire on a farm in 1989.

2. Talk about today’s political context:

Everything is changing. Refuse to get into any political or ideological debates since a. these change ever more dramatically from year to year and b. many recent ideologies have yet to be tested, therefore there is nothing to discuss, either pro or con.

3. Consider the political-ideological context of the first two British settlements:

The story of the Pilgrims simultaneously sides with and violates both right and left of today’s political scripts. The Pilgrims didn’t want the fickle establishment policing their religion. They had tried to live in the Netherlands starting in 1607, but that didn’t work out. Lacking money and concerned about losing their language to the Dutch, they sold stock, joined the London Company, and got permission from the Crown to leave for Hudson, near the already established Jamestown, Virginia. They were not funded by tax dollars, but they were governed by them.

The Speedwell had accompanied them to Amsterdam, but only the larger Mayflower would prove seaworthy to carry them on to the “New World”. After a 66-day voyage of hardship, the Pilgrims arrived, more or less, as beat-down western imperialists equipped with political and religious ideologies rather than a survival plan for the worst. They never made it to Hudson.

Having arrived too far north, they spent the first winter aboard the Mayflower in 1620. All but fifty-three of the 102 Pilgrims died that first winter. The natives, Wampanoag, were also farmers who helped them survive and taught them to plant their own crops the next year. Their secret was to use fish meal as fertilizer so they could grow better corn. This was important. The Pilgrims were not farmers in Britain nor did the Crown send many supply vessels. The Pilgrims’ welfare could not rely on government welfare.

According to the rules of the London Company (approved by the Crown), the Plymouth colony followed a principle called “common course”—the colony had a central grainery, each Pilgrim contributed what he could, then took what he needed. According to Richard Maybury’s “The Great Thanksgiving Hoax,” (1999) “common course” echoed Marxism’s from each according to his ability, to each according to his need. Due to local theft, little made it into the grainery.

John Carver was elected the Plymouth governor in 1621 and died that April. While William Bradford was out scouting for a colony location, the Mayflower was anchored at the tip of Cape Cod off Provincetown Harbor. His wife, still on the Mayflower, fell overboard and drowned. He was later elected governor which he held for subsequent years. In 1623, having starved from lack of corn, Plymouth had its fill of “common course”. Bradford writes:

All this while no supply was heard of, neither knew they when they might expect any. So they began to think how they might raise as much corn as they could, and obtain a better crop than they had done, that they might not still thus languish in misery. At length, after much debate of things, the Governor (with the advise of the chiefest among them) gave way that they should set corn every man for his own particular, and in that regard trust to themselves; in all other things to go in the general way as before. And so assigned to every family a parcel of land, according to the proportion of the number, for that end, only for present use (but made no division for inheritance) and ranged all boys and youth under some family. This had very good success, for it made all hands industrious, so as much more corn was planted than otherwise would have been by any means the Governor or any other could use, and saved him a great deal of trouble, and gave far better content. The women now went willingly into the field, and took their little ones with them to set corn; which before would allege weakness and inability; whom to have compelled would have been thought great tyranny and oppression.

Their first Thanksgiving, in 1621, lasted three days, not celebrated the next year. The Pilgrims were first known as “Old Timers”. Bradford had journaled about them as “saints” and “pilgrimes” from Holland. Daniel Webster called them “Pilgrim Fathers” at the 200 year anniversary of Plymouth (1820) and the term stuck. The Pilgrims were the second English settlement.

The first colony had already started in Jamestown, Virginia, named after King James I and was led by Edward Winfeld and a council of six chosen by the company. The names were sealed until their arrival. They chose Jamestown  as their location on May 13, 1607, while the Pilgrims were first beginning their exploits in Europe. Jamestown was Anglican and privately funded by the Virginia Company. The first wave of 104 men and boys had sailed aboard the Susan Constant, the Godspeed, and the Discovery, departing Dec 6, 1606, according to other sources, Dec 20 that year. Their main conflict was with the Powhatan tribe, but the Spanish were also a concern.

Winter of 1609-1610 was historically known as “Starving Time”; William Strachey tells 80-90% died from disease and starvation. Likely a hurricane had set a supply ship off course, which ran a reef in Bermuda to avoid sinking. It finally arrived May, 1610. Thanks to one of the Bermuda survivors, John Rolfe, who married Pocahontas, Jamestown’s Virginia Company became profitable with a non-native tobacco introduced in 1612.

The first legislative assembly met in 1619 at Jamestown Church. Beyond the governance of Virginia, the Pilgrims established New England and were self-governed by the Mayflower Compact. In 1624, after financial problems, Jamestown’s Virginia Company had their private charter revoked by the British Crown and remained a Royal colony until America’s Revolution.

The Puritain Pilgrims at Plymouth, Massachusetts in New England overcame death and finally thrived through friendship with the Wampanoag Indian farmers, by learning to farm their own food, by using fish as both their main trade and as corn fertilizer, lumbering, building ships, and encouraging women and children to work the fields through ownership of their own crops. The Anglicans at Jamestown, Virginia, near Chesapeake Bay, survived to become worthy of acquisition by the Crown, thanks to a triangle-shaped fort equipped with guns at each corner, Captain Christopher Newport’s ability to establish early peace with the Powhatan Indians through trade, the Powhatan chief’s daughter Pocahontas, then 11, saving John Smith’s life while Newport was away on the high seas to trade and bring more settlers, and by Pocahontas’ husband growing foreign tobacco for sales in England.

So, we have everything to be thankful for. After all, Thanksgiving would never give reason for controversy.

Sources and works consulted:

A Short History of Jamestown & Jamestown and Plymouth: Compare and Contrast (National park Service)

The Pilgrims & First Thanksgiving Meal (The History Channel)

Pilgrims, Squanto, William Bradford and Communism (Independent Sentinal)

Why the Pilgrims Abandoned Communism (Free Republic)

The Jamestown Chronicles Timeline (The Jamestown Chronicles)

Timeline History of Jamestown, Virginia