There has been a great deal of talk over the past six days about Nazis and racism, punctuated by the violence in Charlottesville. Given the presidency of Donald Trump, this was a flair-up that was bound to happen sooner or later.

Someone I followed on Facebook made a comment that I’m paraphrasing here. “My grandfather fought in World War II, so I take this Nazi stuff very personally.”

I sympathize with this view. Both of my grandfathers, plus three uncles, fought in World War II, so I take it personally as well. I also take personally the fact that some members of the left are comparing the Antifa thugs to men like my grandfathers and uncles.

While the focus has largely been on President Trump, my thoughts are on Iceland. This past Monday, CBS News ran a story, discussing the fact that 100 percent of women in that country abort their babies if they are found to have Down syndrome. This is a phenomenon that is growing in Europe and beginning here in the United States as well. In my view, the tone of the report was positive.

I contrast this report with an Email I received from the Colorado Cross Disability Coalition a couple of months ago when healthcare reform was all the rage and it looked as if much-needed Medicaid reform would be a real possibility. The Email urged everyone to call and write their congressional representatives so that we might, “Avoid a second eugenics movement.”

Really? This from many of the same people who felt it necessary to occupy Cory Gardner’s office for days, until they were arrested for trespassing? All due respect, I can do without the hyperbole or the political theatrics. Moreover, if you want to see what real eugenics looks like, take a look at Iceland. Today, Down Syndrome. Tomorrow, when ultrasound technology becomes more advanced, why couldn’t it be babies who might be blind, deaf, crippled, or who’s brains might not develop properly?

You know who else loved the idea of designer babies? I’ll give you a hint. He was really big in Germany in the 1930’s and he damn near conquered Europe in the early 1940’s. So, all of you disabled people tossing around words like “Nazi,” and “Eugenics,” might want to do some research. Then, go take a hard look in the mirror and re-examine your own values system. Do you favor abortion under the pro-choice, pro-woman banner? If so, what’s your limiting principle? Many of you who call yourselves Christians or humanitarians, and who are tempted to just read this and move on, might ask yourselves some hard questions.

One more thing. Both of my grandfathers and all three uncles made it home from the battlefields of WW2, but not all of them were whole. Uncle Don had a severe case of battle fatigue; it would be called PTSD today. He could not speak coherently or fully take care of himself. He lived with my grandparents until he passed away. I was a kid when I knew him and, in my young mind, he rattled around in their basement like a strange, mumbling specter. Many countries might look at him today and decide that it would be more merciful to alleviate his suffering through euthanasia, rather than to expend the resources to provide him long-term care, despite his service to his country.

God bless you, Uncle Don. I hope it all makes sense to you now, because it sure doesn’t to me.



Definition: The science of improving a human population by controlled breeding to increase the occurrence of desirable heritable characteristics. Developed largely by Francis Galton as a method of improving the human race, it fell into disfavor only after the perversion of its doctrines by the Nazis.

A Dozen Meatballs

My buddy Art told me that a healthy life is about establishing boundaries. He’s right.

Well, here’s a boundary for ya. NO VIOLENCE!!!

I don’t give a good God damn if you’re the KKK or Antifa, or a member of the Nazi Party or Black Lives Matter. You wanna stand in a park or on a sidewalk in front of the state capital and wave signs and yell about injustice? Go for it! You wanna wear silly vagina hats and recite bad poetry about oppression? Be my guest. I enjoy a good laugh. That is your constitutional right and your privilege in this society that champions free speech.

But the second that you throw a rock, or burn a car, or take what’s not yours under the pretense of social justice; the second that you shoot a cop, or run some innocent woman down with a car, you stop being an active citizen and you become something less. You are subhuman. You are scum.


And those of you on the right or the left who can’t or won’t stand up and denounce political violence, no matter who it comes from, you deserve to get slapped around like a meatball in an Italian kitchen and called 12 kinds of stupid.


Do I make myself clear?

Of Plastic Shower Curtains

Indoor plumbing is a First World luxury we all take for granted. We get the urge, we find a bathroom, we do our business, wipe, flush, hopefully wash our hands and move on with our day. If we partake of that large cup of coffee or cranberry juice on our commute to work, we do so with the knowledge that a bathroom will soon be available for us to relieve ourselves when and if the need should arise.

What an unwelcome surprise it was this morning when I discovered that the men’s room in the underground bus terminal at Denver Union Station was closed for remodeling. Sadly, this was a morning when holding it just wasn’t an option in my 42-year-old universe.

How nice it was when a kindly security guard directed me to a temporary porta potty in the loading area outside. What was not so nice was when I discovered that there was no toilet paper available within the structure. And darn it… I was out of Kleenex in my giant man purse.

I will not go into detail as to the creative problem solving I employed to deal with this unfortunate obstacle in my day. I will only say that, thank God, a hand sanitizer pump was available at the conclusion of my 19th-century experience.

The rest of my commute passed in comfort and, to the best of my knowledge, no stains were present in my boxers. I did take great care not to shake hands with anyone along the way. Of course, the bathroom at work was my first stop, where I privately rejoiced in the sound of the swirling water in the porcelain bowl and washed my hands (twice) with anti-bacterial soap.

One last nugget of wisdom… Orange Gatorade is a great way to wash the crappy taste out of your mouth if you have to.