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Gregory Lewis ^(1,502) Conch Republic, Florida Keys, USA

Gregory Lewis

Licensed To Live

To the Devil with Your Hate

Posted Saturday, November 07, 2009 (13 days 16 hours ago.) Viewed 1,157 times.

"Greg, they're going to hate you for writing this," said my neighbor and confidante.

Yes, that's the issue I'm addressing, hate. All are capable of it. Some dress theirs in pure white linen, clasped by crucifix or crescent moon, while others in red, white and blue.

In 1942 Roosevelt issued the Japanese Internment Order. In 1988, Reagan apologized to the American Japanese.

Although 2001 census data puts the number of Muslims at 2.8 million, the estimated actual number is probably between 6 and 10 million. The number of American Muslims who killed 13 people at Ft. Hood on November 5 was one. It appears the rampage by Major Nidal Malik Hasan was a solo, un-orchestrated with his Muslim brethren.

Hasan was an Army psychiatrist, American born and a convert to Islam. His aunt Noel Hasan is quoted as saying, "He must have snapped."

A cousin in Palestine said Hasan, "Spoke very fondly about his life in the United States," and was excited to have joined the Army. The cousin said Hasan began to complain that he was being mistreated, feeling discriminated because of his ethnicity and religion.

A Pennsylvania radio station reporter interviewed a member of the Muslim Association of the Lehigh Valley. "Unfortunate thing with people is they seem to incriminate the whole community rather than the individual who did the crime," said a man named Mohamed.

The Council on American Islamic Relations condemned the attack. A byline on the CAIR web site says, "In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful."

Remember following 9-11, the furor (an interesting homonym) against Muslims as radical extremists? The contagion eventually spread globally, until Danish cartoons, riots in France and conflict in Amsterdam appear as media blips with irregular frequency. A recent conspiracy case coming out of Colorado, that of suspect Najibullah Zazi demonstrates that so-called "radical Islam" is a phenomenon that we can put our finger on. But, I need to point out that radical Islam is different from Islam as a whole, just as radical Christianity is different from Christianity at large.

How many Christians, after all, identify themselves with fellow Christians Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols, two radical and zealous self-proclaimed patriots who blew up the Alfred P. Murrah Building in 1995, killing 168 people, many of them children at a day care? The Oklahoma City Bombing remains the deadliest domestically conceived terrorist attack. The Southern Poverty Law Center has documented a rise in what it calls "domestic terror plots" linked to white supremacist groups.

Last May, Sgt. John M. Russell, white and Christian, shot and killed five of his comrades at Camp Liberty in Iraq.

The Sherriff's report on the 1999 Columbine Massacre indicates the attack was " not about killing jocks or black people or Christians...it was about killing everybody. " The two killers were high school students Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris. In what might be interpreted as prophetic irony, Harris wrote in a suicide note, " Surely you will try to blame it on the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, or the way I choose to present myself "

There is a fairly long list of tragedies perpetrated by troubled minds. In 1929 45 people were killed in a bombing at Bath School, Michigan. Most of the children were between 7 and 12 years old. School board member Andrew Kehoe, not a Muslim, reacted badly to a property tax.

Many of us, like Kehoe, hate taxes. Maybe your fears about radical Muslims are misplaced. We hated the Soviets and China, but death came like the proverbial thief in the night from Arabia. Now, we hate Islam. It is such an easy, ignorant and mindless hate; so easy to spread. Just turn off the brain and wrap a flag around your plump, pink body. "Those people" hate the American way. Apparently, though, so did Russell, McVeigh and Nichols, Klebold and Harris, and Kehoe.

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Key West Fantasy Fest Parade, Where Art is People

Posted Sunday, November 01, 2009 (19 days 8 hours ago.) Viewed 245 times.

Even as my blistered, sandaled feet were recovering from the long Key West walk on Friday evening, I decided to hit the Fantasy Fest parade, the grand finale. I parked my van at the parking area off Higgs Beach and bicycled the rest of the way to Duval St. I had a brutally technical paper to write for physiological psych, and I almost talked myself out of going. But then, it occurred to me that, here I am, in the Florida Keys with a continuous stream of traffic flowing from the mainland just for this very occasion. Who am I to deny history, and my position in it?

According to the official schedule the parade was to begin at 7:00 pm. People on south Duval were setting their chairs in place, while the density from Truman northward approached red dwarf proportions. I stayed put for a little while, but it was obvious the real action was in walking, so I began the crawl to Zero Duval.

The costumed throngs were meandering up and down the barricaded street. There was a pod of green-haired, Oompa Loompas each wearing Willy Wonka (Gene Wilder) medallions. There was the strange silver H1N1 spaceship. I quickly acquired my first Mardi gras beads when a "pink" man bequeathed some very nice hot pink and jet black necklaces over the heads of people close to the barrier. By evening's end I would bring home a small fortune in dazzling cheap costume jewelry.

Many participants, if you don't understand Fantasy Fest, are topless, or completely naked. Some don't even wear a g-string, and there were a few that were just plain gross, like the fat man in his underwear. What kind of costume is that?

But, there was some real dazzling body paint, and the one that caught the attention of every would-be Annie Leibovitz with a camera was the "Star" woman. She was painted in a base of midnight blue, every square inch, with orange, fiery comets traveling down her back, and stars on her legs, planets on her torso, and nebulae on her breasts. She wore a large silver crescent moon set in a silver turban on her head. She was positively galactic. This cool number could not take a few steps without being asked to pose for a photo, and she graciously obliged, even where pedestrians wanted to pose with her.

The parade took a long time in coming. In fact, I don't think I saw the first float until around 8:30. By then, I had collected a few more beads around my neck, and there were no more front row spaces to be had. There was lots of free flowing beer and booze--completely legal to drink in the open, as long as you stay on Duval. With all that alcohol you get a few hopeless drunks. One obnoxious fellow was provoking a man dressed as an Arab with the usual backwater rhetoric. Mostly, people were well behaved. If you ever do get into trouble on Key West, though, it is a sure thing that out of towners are the instigators. This kind of event is simply a magnet for the worst dregs of society, as well as the benign.

Key West is recognized for its gay pride. Right around the New Orleans House, where Sookie the drag queen is lowered in her big red slipper on New Years, attended by the CNN mobile news van and even Anderson Cooper, the queens were frolicking in reckless abandon. I collected a few more sizzling beads from some playful but good natured queens on the balcony, and continued my crawl.

All the time I had been smoking my Arturo Fuente, in honor of my friend Tom Favelli, who owns the Key West Cigar Store. Tom invited me to a fete this coming November 5, honoring members of the original Gato family that were a big name in the history of Key West cigar manufacturing.

The moon was nearly full, hovering over this subtropical paradise like a voyeuristic eye. I was reminded of one of my favorite Bible stories, of Joseph in Egypt who accused his brothers visiting from Cannan of coming to see the nakedness of his land.

After doffing my cigar in a beer bottle, I marveled at the delicacies the food vendors were selling on the side streets. I settled for a seafood salad platter, which was a base of yellow rice with an assortment of seafood heaped high, and a Greek salad squeezed into what little space was left on the side. Reinvigorated, I followed it with a glass of beer and felt much better about being one sardine of thousands in the middle of Duval Street. There was no going back now!

The first float was a huge monster head on the end of a cherry picker bucket. Its gaping maw was full of long teeth, and a wagging tongue. In its head were two costumed men. The head would lift high into the air, maybe 30 feet, and then drop down again. The men looked like they were precariously perched in the creature's hat, but I saw that in reality, they were standing safe inside the bucket, but with fake legs dangling outside to make it look like they were only barely clinging to the enormous monster's hat. The effect was gripping.

Parade Marshall Bridgett Marquardt, Playgirl and former Hugh Heffner girlfriend was dressed like a ghoulish bat and rode high atop another float. I was one of the lucky ones that caught her simple gold-colored Mardi gras beads. As more beads were flung, I started giving some away, one of these to a young girl of about two. After putting the green necklace around her head while she was draped over her mother's shoulder, she couldn't keep her eyes off me. I must have been her idol after that.

Unlike last year's New Years in front of Sloppy Joe's, I determined this year that I would keep moving, rather than remain fixated in one spot. It proved fortuitous, as the "gold" kept flowing my way. A great pirate ship-the "Blood Vessel" passed by, and I caught a very nice necklace, spangled with large gold doubloons. The Florida Keys were once notorious as a base for pirates of the Caribbean. We have a heritage of sunken ships and booty. Though, most of the booty I was witnessing tonight wasn't that sort. Before the night was over, I would capture a few more doubloon necklaces. They were coveted by the throngs, and I was lucky to have brought home one, let alone three.

As the evening climaxed I walked back to where my bike was chained. The beads kept falling from the sky and into my hands or around my neck, their weight became ponderous. I was so glad I had my bike this time, instead of having to walk back to the van. Somewhere around the 1200 Duval block the streetlights flickered off for one second. The crowd cheered, and then they came on again. But, not for long. Moments later there was a thunderous "Boom!", and orange sparks flew out of a transformer on a utility pole ahead of me. Now the lights were permanently out, and the only illumination came from the floats.

I found a glow stick, and fastened it to my bicycle for safety, although lighting returned once I rode away from Duval. There was the quiet of the ocean, undisturbed but for the lights of a distant cruise ship, the Halloween moon painting a quiet tropical still life over silver palm trees and ebony sea.

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Try A Little Harder

Posted Monday, October 12, 2009 (39 days 17 hours ago.) Viewed 944 times.

Although I haven't contributed to SearchWarp as frequently as I once did, in fact I write every day for other venues, namely, school.

Check the "Questions for You" page, where members are asking some pretty good questions. More than a few are clever. One question caught my attention this morning. It was "How many times do you edit your article?"

I've been anxiously tapping the table over the past weeks, thinking how best to approach a topic of great annoyance to myself (though, apparently, of little concern to many modern writers). It has to do with the editing of our work.

Firstly, the problem of proofing my work doesn't occur on any one publication venue, but everywhere that instant gratification can be achieved with the push of the Submit button. As a graduate student at an online university (I heartily recommend continuing your education, should the opportunity present itself, as it has for many joining the swollen ranks of the unemployed) I am appalled at the semi-literacy exhibited on the university's own discussion forums.

One student wrote to me, "I appreciate your candidacy," when she meant to write "candidness." Granted, many adult students are returning to school after a long absence, and working against time, money and raising a family. Yet, graduate level work assumes you possess at least secondary education knowledge of the English language. I think that is not always the case these days.

SearchWarp members are not critical enough of each other's work. We are too busy congratulating each other or ourselves on, "Another fine piece! Spectacular! Wow, you continue to amaze!" and similar superfluous superlatives. But, how fine is that piece, really? if truth be told, there is a lot of sloppy copy on SearchWarp, and, sad to say, grammatical rules are broken so frequently as to make me think many grownups have only a passing familiarity with them.

I edit my piece several times, whether it is here or for some other publication. My work continues to be subject to at least two problems: The first are the occasional spelling errors due to typographical mistakes, and the other has to do with a laptop keyboard and touch pad that do not always cooperate with my intentions. Sometimes I have to worry about the editor's own literary skill (I used to write for a newspaper).

Yet, many of the errors I read daily could not possibly be caused by technical errors.

In two separate articles, two separate (but celebrated) authors used the word "isle" when they meant to write "aisle." It is apparent the writers simply didn't know the difference.

Other peeves?

" do to extenuating circumstances" It's not "do," as in "do unto others." It's "due."

" There tacos are too spicy." It's not "there"; it's the possessive noun "their."

"There going to the movies." It's not "there," it's "they're," a contraction of "they are."

"They're" and "their" aren't even homophonic with "there". That means they don't sound the same when pronounced, so why would you spell them the same?

Syntax is admittedly a more difficult challenge. In one recent article, the author mistakenly wrote "comprised of." This is in error. Don't write "comprised of." You can say, "composed of," or write "comprises" instead. This is an example of the tendency to impress others with your sophistication, kind of like pronouncing the t in "often," or erroneously verbalizing the second silent syllable in "forte."

Don't breathe a sigh of relief just because you didn't see your particular grammatical error among this list. Don't ever breathe a sigh of relief! You should writhe in contempt of yourself when a boo boo infiltrates your work. What kind of writer are you that you don't care how your work comes across to your readers? Other people, such as me, are judging your intelligence and education based on what we read, not on what you think you wrote.

I know this isn't always possible, but if you can, have a second set of eyes on your copy. It tends to eliminate typos and structural errors. Use your word processor's spell check. It's not perfect, but will often catch grammatical, spelling and syntactic errors otherwise missed.

Finally, don't sell yourself out to mediocrity. People are too hung up on having to mechanically churn out an article or two every day. Churn butter instead, or better yet, ice cream. When you churn thoughts, you give us drivel. Popularity scores simply reflect how many unfortunates clicked the link to your story, and not whether your story will become a valued example of literary genius.

-G

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Licensed To Live

To the Devil with Your Hate

Key West Fantasy Fest Parade, Where Art is People

Try A Little Harder

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