Author: Rex Nipper

It turns out that the state of Texas decided to remove Thomas Jefferson from their history text books, and curriculum. These lessons were dedicated to great political thinkers. The author of the Declaration of Independence, it turns out, does not fit into their idea of a great political thinker. However Calvin does. Maybe someone should tell them that Calvin, one of the founders of modern Protestantism, was a religious man, and not a politician?

So why did they make this decision? Jefferson, among others such as James Madison, Benjamin Franklin, and John Adams, espoused the separation of Church and State. Gee…we can’t have that now can we? So since Jefferson didn’t fit their narrow ideals of how they feel the country was founded, they decided to re-write history, and tell their children how they “think” it should have been founded.

I have a big problem with revisionist historians. They’re always politicians, or pundits trying to sell you something. Look at Glen Beck. His diatribes on Progressives are rather frightening. He talks about how Progressives are killing the country. How they are evil, and taking over the thoughts of our children. He does this while holding a swastika to illustrate how Progressives are Fascists. The problem is however, that he’s acting just like the man who came up with the swastika as a symbol for political change in the first place. Provide the people with an enemy, and demonize that enemy. Talk about how evil they are. Go ahead…listen to Beck. Just when you hear the term Progressive, replace it with Jew. If a few more people start to believe him it will only be a matter of time before we fire up the furnaces.

What is most troubling about these situations is that it’s the uneducated who believe the nuts. When people are in pain, they want someone to blame. They want the simple solution. And when they can blame someone else for their troubles, well, that removes them from all manner of sins. When you can demonize someone, when you can reduce them to less than human, it becomes no trouble at all to march them into pits and put bullets in their heads.

So if you want to see this country go the way of the fascist, continue re-writing the history books. After all, it’s what Hitler did…just before he started burning them.

In the end, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised at what Texas has done. Facts are troublesome when they conflict with idealism. After all, this is a state that produced such great political minds as Lyndon B. Johnson, George W. Bush, and Ross, Perot. These three men cover the entire spectrum of Democrat, Republican, and Independent. One created a nightmare in Asia, one created a nightmare in Iraq, and the other was just a nightmare. So I don’t care what political party you’re attached to, or if you’re not attached to any. I don’t even care what party the next president is from. I just hope, and pray, that for the benefit of our country, and for the benefit of education, and for the benefit of our children, and for the benefit of the world, that he doesn’t come from Texas.

Rex

Some of you may have read part of this story, but I promise that most of it is new. It’s how I got to Woodland Park, Colorado.

I had been trying to get out of Iowa since I was two years old. My parents, when not in their loving embrace, kept me fenced in the back yard where they fed me and occasionally sprayed me with a garden hose to make sure I was well watered. I guess since my name is Rex Nipper, keeping me in the back yard, and feeding me from a stainless steel bowl was fitting.

I’m not sure how I heard about Colorado, but I guess it could be from an episode of Wild Kingdom. It was either that, or Wide World of Sports. Either way, I knew I needed to change my surroundings.

So with no more than a plastic shovel, and an iron will to escape, I dug my way under the fence. It was 1967 and I (in my tie dyed cloth diaper), was on a mission. I had also heard they were taking anyone for Nam, and I didn’t want to be the next draftee. Besides…with a name like Rex, I could be mistaken by the enemy for lunch.

It took weeks of planning. I had to find the best place to dig. I had to make sure that the warden (Mom), wasn’t paying attention. There were a few false starts of course. I would dig, and she would come outside, and fill the holes back up, thinking it was the neighbor dog, and not me. But one summer day, I finally made it through.

I took off north. I knew I had to get them off the scent. Either that, or I was just so young I didn’t really know where west was. I was only two…they didn’t exactly provide me with a compass. However, I was free, and I knew I was on my way out. I wandered for what seemed like days (It was just the afternoon, but I missed my nap). I happened upon a group of older kids, who looked like they could point me in the right direction. However, it turned out that they were working for the warden, and they took me back home.

They next few years were harsh. Mom, or Warden Judy as she was called her, wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She kept a close eye on me for the next 16 years, making sure I didn’t get too far from home. I was required to clean their house, make their meals, do their laundry, all under the auspices that it would teach me responsibility. What a crock! They had finally let me inside though, after a couple of years. It was only in the basement, but at least I wasn’t under the stairs. Wait…I WAS under the stairs. I think JK Rowling owes me some coin!

After I turned 18, the warden let me go. She sent me out the door with a compass, and a map, with orders to get a life. I was on my own. But I didn’t have any money to get here yet, so I had to get a job. I went to work at various places. Finally I landed a gig at Blue Cross Blue Shaft where I boxed shred paper for food money. I worked my way up though, finally getting to a point where customers called in to call me everything but a child of God.

I heard of another company in town though that was looking for people to move out of Iowa, and low and behold, they were going to Colorado. All you had to do was sell your soul. But it was Colorado, and I was on the market. The company was The Principal Financial Group, a.k.a., Satan. If you wanted to go to the mountains, all you had to do was promise a year of service telling people while they paid for insurance, it didn’t really mean they actually GOT insurance.

However, at the time I didn’t care. When I got here I was so excited. I really couldn’t believe I had finally moved to Colorado. One of the things I had picked up after my years after jail, was mountain biking. I knew that one day I would get out of Iowa, so I taught myself how to ride a bike. And this was the place to ride it boy! I was finally going to get to ride my mountain bike in the actual mountains.

So one day that I had off from Satan, I decided to go and ride at a place called Palmer Park. This is an awsome place to ride in the middle of town. There are rocks, drop-offs, trees, everything you can think of to whet your appetite for the trails. It wasn’t the mountains really, but it was a good place to start before I headed up west. You see…by this time…I bought the compass.

So my first week here I”m in the park getting ready for my ride. I had a Chevy Astro Van, which was great for carrying the bike, not to mention my clothes, since, while I had a job, Satan didn’t exactly pay me enough to actually get an apartment.
So I pull into the parking lot for the park, and I”m getting ready for my ride. I’m over by the horse stables, and I really had the feeling I was in Colorado. It was so cool to see these stables, and the mountains, and everything all at once. I was excited…really! I was free, and living in a place where I always wanted to be.

I get out of the van and start getting ready. I had my lycra bike shorts on and riding jerey, and was packing all my things for the ride. I got the bike out of the van, and there I stood getting ready, when a car drove by the entrance to the parking lot. The driver looked at me, backed up, and pulled into the lot. At first I just thought he was missed the drive, and was going to park. But he didn’t park his car. He just pulled up next to me and kept staring. Then he got on his cell phone and started talking very loudly. It was 1994, and cell phones were a new thing. All I could think of was that, what an asshole. Why would you pull in here, stare at me, and talk loud like you’re trying to impress me? Anyway, I kept getting ready, and got on the bike, all the while with this idiot staring at me. After all, I was just so excited to finally be in Colorado.

I finally took off into the hills, but I was a little concerned since phone guy never left. I got about a mile into it when I turned around, and phone guy had started walking up to my van. I started heading back to the parking lot. But when I got there, he was gone. But there was a note left under my windshield wiper.

I must have been more excited than I thought. The note had one line: “Your shorts, show nice, call me.” And he left his cell number.

Boy I didn’t know how to take that. After being so sheltered for so many years, I just didn’t know what to do. I had never been hit on before…especially by a guy. I took my bike, threw it into the back of the van, and took off down the road. I got about a mile west before I realized I still had my bike helmet on. I didn’t care though. I just kept heading west.

OK…I want to make it clear that I’m not a homophobe. I was just not prepared to be propositioned at 6 a.m. in a park. Who does that? But I still wasn’t going back to Iowa. I had to leave the Springs though. I couldn’t stay. It was obvious this wasn’t the place for me. For one, I liked girls. It was no wonder most of the men were gay. The women were nuts. Most of them wanted you to join a cult, and convert to a religion that required allegiance to a guy, who in the end, turned out to actually BE gay. But that’s another story.

So after two years I left Satan’s, employ, and moved to Woodland Park. That’s how I got here. It has been a nice 12 years here, but after all this bliss, it’s time to go. I’m off for trails north near Denver. I’m going to miss some things, and not miss some others. But I have to give Colorado Springs one thing…They taught me what the term “cow poke” meant. Because really…I always thought it meant something else.

A recent conversation brought up some of the reasons I don’t go to nightclubs. I guess the best reason is the fact that at 44 I look like a child molester on a playground, but there is also the fact that I’ve always hated explaining why I don’t drink. I detest the taste of alcohol. I’ve never acquired the taste. It’s the same with caviar and coffee. I can’t stand those either. Therefore, it’s not because I’m a “religious freak, or recovering alcoholic.”

The fact is that I’ve seen more alcoholics and self-described Bible thumpers hanging out at bars than not. My favorite was a Christian/Tax Rights lobbyist I know. I ran into him at the Iowa State House. He was embarrassed when I mentioned that it was nice seeing him at my uncle’s bar the weekend before. When he began lecturing me on how “I don’t drink. I just go to see people. So if you would please not mention it to anyone…” I replied, “Well…if you’re embarrassed about doing something, then perhaps you shouldn’t do it.” A Senator who overheard the conversation nearly spit her coffee on the floor at my response. Being blunt is not a virtue in politics.

Hypocrisy notwithstanding, some of the other reasons I don’t go are the fact that guys always seem to want to pick a fight with me. I’m 5’7” and 175 lbs. Exactly what badge of honor do you get when you’re 6’6” and 280 when you pummel me into the ground? If there’s money involved though, let me know. I’m more than happy to take a fall if the pay’s good.

A friend once told me that “it’s no fun going to a bar if you’re sober. You just can’t get into it.” I told him that if beer goggles, hindered judgement, and slurred speech are a requirement for a good time, then I’d just as soon, not go. So…for the last 20 years I haven’t gone.

There have been some instances though which have required me to be present at the local hunt-fest for local companionship. Come on…who goes to a bar to just meet with friends? If you really think that is what you’re doing, then you shouldn’t be at the meat market. There are other places to go. But let’s not quibble.

There was a rare occasion a few years ago where my ex got me to go to a bar. She wanted to go dancing with friends after work, and asked me if I would go along. I was standing at the bar watching her dance (quite the site actually) when a woman started talking to me as I leaned against the bar. It surprised me when this kid, all of 22, started talking to me. In the course of the conversation she started hitting on me pretty hard. You have to hit on me pretty hard for me to notice. I’m dense that way (Note to women…ALL men are dense that way…we don’t do subtle). After a few minutes she asked me what kind of car I drove. I told her a Saturn (ironic because now I drive one). It took about three seconds for her to say “well…gotta go, and walked away. At the end of the evening she happened to be in front of the bar when the valet pulled up with Deb’s (not my) Jaguar XJ12 ($99,000 car). She looked so dejected and actually said “I thought you drove a Saturn.” I replied…”sorry…I swim at the deep end of the pool. Deb and I laughed hysterically all the way to her house since we were sure she didn’t get the reference. Was I disappointed? No. You don’t have to explain anything to a 45 year old women. I’ve done the younger thing. They need a road map.

Another time I was talking to a very attractive woman who during the conversation asked me what I did for a living. I told her, and her next response was “So, how much money do you make?” I replied, “Oh…it doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t get to see any of it anyway.” She tried to pedal back from her statement, but it didn’t work. I’ve seen more subtlety from car salesman.

My favorite situation was even more classic. This woman comes up to me, all of 6’ tall and says, “I love bald men, but you’re too short.” I replied “What? Is your name Disney? You have a tattoo of a line on your chest with the note “Must be this tall to board this attraction?” She called me an asshole and walked away. Hey…this woman just tells me I’m short, and I’m the asshole? The bartender overheard the conversation and about died laughing. I got free coke and chicken wings the rest of the night.

I never really liked going to nightclubs when I was younger, and the times I’m dragged to them as an adult are painful to me. Crowds give me anxiety attacks, and I find large groups of people tend to do things that defy logic. If I have to go out, I much prefer a more intimate setting, like say a pool hall. You can have a conversation, and I usually pick up a couple of bucks. It’s a win-win situation.

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, and I’m reminded of the sacrifice made by the person who the tradition eventually recognizes. There’s no question I have a problem with many who espouse themselves Christian. While I see a lot of hero worship for the guy they follow, I don’t see any attempt at trying to adopt the values their leader was trying to teach. Rather than being focused on the betterment of others, they’re focused more on their own entitlement. The new Christianity has made a terrifying move from spiritual enrichment to personal advancement. The modern Christian no longer looks out for the interests of others, but their own self interests. And when someone doesn’t fit into their narrow view of civility, rather than learn from them, they chastise. They pervert Christ’s values to justify their own personal prejudice, and rather than work to help their fellow man, they work to deny anyone who doesn’t share their views the same simple freedoms they claim to hold so dear.

Today I saw a man on a corner with a sign, asking for money. A passer by threw him his trash, and shouted obscenities. He was too busy to stop his Lexus, and help him out, but he was more than happy to chastise him for not being clean. If this is how he views the poor, then he should remove that fish symbol from the back of his car. This, by the way, was exactly what I told him at the next intersection.

I normally wouldn’t say anything, I’d just keep my mouth shut, and boil in silence. Maybe it’s because after reading posts on another man holding a sign recently, that my attempt to show the post’s ignorance through levity fell short. I should have just pointed outright that I thought it would have been better to actually help the man, rather than just post jokes about him. Even if you think he’s trying to take advantage of you, you have to ask yourself if a person that would do that is in a better situation, or a worse situation than you are? Either way, you would be better off helping. If he had your opportunities, most likely he wouldn’t be on that corner in the first place. So why not lend him some change? Is it really going to bother you in any way?

Last year I was driving to Crested Butte for the last ride of the season before the heavy snows came. I saw a young man hitch hiking along the highway as a rain, and lightening storm was coming in. This is Colorado, so when I say he was in the middle of nowhere, please realize that this is no exaggeration. I decided that I would pick him up. When he got into the car, he was coughing, and sneezing, and smelled like he spent the night in a dumpster. I drove him three hours out of my way to the town that would get him his next ride. I also gave him some cash so he could give gas to the next person. Did I totally believe any of the stories he told me for the three hours he was in my car? No. Did I totally think that my cash was going to go for gas, and food only? No. Did I care? No. That’s not what it was about. All I know is that he was walking, and I was driving a $40,000 car. It was my responsibility to help him.

Lent is about giving something up for the next 40 days until Easter. It signifies Christ’s withdrawal into the wilderness. So while everyone is giving up ridiculous things like chocolate, or caffeine, or late night snacks, why not try giving up something noteworthy? Give up hate, give up ignorance, give up judgment, give up your preconceived notions about the world, and make a valid attempt to see the other perspective. Try to stop thinking about what you can do for you, and think about what you can do for them. I’m betting if you do that, you will become more like your hero, than you are right now.

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful and committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

–Margaret Mead

For some reason I always get political on Sundays. I have no idea why, other than the fact that it seems every show on the TV has a talking head discussing how the world should be run, from their perspective. I think that’s why I often get frustrated at many of the ideas presented on these programs.

All of these talking heads spout that they are only looking after the average American and the well being of the world in general. Well…that might be the case, but I’m a little confused by your motives. If you were really looking out for everyone’s welfare, wouldn’t you be trying to come up with ideas that actually help?

I think one of the major problems with our society, is that we are all looking out for our own best interests. Believe me, I’m not excluding myself from this egocentric notion. I’m the king of looking out for numero uno. Just ask anyone who has ever dated me. However, I do believe that if I have something, and someone else doesn’t, that it is my duty as a human being to help out the one that doesn’t. I don’t understand this selfish notion that just because I’m endowed with opportunities which enable me to provide for myself, and family, that I shouldn’t then help others to achieve the same goals.

Whether it is healthcare, child care, economics, food, water, etc., everyone becomes so angry that they might have to help out their neighbor. It’s this idea that if someone is poor, they must have done something to cause that, and therefore deserve nothing. I have lost count of how many times I hear “Hey…I worked for this, so shouldn’t they have to?” As if they wouldn’t work for it if they had the chance. It’s this idea of punishing someone for not having the same opportunities. It’s also like the anecdotal stories of people driving Mercedes Benz’s and living off welfare. As if the $200.00 in food stamps for an adult would make the payment. I would think it is more likely they once worked, bought the car, lost their job, and now are hungry. I guess that means we shouldn’t help that person. After all…who cares that they paid into the system, and for some reason believe they should actually have access to it.

My all time favorite is the idea of having babies makes you rich. That’s classic. If you think this is true then I suggest you go visit someone on welfare who is trying to feed their children. What’s that mansion like that they live in?

Here’s the thought I was guilty of: If you got laid off, it’s most likely because you weren’t working hard enough. Boy was I stupid. I designed a system that saved my company millions of dollars in overhead costs. I worked 12 to 18 hour days for two years making it happen. My reward was for the company to implement that system and fire every U.S. employee. The way I see it, I should have worked less. Not everyone is the cause of their own fate. Sometimes there are external factors beyond their control. Do I think there is fraud in the world? Of course I do. I’m a cynic. However, looking at any situation on the surface just makes you look like an ignorant moron. You know why? Because you are being an ignorant moron.

I don’t think arguments against public services have anything to do with right and wrong. I think they have everything to do with being selfish. It’s an inability to help out your neighbor when they need it, and justifying your actions as somehow noble. It’s being stingy. You can try and cover it in any guise you like, but really…it’s just being stingy.

When a politician or individual goes on TV and yells into the camera and touts that the government is taking food out of their mouths, I want to reach into the camera and bitch slap them until they are unconscious. Either that, or at least wipe the ketchup off their tie. Especially when you see that they are neither hungry, ill cared for, or in any way downtrodden. The reality is that the individuals who are in need, rarely get on camera unless it is on a scale so large that it’s impossible to miss.

I am overwhelmed when I see what a small group of people can do once they put their minds to it. Just look at what happened in Haiti, New Orleans, and even Iowa when the floods came through. But you have to ask yourself. Why can’t we do something for people before the disasters happen? Aren’t there people in need now, who could use our help?

The answer: Yes there are. So why not get a small group together, and see if you can change the world?