By SHAWN POGATCHNIK, Associated Press Writer, Thu Jun 28, 2:30 PM ET

Ireland elected its first black mayor Thursday, the latest sign of how rapid immigration is changing this once all-white nation.

Rotimi Adebari, a Nigerian who arrived in Ireland seven years ago as an asylum-seeker, was elected unopposed to lead the council of Portlaoise, a bustling commuter town west of Dublin.

Adebari, 43, who has been an independent politician on Portlaoise Town Council since 2004, was backed by both the right-wing Fine Gael party and left-wing Sinn Fein.

Adebari, who planned a post-election party Friday at the new parish hall in Portlaoise, called it “a great honor to become the No. 1 citizen of the town.”

Little more than a decade ago, a black person in Ireland risked being gawked at, so rare was the sight of visitors from different racial backgrounds. But Ireland has absorbed more than 30,000 asylum seekers — particularly from Africa’s most populous nation, Nigeria — since the mid-1990s, a wave attracted by Ireland’s booming economy and its relatively lax immigration rules.

These days, West African entrepreneurs run stretches of shops in urban Dublin and other Irish towns and cities, and social activists like Adebari are encouraging the newcomers to integrate into their communities.

“I got involved in the community and I volunteered. It gave me the opportunity to meet people firsthand and they got to know me,” Adebari said. “We all have to make an effort to reach out to one another.”

Adebari traveled to Ireland with his wife and two boys in 2000 and claimed asylum on the basis of religious persecution, citing bloody clashes between Christians and Muslims in his homeland. His application was rejected because of insufficient evidence he had personally suffered persecution, but he gained residency because his third child, another boy, was born in Ireland.

Asylum-seekers flocked to Ireland in part to gain European Union citizenship on the basis of having a child born in the country. Ireland in 2004 stopped granting citizenship to foreign parents of an Irish-born child, a law that had been unique in Europe.

Adebari said he had trouble finding work at first — in part because of an Irish law that bars people from working while they are seeking asylum.

So he volunteered at a local tennis club, helped found a lobbying group for unemployed people in Portlaoise and ran for office, winning a council seat on his first try in 2004.

Since then he’s finished a master’s degree in intercultural studies at Dublin City University, founded a consultancy advising authorities and immigrant groups on how to work together, and hosts a weekly radio show on his local station, Midlands FM.

“I want to encourage immigrants to be a force in their communities, to engage with their communities,” he said. “People will get to know you. Their perception of you will change just like that. That’s what happened to me.”

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On the Net:

Profile of Adebari

What it means

When I came across this article, I thought the headline was pretty amazing. I considered that the reason for my amazement probably had to do with my being an American who grew up in what used to be (and probably still is) one of the most segregated cities in the US – Chicago. Perhaps the color of my experience shades my optimism about what is possible or even realistic. This would explain my amazement.

The headline spoke to a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred before – a first. This was a legitimate cause for amazement, notice, and celebration. Why celebration? Should all firsts be celebrated simply because they are firsts, or because they symbolizes something else, something good? Frankly, the reason for celebration is that this event marks a change in the perception of what has been generally accepted as status quo – that racism defines the boundaries of possibility.

By no means am I suggesting that Ireland is a racist nation, rather, in a world that has been traumatically influenced by the last remaining superpower, which happens to have a history replete with racist doctrines, a country like Ireland might be (mistakenly) understood as “white” and “naturally” conforming to such influence. While such a perception might be the result of lenses stained with the film of racism, the election in Ireland clears the eyes of the hopeful, revealing a reality that has been hidden from them – racism is a lie. And if this is the wrong conclusion to come to, then at least one nation has signaled to the rest of the world that it is possible to change - an outstanding comment made on the global stage.

Way back in elementary school the special education class was across the hall from the gifted classroom. The teacher across the hall was Mr. Lucius, a quiet man with a patient demeanor who wore a suit and a smile every day. The students in his class were either crippled, albino, partially blind, deaf or had a severe speech disability. That was my understanding of special education - severe handicaps that were easily identifiable.

Down the hall was the class unofficially known as the dumb class. Nobody in that class was expected to amount to much. They had the oldest books, the most behavioral problems, and even the classroom looked kind of gloomy - I think the walls were painted a dull green. People threw paper airplanes, spit balls and paper clips through the air. There were sunflower seed shells, pencil shavings and balled up pieces of paper on the floor around the wastebasket, inside each desk, and around each chair. People chewed gum in class and the teacher yelled all the time. It was too easy to call them the dumb class - most of them didn’t seem to be interested in school or have any desire to succeed academically. They were a wild classroom who acted like a bunch of animals, according to one teacher. I think that’s how they came to be called the People Zoo.

The People Zoo was at the bottom rung of the academic ladder, socially speaking. I thought it strange how the school seemed to be divided into a class system ranked by perceived intelligence. Once a student was relegated to a certain class, the odds were that the student would grow into the expectations placed upon him or her. Once in a blue moon someone would transition from one level to another; but that was almost certainly the exception to the rule.

One of these exceptions was a guy named Mark. At lunch time Mark was with a bunch of guys who used to chase down and beat up me and a few guys in my class. I was the fastest in my group and Mark was the fastest in his, so we almost always were matched up against each other. The only advantage I had was that Mark never wore gym shoes - not even in gym. He would slip and slide in his Stacey Adams as I weaved in and out of parked cars to get away from him. After awhile, it became a laughing matter between us. At that point the rivalry was over and the friendship began.

Mark had two pit bull terriers at home - a red one and a tan one. I credit him with teaching me the truth about so-called vicious dogs. I found out that both of us liked to draw and that Mark, even though he was in the People Zoo class, wasn’t dumb at all. Eventually he found his way into our class. It was funny to see the girls pushing him to step up academically and the effect it had on his grades. Maybe their interest was because he had a great sense of humor and a genuinely cool personality. Whatever the reasons, Mark made it out of an environment of low expectations into one that challenged him to fully develop his potential. I wonder how that kind of opportunity might have affected others in his class.

There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she’s blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He’s always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry her boyfriend.

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her and then she can see everything, including her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend asked her, “now that you can see the world, will you marry me?” The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend is blind too, and refused to marry him.

Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying. “Just take care of my eyes dear.”

This is how human brain changes when our status changes. Only few remember what life was before, and who’s always been there even in the most painful situations.

Truth is often viewed in the past tense, as a thing that has already happened and must be divulged rather than being a measure by which one lives. Truth is also a projection, if not a weapon, seldom a light shined upon ourselves for self-discovery but rather turned upon adversarial ideologies to expose their deficiencies; deficiencies we recognize all too well as they are oftentimes our own.

Why are we so ashamed of our inadequacies? Why do we hold ourselves to be perfect in the eyes of others knowing that none of us is perfect? Why do we embrace images and illusions instead of essence and reality? We are taught that we should not judge a book by its cover, that we should judge others by the content of their character, and treat others as we wish to be treated – and we know this is right. Why don’t we do it?

Are we, as the Word of God says, sheep looking for a shepherd, easily led to the slaughter because we cannot think for ourselves but would rather that someone else make decisions for us, excusing us of our self-responsibility?

Habits are horrible things – excuses not to think, I have come to discover; not that thinking ensures a betterment of our situation or understanding. Faulty logic, it seems, is much more plentiful than straight logic and as different as reasoning from rationalizing.

And what is love as it is commonly understood but a misunderstood application of antiperspirant, used to band-aid loneliness, doubt and mortality?

Semantics and definitions have been abused to such an extent that otherwise sensible individuals have unwittingly dummied down, implicating their own ignorance as the main culprit in breakdowns of communication and transparency.

It also seems that somewhere in the not so distant past society has managed to utterly destroy common sense and replace it with assumption and convenience – no matter the consequence.

We have gone from endeavoring to know about a thing to becoming content with the proposition that we shall never know anything. Having become comfortable with our ignorance, we automatically buy into our failure … for without the attempt what can be accomplished?

An actor once delivered the lines, “if we don’t try, how can we do? And if we don’t do, then what are we here for?”

I have often argued that words exist for a purpose – to define those concepts they have been assigned to. There can be no language without definitions and without language there can be no communication.

So when someone accuses me of being wrong for calling another person ugly, I want to ask them if I am ugly for making the statement, and that if the word can be attributed to me, why not someone else, and who decides what is beautiful or ugly to me besides me?

Therein, I believe, lies the real issue. To find someone with whom we naturally agree is not the same as finding someone who has been persuaded, convinced or forced to agree. Our sense of sovereignty over our own lexicon of values, definitions and beliefs is sacrosanct. Depending on our malleability, when we are confronted with views that challenge our own we become defensive if not combative outright.

Our identity is so inextricably wrapped up in our views that even if we are wrong we are slow to concede the fact, jealously guarding our position as if our life depended on it – and to some extent that is exactly the case. When our ideas change, so does our paradigm; when our paradigm changes we look at life through new lenses. Everything may not appear completely different, but the way we see things will not be the same.

To look at life through new eyes can be a scary proposition to some. Sometimes it means letting go of a mindset that has had years to root itself in your psyche. Breaking from that can leave one feeling so vulnerable that they would rather cling to the illusion of safety (sticking their heads in the sand) than set out on a journey to reality.

Sometimes it isn’t fear that dissuades the decision to move forward, but age. At some point a person can feel that they been there and done that and that they are tired. The idea of embarking on what promises to be a demanding and challenging mission this lat in the game is not motivating in the least. They would rather leave it to the youth of the generations behind them to figure out. They rationalize that if it were meant to be, it would have been done already.

HONOLULU, Dec. 4 — When the home she had rented for 30 years for $300 a month was sold, Alice Greenwood and her 6-year-old son joined an estimated 1,000 people living in tents along the 13 miles of beaches on the Waianae Coast of Oahu.

Alice Greenwood and her son, Makalii Hatchie, 6, live in a tent. “Being homeless is not a crime,” she said, “it is the fault of the government.”

“There was no choice but to come on the beach,” said Ms. Greenwood, 60, who is disabled because of a work-related injury eight years ago and lost her benefits a month before losing her home.

Homelessness in Hawaii has become so pervasive that the governor has assigned a state employee to work full time at getting people off the beaches and into transitional housing. Once there, they have access to rent assistance programs and low-income housing.

While hundreds of homeless people live on Honolulu’s beaches, including the tourist center Waikiki, it is the Waianae Coast on the semiarid west shore where the problem is most visible. The population of Waianae, home to about 40,000 of Oahu’s 900,000 people, is predominantly native Hawaiian and is historically low income.

Hawaii’s economy has been strong in the last two years, and the state consistently has one of the lowest unemployment rates in the nation. The real estate market has skyrocketed along with the job growth, and houses on the Waianae Coast that rented for $200 or $300 a month a couple of years ago are now advertised for more than $1,000.

Nobody knows exactly how many people are living on the beach. Kaulana Park, the state’s point man for the homeless, estimated that more than 1,000 people lived on the Waianae Coast beaches, but he cautioned that any count was good only on the day it was taken. And that estimate does not account for the hidden homeless: people who sleep on a relative’s sofa, or in their cars, or camp in areas not as visible as the public beaches.

Many living on the beach have jobs, mostly in the service and construction sectors. They include families with children, who attend public schools by day and sleep in tents on the beach at night.

Venise Lewis, 35, who lives near Ms. Greenwood at Maili Beach Park with her husband and two of their four children, said her daughters, ages 8 and 10, must finish their homework in the afternoon because there was no lighting at the beach after sunset.

Ms. Lewis’s oldest daughter lives with a grandmother, and her son lives with the family’s pastor.

“They don’t like the idea of living on the beach,” she said of her younger children. “Usually when we go camping, we go home if it rains.”

The homeless problem in Hawaii came to light in March, when the City and County of Honolulu began a cleanup of Ala Moana Beach Park, at the entrance to Waikiki, and began closing the park at night in response to complaints.

Hundreds of homeless people, or “illegal campers,” as the city calls them, moved to an emergency transitional shelter set up by the state in a warehouse close to downtown Honolulu. But some went west, closer to the Waianae Coast communities where they were raised. The city has since conducted similar cleanups at other beaches.

Lester Chang, the city’s parks and recreation director, said the number of illegal campers made it difficult for his department to keep the parks safe and clean.

“I think all communities have to deal with this situation, but Hawaii is unique because it’s an island,” Mr. Chang said. “There’s no place to push them off to.”

Honolulu officials say finding long-term solutions to the homeless problem on Oahu is the state’s responsibility. The city’s housing department was abolished in the late 1990s after a scandal.

Mr. Park has been talking with New York City officials about how to adapt New York’s solutions to an island state.

He said he was inspired by a speech last summer by Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg of New York, who told of how the city had secured financing for some 12,000 units of supportive housing, and of the city’s program to help people stay in their homes by interceding with landlords to head off evictions. Hawaii has started a similar program.

In late October, the state opened a transitional shelter for 30 families, including 90 children, at a converted 1940s military building in Kalaeloa, the former Barbers Point Naval Air Station.

On Nov. 18, the state poured the foundation for an emergency transitional shelter in Waianae that will house up to 300 people when it opens early next year. The state is looking at building shelters at eight more sites along the Waianae Coast.

But Dino Palisbo, who has been living at Maili Beach Park with his girlfriend and their three dogs for about a year, said some people did not want to trade the freedom of the beach for the rules of a transitional shelter. “Half of them can pay rent, but it is so high it is going to take them out of the comfort zone,” Mr. Palisbo said. “When a studio costs $700 or $800, how can a family put four or five kids there?”

Others, like Ms. Greenwood, did not want to leave their communities for the state’s shelter at Kalaeloa, which is 10 miles from the beach park and several miles from the nearest bus route. She plans to move to the new shelter in Waianae, set to open next spring, because it is closer to her son’s school and her community activities.

Mr. Park said other homeless people on the beach looked up to Ms. Greenwood, who is a member of the state’s Oahu Island Burial Council, which works to protect ancient Hawaiian remains. A widow, she also has four adult children, but the only daughter who lives nearby has a studio apartment too small for Ms. Greenwood and the boy she adopted, Makalii Hatchie.

“She takes it upon herself to be somewhat of a leader,” Mr. Park said.

Ms. Greenwood said she hoped to begin collecting Social Security benefits and settle her workers’ compensation case soon so that she and her son could find a new home.

“Being homeless is not a crime, it is the fault of the government,” she said. “I can understand when it’s 20, 30 people, but when it hits the thousands. …”

Governing people is a tough job, tougher when the government is out of touch with or no longer interested and invested in the population it is supposed to serve. How much easier to lead when everybody is on the same page. To this end it is common for governing bodies to stack the deck in their favor so to speak. When the hand you have is too challenging - throw it in and get yourself a new one.

This ought to be a human rights violation as it is definitely a crime against humanity.

In recent news an unarmed 23 yr old man was gunned down by NYC police officers on the day of his wedding. Outrageous, right? Right. But exactly what part of it is outrageous?

It should be unquestionable that any incident where a police officer discharges a weapon, especially where it results in the death of a civilian, ought to be thoroughly investigated. Moreover, any abuse of power by those whose job it is to serve and protect should be severely prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

That said, it is common wisdom that “it takes two to tango,” and that most times there exists a contributory negligence on the part of both the so-called victim and the so-called perpetrator. Sadly, human emotions often prevent the dialog necessary to discover the logistics behind a tragic occurrence.

The offended cry out for justice often ignorant of the definition of justice - replacing it with something more self-serving. The offenders plead for mercy - understandably interested only in saving their own skin rather than the long range consequences (precedence, societal influence, etc.).

Someone once said that integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful. There can be no justice or mercy without integrity - integrity measured not as an abstract image of credibility but as a standard determined only by truth. Truth cannot be discovered without knowledge. It follows that justice cannot be administered without truth.

How many people are really interested in the truth? People smoke knowing in truth the risk of developing lung cancer. People eat fast food knowing the risk of developing heart disease. People engage in unprotected sex knowing the risk of contracting AIDS. People keep secrets out of shame, cast stones out of fear, drink and drug away hurt and pain rather than courageously facing and conquering their demons.

Do people really care about the truth or justice?

There is certainly much evidence to the contrary. The desire for retribution and revenge, convenience and illusion, comfort and assurance seem to dictate societal values. To be innocent of sin in spite of the propensity to indulge in it, is an interesting psychology… like a child caught red-handed and denying responsibility for the act, or more extreme - that the act never took place.

Was it a tragedy what happened in New York city? Yes. But why did the officers feel the need to fire so many rounds? When attention seekers exploit such situations by categorically appealing to stereotypes in the name of justice, the deceived are robbed of hope, fools are blinded, and sheep are led to the slaughter.

I saw a dog, a greyhound to be exact, with two legs - one in the front and one in the back - running, jumping and catching frisbees. The dog looked happy and unaffected by his missing two legs which it lost in a car accident. My first thought was that the dog didn’t know any better…

Then I thought of the story about the one-legged frog climbing the mountain. Everybody told him he couldn’t do it. And as he passed each competitor on the way up, they too told him he couldn’t do it. Well, to make a long story short, he did and when asked by a reporter whether or not he was discouraged by everyone telling him he couldn’t, he smiled and turned to his coach who repeated the question for him in sign language. You see, he couldn’t hear the naysayers, because he was deaf.

I smiled, humbled by my own ignorance and my proclivity to use a common phrase without thinking about its meaning or application. The dog didn’t know any better? On the contrary, I didn’t know any better. The dog was just fine.

So when I see what and who the world labels as disabled, crippled or handicapped, I remind myself that most times it is the labeler who aptly deserves the labeling. The paralyzed, limbless, blind, autistic, deaf, and deformed are some of the most blessed and talented people on the planet. They accomplish the everyday and the limited see them as amazing.

The only thing amazing about them is that they show us that we have no excuse not to be as amazing.

I had a dream where my grandmother and other family members were talking about heaven, describing it as a physical place. I was in the room, half-asleep on the couch, when I interrupted the conversation to “correct” everyone - knowing that heaven was within us. My grandmother immediately cut me off and verbally chastised me, visually upset with my interruption, all but suggesting that I needed to keep my mouth closed when grown folks were talking.

When I woke up, I called my Dad and told him about the dream. As I told him, it occurred to me that literal interpretations aren’t always the correct interpretations. I remembered Uncle Remus and the stories of Brer Rabbit and the importance of symbolism. I thought of how, when approaching anything outside of ourselves exclusively from our own paradigm, we risk not only being completely wrong in our assessment, but also losing out on some very valuable lessons.

This week has been a long one. We recently got two more children in the pre-school. Both of them are boys. One is very bright and has been exposed to a lot academically but has low impulse control. When redirected he is quick to whine and may easily graduate to a tantrum if given a time out for not listening. The other likes to holler when he cries if he is redirected one too many times.
One of the challenging aspects of dealing with both of these boys is that they represent a stereotype that is very unsettling to me. Both of them come to school dirty, their coats grimy, and smelling. It makes me want to go to their homes and give their parents the “who dat and what fo!”

I understand that it isn’t the children but the parents and I also understand that we are always placed in each others lives for either a blessing or a curse - which being dependent on our choice.

The peer models in the class are there to demonstrate appropriate behavior and encouragement through participation. Sometimes, however, I wonder who is modeling to whom, as the peer models sometimes regress - picking up some of the less desired behaviors of the new children in the class. Another challenge to stay on top of.

Its funny how when we as human beings get introduced to something new, we are humble and attentive. Then as we build our skill level we build our confidence and participation. Before you know it we are comfortable and can get caught up in our achievements, becoming cocky. As we are asked to assist others, we can become impatient and emotionally disagreeable, having to be reminded that it isn’t all about us but about community. Some of us get caught up into believing its all about how much we can get for ourselves as opposed to sharing and reaching back to help those who come after us. We forget where we came from.

I am reminded of a quote I like to paraphrase by Martin Luther King, Jr. that “I can never be [all that I can be] until you are [all that you can be] and you can never be [all that you can be] until I am [all that I can be].

My Dad shared with me a story about a client on his caseload who everyone else used to verbally abuse, calling him stupid, stinky, dirty and crippled. When he got on my Dad’s caseload, he sang my Dad’s praises until he died. He’d want to come in for a session and close the door because he didn’t want everybody knowing his business. Then he’d want to stay for an hour. It was, to say the least, a challenge to my Dad’s senses. The man had been called every foul thing under the sun so there wasn’t much sense in addressing the man on that level. Being where he was certainly indicated that he had a host of other issues to the tune that he was neglecting himself. It wasn’t my Dad’s job to judge but to listen.

One could easily look at another person’s outer appearance and behavior and label them “challenged.” But who is really challenged? It is quite possible that the so-called challenged have it more together than those doing the labeling - after all they have to function in a world where labelers exist. Most times the labelers couldn’t deal with it if they were born in the other’s shoes. A lot of white folk I’m sure would commit suicide if they were black. So whose really challenged?

We all are.

What’s important?

You don’t have to actually answer the questions. Just read straight through, and you’ll get the point.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2. Name the last five Heisman Trophy winners.

3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.

4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.

5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winner for best actor and actress.

6. Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.

These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields.

But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten.

Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here’s another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.

4. Think of a few people who made you feel appreciated and special.

5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

6. Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.

Easier?

The lesson:

The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards.

They are the ones that care.

Pass this on to those people who have made a difference in your life.

“Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today.

It’s already tomorrow in Australia.”

When I listen to the news coverage of the violent conflict between Hezbollah (The Party of God) and Israel (God rules), it can sound like a rock concert gone bad at Daddy’s house while he’s out of town. A bunch of kids wanting to prove to the world and to each other that they have what it takes to run things. Clearly they are mistaken. The broken bodies of babies scattered among the debris of bombed out neighborhoods is testament to that.

If we compare what’s going on between Hezbollah and Israel as a school yard brawl between two kids, neverminding the issues between them, it would seem that the solution is simple; simply let them talk out their differences and, with mediation, reach a peaceful agreement.

The problem is that somebody armed both sides with the tools of military. While there are those who wish to see the fighting cease, there are others - agent provocateurs - who don’t. These agents have something to gain from the conflict. They have an interest in either who wins the fight or both sides knocking each other out.

From the school yard to the principal’s office it becomes clear that somebody instigated the conflict. The resolution, however, requires the participation of both parties. A class in crisis intervention and conflict resolution might help. Somebody would have to break up the fight first, right? Here’s the catch:

What if the adult on the scene has partisan interests? What if the adult has a favorite, restraining one combatant while the other is still taking shots? What if the adult on the scene is as bad as the kids fighting – injecting his/her interests into the fray and betting on the outcome of the battle?

Sadly, this scenario sounds familiar. It reminds me of the acting role of the US in the current crisis in the so-called Middle East. I would bet a dollar that the US is in fact an integral part of the conflict – starting the fires and fanning the flames – in order to meet policy objectives targeting that region of the globe.

As a matter of fact religion has little or nothing to do with the conflict. Prior to and immediately following Saddam’s ousting, there were neighborhoods in Iraq where Sunni and Shiite Muslims coexisted peacefully. While there is a history of conflict between the two sects, the bottom line has never been about religion but power. War is always an exercise of political power. The military whether that of a superpower or that of a rebel insurgency is oftentimes the acting arm of extremists. Those fitting that definition include any who would impose their will on others in order to serve self interests.

Becoming an adult is hard. I mean, who do you answer to if you don’t believe in a higher authority and you believe you are IT? The problem as I see it is that those who simply want to live their lives in peace are usually at the mercy of those who have no peace and fill that void with ambition. How do you deal with a man who feels like he has something to prove?

Let me not point the finger. I must remember that when you point the finger at someone else, there are four pointed right back at you. And quiet as it is kept the US is ripe for criticism and reprisal. It is said that to whom much is given, much is expected. We have effectively squandered our blessings propagating our self interests around the globe. The population has been led to the gates of hell by a leadership wrought with vice. It is more than a disappointment that the US has failed to live up to its potential. It is a travesty.

Where at one time the US had the respect of the international community, we now sit on the throne of the world like a syphilis-ridden Al Capone, still commanding fear while our deteriorating health tempts the aspirations of lesser demons. To be sure, the US is not God.