Stand up w/ John Kerry

"I blew a joke, but these guys blew a war."
-John Kerry on Larry King Live

The Glories of a Big Brother?

I am a regular reader of Thomas Barnett’s Blog and one of his latest articles caught my attention---“Big Brother Watching You? It Wouldn’t Be All That Bad.” I found it fascinating so I took the liberty of posting it here on this site. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, with the following I will bring you up to speed on his writing.

I stumbled upon the work of Thomas Barnett a few years back when his most recent work at the time, “The Pentagons New Map,” was the hottest thing on the shelf. In the Pentagons New Map Barnett intricately in a conversational style dictates how developed countries, developing countries, and rogue states interact. He puts forward a theory that countries are either on the “same map” as the US or they are not. Those countries that are on the map with the US are interested in collaborating in economic relationships with the US. However, countries that are not engaged with the US or other countries on their map are in the “gap.” Those in the gap according to Barnett are potentially dangerous, because of their lack of cohesiveness with countries that are working together to facilitate if not harmonious, at the very least functional and stable relationships. Ultimately Barnett believes globalization will promote peace via economic bondage among nations.

Barnett’s work intrigues me because he doesn’t pledge allegiance to either the left or the right. Because of this he is able to maintain a sense of creative autonomy to apply his analytical dexterity to put forward solutions to problems in an innovative manner. I respect his approach. In a day in age when politicians and pundits--generally speaking--have their balls in the purse of those who finance their campaign or that of their editors, he allows him self the ability to think.

All in all Barnett is a worthwhile read. His work is intellectually engaging, but put forward in a style that reminds one of listening to their brainiac uncle spin yarns at family gatherings about how the world works or should work. You may not agree with everything he has to say, but his work will encourage you to think further than schwill spewed in your local newspaper.

Big Brother watching you? It wouldn't be all bad

The Daily Southtown
November 21, 2006
By Thomas Barnett

George Orwell had it completely wrong: ubiquitous sensing technology won't be the dictator's tool for enslaving ordinary citizens. Rather, it will give open societies the capacity for serious resilience in an increasingly connected world where danger knows no boundaries.
We're standing on the edge of a technological revolution that will provide us with everything we need to defeat transnational terrorism in this so-called "long war," and, no, it won't be some secret "government project." Instead, this revolution in capabilities will be driven primarily by the private sector's response to the growing desire of average citizens for hyper-connected lives.
Today it's MySpace and YouTube, where young people share their most intimate details with the world, but tomorrow it will be the real-time sharing of sensor data -- in effect, linking your desires to your movement.
We've gotten early glimpses of this technology all around us, such as Amazon.com remembering what type of books you like and pushing similar ones in your direction.
Then there's your car navigation system finding you that specialty grocery store just as you get off the interstate near grandmother's house. So not only does Little Red Riding Hood stay on track, she can basically forget about lugging that basket.
But what if you were willing to share more than just your location? What if MySpace becomes AnySpace?
Then it will be that salesperson in store B who walks up to you unprompted with a tie that matches perfectly the shirt you just bought down the street in store A. He'll also know you prefer gold cuff links in geometric shapes.
How? Your cell phone will announce your arrival and allow the store to pull up all your preferences and recent purchases. So yeah, those cuff links will be on sale, but only for you, and only in that store and only for the next 15 minutes.
Years off? Hardly. You can get this service right now in the right stores in Singapore.
But it won't just be young people driving this explosion of new sensor-location services. Our aging baby boomer population surely will fuel its own revolution in elder care.
Say you have a heart condition. Today you might get it checked out every few weeks in your doctor's office. But why not wear a sensor that pushes your real-time heart rate over the Web to your medical provider? Why can't we all be "under a doctor's care" all the time?
I'm not talking some technological ball and chain here. Today's small subcutaneous implants become tomorrow's down-the-hatch pill that you swallow, sending thousands of nanosensors racing through your bloodstream.
Take two of these tonight, and the doctor calls you in the morning!
I know, I know, it's scary stuff ... until it's your ticker that's not working right and you'd rather not spend the rest of your days in your living room recliner, afraid to go out. Ever watch a parent go through that? Want something better when your time comes?
Why stop there?
What if you had such biosensors spread throughout the population? Imagine how you could monitor the winter flu season.
Spread them among agricultural livestock. What outbreaks might you prevent then?
Disperse them throughout forests and rivers and lakes. Who knows what you could learn about global warming?
Security-wise, America can't possibly track for every low-probability high-impact event that transnational terrorists might toss our way. Similarly, we've got to stop closing barn doors after the cows have gone--as in, a terrorist plants a bomb in his shoe and from then on all passengers' shoes are X-rayed by airport security.
Trust me, Mr. Shoe Bomber could have shoved his explosives somewhere much worse. If he had, we'd all be removing more than just our shoes.
Fast-forward a few years to when the United States is saturated with sensors, and you begin to see the networking/computational possibilities: Collect enough real-time data, and your capacity to notice and thereby predict "suspicious behavior" grows exponentially. Soon you're not just tracking for bombs but for bombers.
Want a world without secrets? Such transparency is coming faster than you think.
No, this development won't signal freedom's downfall. Instead, ubiquitous sense-think-and-respond networks will constitute the cornerstone of our society's resilience in this long war against terrorism because tomorrow's definition of deterrence will be, "anything the terrorists throw at us, we can counter faster."
Thomas P.M. Barnett is a distinguished strategist at the Oak Ridge Center for Advanced Studies and the senior managing director of Enterra Solutions LLC. Contact him at tom@thomaspmbarnett.com.

Rainy Afternoon in Stumptown & The One Hit Wonder

Today is a glorious Portland day, rainy wet and gloomy. However, I refuse to be prisoner to my domain. I write from Stumptown Coffee situated on SW 3rd Ave. It is one of the true gems of the P-Town coffee scene. Many of the cities hippest hipsters and hard core coffee freaks call Stumptown their home away from home. Like most of the coffee houses in town it has free wi-fi access, which is very inviting to bloggers, as well as students, job searchers, writers, and web surfers. In addition to being the provider of the finest French Press Coffee and Espresso Drinks in town, it also proudly boasts a sustainable business model by supporting the farmers who produce the beans and offering insurance to its local employees, in addition to donating its fresh roasted coffee beans to local shelters. The atmosphere of the downtown location epitomizes the spirit of the beatnik coffee house scene with a bold twenty-first century twist. The art is swapped out monthly, and dependent upon the month one may wonder if the large pieces are on loan from New York City’s Museum of Modern Art. I often suspect that if I glance behind one of the illuminated Apples glowing from one of the many i-books on location that I may see the ghost of Jack Kerouac staring back at me. Oh yeah, and if you need a brief retreat from your favorite caffeinated beverage you are encouraged to order your self one of the many malted beverages on the menu.

As mentioned, Stumptown is a haven for writers; I struck up a conversation with one local wordsmith who goes by the penname, Alexander Haley. We chatted over coffee and I told him about this blog. I asked if he anything he could contribute. Sitting across the table from me he emailed me a piece he calls “One Hit Wonder.” I reviewed the piece, which describes a day in the life of a bunch of twenty-something Montana mountain dweller do-gooders with an affinity for psychedelics. I like the piece and I offered to give it some legs by posting it here on this blog. I asked Haley, as he peered up at me from behind the quintessential i-book if there was any truth to this story? With a sly grin, he replied, “There is a little bit of truth to everything.”

One Hit Wonder
By Alexander Haley

The speedometer reads seventy-five miles per hour, a speed I presume to be reasonable rate of travel. I push down Interstate 51 thinking to myself. “I’m late, I’m always late. But I justify my tardiness using the rational that I’m ambitious, and I merely attempted to schedule too many activities into one day. A school of thought consistent with my basic life philosophy, the creator has provided for the human species mere moments, use them accordingly.

My focus returns to the interstate as the large metallic green sign reveals to me that my exit is a mile away. I remove my foot from the accelerator and cautiously apply it to the brake pedal, my Ford F-150 responds accordingly, not sliding or slipping amidst the remnants of the last 24 hours snowfall. I coast up the exit ramp, as I do, I consult the directions I scribbled into my 3” x 2” memo notebook. If followed correctly I should arrive at a party partially held in my honor.

I arrive at Trigger Gardens and recognize the split and I follow the road to the right. Trigger Road resembles a snowmobile trail, having been the recipient of the 12 inches of snow that was deposited on southwest Montana the day prior. The conditions being as they are, I am prompted to shift my truck into four-wheel drive. Maintaining control of the machine with my left hand on the wheel, I extend my right hand to the dashboard dial and switch from 2-wheel to 4-wheel drive. This simple maneuver has instantly improved the immediate parameters of my life. “Ah technology.”

My machine and I plow forward down the snow packed road, after a few moments I locate the green house I read of in my directions. I steer my machine into the drive. Due to my lack of punctuality I park behind the timely partygoers at the bottom of the upward sloping drive. I turn my machine off, take a quick inventory and gather my offerings of hummus, pita bread, an eight-dollar bottle of Australian Merlot and check my pocket for the herb I acquired earlier in the day. With my gifts in stow I trudge through the snow and bitter cold to the rustic bungalow that is nestled quaintly amidst the Elk Horn Mountains.

The porch is well lit illuminating the cleverly painted exterior, lime green with a sponge or smeared finish of forest green trim. Knowing that I am expected and suffering from the bone chilling cold I enter the dwelling without knocking. “Damn it’s cold, “ I announce, as I slam the door a burst of visually frosted air sneaks in with me.

Everyone is in festive spirits and happy to see me, as I am happy to see them. Jane, the host of the gathering takes my coat and wishes me a happy birthday. I return the greeting with, “happy birthday to you too.” The party is to celebrate the birthdays for the four of us who work together in a modern day orphanage. Jane, a tall attractive dark haired, dark eyed woman who just turned 29 is a Therapist. Valencia, a sparkling young gal with much courage, and one of my supervisors turned twenty-five. Max my immediate supervisor, a kind burly individual, became the age of twenty-six. And I turned twenty-eight.

I settle into the gathering by taking a spot on the floor and sit Indian style amongst Jane, Valencia, her boyfriend Jack, and an interesting character affectionately referred to as Gorilla. His real name is Ed, but has he been given the name Gorilla due to his stocky appearance, dark hair and eyes, and highbrow. Jack is no less a character, his hair fashioned into a long ponytail and he has a goatee that hangs well below his collarbone in Jesus like fashion. I get a good kick out of Jack, he is a come as you are kind of guy, not afraid to speak his mind, or just speak foolish all in the name of good fun. If you met Jack, you may find him discussing throwing poop, or many other subjects that could make a stranger feel a bit uncomfortable. Jack lives without reservations.

Max has not arrived, in his absence many good-natured jokes are made of his whereabouts. You see Max is contemplating life and Christianity; he seems to be straddling the fence between weekend warrior and devout Bible Thumper. Taking this into consideration and the fact that his girlfriend, Sandra, has just flown in from Wisconsin, we have plenty of material to forge together several comedic scenarios depicting their current happenings.

In the kitchen is a buffet of vegetarian entrees, including the hummus and pita bread I supplied, along with beans and cheese rolled in tortillas, fresh sliced peppers, carrots, cucumbers, dill dip, guacamole, salsa, blue chips, chocolate cake, and pecan pie. All of which will be washed down with the ale and wine stored in the ice chest.

The mood of the room is social and loose, as we have removed our professional masks and personas that we all display at work in the group home. All of us, with the exception of Jane carry the title of behavioral Specialist, and today our behaviors are very special.

Valencia leaks to Jane that Gorilla feels uncomfortable around her because of her training as a therapist. He believes she could be analyzing him. Everyone laughs, I also come clean with concerns of being analyzed, feeling I may have much to offer up for analysis.

We swap stories of our day-to-day adventures, current events, the looming war with Saddam Hussein and Iraq, foolishness, hopes and dreams, so on and so forth. The only rule is that anyone engaged in “shop talk” will be forced to chug his or her drink.

Throughout the conversation I have a couple of glasses of wine and the herb in my pocket is begging to be smoked. Despite the loose atmosphere I am unsure as to how to broach the subject. I know Jack and Gorilla will be down with the idea, Valencia does not usually partake, and Jane does not, so I don’t want to be rude. So I sit and drown my cravings with another glass of wine. Conversation continues, I speak of an attempted summit of Elk Horn Mountain I had done the previous day with a student. The shoptalk rule is ignored, as the story is rather exciting because the climb was discontinued due to the threat of an avalanche. Out of the blue Jack pipes up, “Hey P-Funk, got any grass?” Now that the subject is on the table and Jane is not taken aback at the idea, I respond, “As a matter a fact I do.”

Hearing this Gorilla also becomes excited. “You guys have some pot, eh? Do you want to smoke something that will really fuck you up? “What is it that you have?” I cautiously inquire. “Uh oh, Gorilla is bringin’ out the Salvia!” Jack declares. “Salvia? What is Salvia,” I ask.

Gorilla often has some kind of concoction, usually acquired at the health food store, or something he learned in a Tom Brown Tracking Course.

“It’s called Salvia Divindorum, it’s a spiritual medicine used by Mazatec Shamans when meditating, they use it to put them in touch with God, and bring them in balance with the earth. I heard about it from a friend, and found it online, so I bought some. Do want to give it a try?” Gorilla asks with mischievous grin.

Jack gets worked up, “I smoked some of the Salvia the other night, I could not feel my arms and did nothing but laugh uncontrollably. It was definitely intense, you should try some P-Funk,” laughing devilishly.

In my past life as a gardener I planted ample amounts of a plant called Salvia. A low growing perennial with lavender to navy blue spiky racemes that flowers in late June into early July. I had once read that a strain of the plant had psychedelic properties. Confident that I have some sort of dominance over the flowering creature because I had lodged so much of the plant into the earth I was feeling brave. Not to mention I am rather well versed on the subject of psychedelic drugs---I assume I can handle just about anything. Another caveat I must add is that I have smoked some of the herbal alternatives to marijuana often found on the Internet, and all that I got was a headache.

So I say, “Sure Gorilla, I’m in on the Salvia.”

Jane and Valencia listening to us converse about this curious plant, say they want to observe us under the effects of Salvia. We all dress for the elements and step outside for this shamanistic experience.

Standing outside, and still feeling a bit cocksure about the event I pull out my pipe and proceed to pack it full of the Kind Bud I acquired earlier in the day. Jack says, “I don’t know P-Funk, I don’t think you’ll need to do that.”

I scoff at him and fire up the glass piece, take a hit and pass it on to him. Meanwhile Gorilla has packed his glass bowl full of Salvia. He hands it to me. It looks like over dried pot that is commonly referred to as shake. He says, “Light it and hold the flame to it, inhale and the hold the hit in as long as you can. But dude…you better sit down.”

Obeying Gorilla’s advice I take a seat on the edge of the porch over looking the forest of tall Lodge Pole Pines. I press the pipe to my lips, light the Salvia, take a hit, and as directed I hold the hit in as long as I can---maybe 40-45 seconds. At this point I am still in doubt of the toxicity of the substance as I a pass the pipe to Jack. I exhale and as I do not only do I blow out the psychedelic laced smoke from my lungs, but also any particles of sanity that I may have possessed prior to taking that one hit of Salvia.

Long before the last hit of Salvia passes from my lips I am suddenly deposited into a brand new existence. I hear the familiar psychedelic whow-whow-whow-whow deep within the furrows of my cranium. I feel the full constraints of gravity pushing me back against the earth as if all the muscles in my body are defending my space in the universe; every last bit of my strength is contracting against the suddenly obvious force of gravity. My head, with out my permission falls back as far as it is physically possible, leaving me to stare face up to the sky. My mouth gapping wide open and my pupils are fully dilated---I don’t feel cold, I don’t feel warm, I feel simply numb. I am aware of my surroundings, but I do not care, and it doesn’t matter because there is nothing I can do about them. Gathering just a bit of control I lean back stretch my hands down to the porch, stabilizing myself in tri-pod like fashion. This task takes maybe 3-4 seconds, but for my hands to reach the planks seems likes an eternity.

My skyward gaze is focused on the underside of a pine branch that is topped with snow. Suddenly, my field of view kaleidoscopes and the image of the pine bow multiplies one hundred times over like one giant screen saver. I am aware of everything and nothing all at the same time, every molecule of energy physical or metaphysical becomes blatantly apparent. The vibration of the universe flows to me and thru me, like the waves of a 10’ by 10’ swimming pool filled with a thousand swimmers swimming. In the background I can hear the voices of Jane, Valencia, I hear Gorilla coaching me thru this funnel, “Focus, the more you concentrate the longer it lasts.” My breathing slows down; every breath in is like it just blew in form Eden and every breath out is on a return trip to the promise land. Although I am physically aware of where my body is stationed I am somewhere else, lost in my own mind. Some thoughts are beautiful, fully absorbed in my pine branch world, some thoughts are frightening, I speculate about not revisiting sanity. And then like the opening of a door I return to the sub-conscious world of magnificence.

Slowly the intensity wears off and I make a slight return to reality. Jack is nearby and has set the pipe behind me. I hear his voice, it is reassuring, and it is good to recognize someone. I again reach for the pipe. Jack says, “Hmm, going there again?”

I take a second hit, as I exhale I wish I had not. Again my attentiveness to gravity is heightened, not only do I feel the pressure of gravity, but my muscles have given up the fight and my body becomes like one giant rubber band. No longer can I sit, as I have become a rubber band that has been struck by lightening. Although I know that this is not possible, the world in which I currently reside, nothing would surprise me. I begin to wander aimlessly through the trees, keeping a bearing on the house, my lone anchor to the real world. I can’t stay still and I decide my best chance of regaining normalcy is to keep moving. I fight with Salvia and then give in surrendering to the moment---battle, then surrender. I hear Jack, “How you doin’ P-Funk, you know four in five people don’t return.” He continues to chuckle.

I think to myself but I am unable to speak, “Jackass!”

After what I suppose is ten minutes the effects begin to subside. No longer is gravity such an issue. Yet, the arrangement of my thoughts is in limbo, like having too many windows open on a computer. Some moments I feel very rested, like waking from a long slumber. Other moments have a peculiar clarity to them. These thoughts are very basic, and simplistic. One must keep moving; you can move forward or backwards, it is all merely a choice of the energies you choose to subscribe to. But you cannot stand still or you will open your self to the parasites of the world. This being similar to the lichen that assumes residence on a random piece of granite that comes to rest in the forest. The granite that once was perched high atop the mountain broke free from the whole and tumbled down to the forest floor. Moss and lichen move in cloud the rocks view, pilfer its vision and borrow the energies of the granite. The rock becomes stagnant, a mere subtly of the glorious face it once belonged to.

“Wow!” I shout, “Wow, Wow!”

“Good to see you again P-Funk.” Jack says grinning ear to ear.

“What’d ya think?” Gorilla inquires wide-eyed, with an expression that reveals, that is some crazy shit.

Still unable to completely grasp the English language, I reply, “Intense, in—tense!”

“Hey it’s damn cold out here, lets go back in,” Jack declares.

“Good idea,” I reply. And the three of us cranium explorers return to the warm confines of the bungalow.

Valencia and Jane, whom had previously returned to the inside, are sitting in Buddha like fashion on the floor chatting welcome our return. “How you guys doin’?” Valencia asks, shaking her head smiling. Jane also curious of our state of being says, “I was observing some strange behaviors out there.”

“You think there were strange behaviors out there, you should have been in here.” I state, as I point to my temple.

“I used to plant Salvia by the dozens, but this time it planted me!” I broadcast shaking my head.

Tobias Stone meet Dr.Phil

I write with less then nimble fingers and my usually clever wit is a bit lethargic. I was in attendance at the Rosie Advertising awards last evening. Following the ceremony I made my way to a party hosted by 52 Limited. The gala was one of those affairs in which the booze was free, the mood was light, so I made the executive decision to make the most of the complimentary New Deal Vodka and cranberry cocktails. A good party (at least what I remember), anyone who is anyone in the Portland advertising world was in attendance. These events are good fun; everyone is feeling good, young creatives armed with business cards are out to impress the impressionable hoping to land their next gig, or their first for that matter. The wily veterans spinning yarns about their endeavors showing off their arm candy and smoking cigarillos. You gotta love it.

I ran into this one kid as I stood in line for one of the bartender’s infamously strong drinks. We engaged in small talk, I asked him what he did; he replied that he was new to town and looking to get his start. He asked me if I had any advice for him? I recognized this kid's sincerity, thought for a second and said, “Whatever it is that you are doing, do it with all your might, for timidity is danger. It’s best to be bold--of course you will make mistakes--but if you make them while being confident and daring you can correct them with even more confidence. The bold are honored, the timid are forgotten.” He gave me an understanding grin and thoughtfully nodded his head. He asked if I had a card, I obliged his request and he slipped me one of his. He shook my hand, thanked me and disappeared back into the party.

There was something about that kid, there was desire in his eyes, but he had an odd quality about him. It was as if he needed someone to affirm to him that it was OK to be audacious. I suspect he is, but he is wrestling with the prescribed comforts of conformity, and the exposure of independence. A legitimate battle, however, as I have learned there is little satisfaction in only going half way and wondering, “What if?”

God Has a Foreign Policy?

This morning I read For Evangelicals, Supporting Israel Is ‘God’s Foreign Policy’ by David D. Kirkpatrick of the New York Times. Kirkpatrick discusses how the Israeli government and Jewish pro-Israel lobbying groups are capitalizing from the powerful support of American evangelicals. Essentially these American evangelicals believe that by bankrolling Israel they are facilitating the second coming of Christ. First off, God has a foreign Policy? In theory no one should be foreign to God. I don’t get the whole, “My God is better than your God argument.” Economic interests aside, this fiasco that exists between Muslim and the West/US, Muslims and Jews is a long running family feud. “Dad loves me more than he loves you.” Is this really worth the violence, the setback that all of these societies are subject to. A word to the Christian evangelicals, Islamic extremists, and Zionists drunk on their faith, it’s time to sober up.

I mean give me a break Pat Robertson. Do you ever give any thought about what comes from your mouth? Like making the suggestion that Ariel Sharon’s stroke is God punishing him for authorizing the with drawl of settlements that are Biblically considered to be Israeli Real Estate. Lay off the sauce my friend; Ariel Sharon had a stroke because he is 78 years old!!

Islam began as an idea that sought to control people’s actions by encouraging living in the here and now completely in touch with the divine. The leader of this creed was a man by the name of Muhammad. A common man, born in 570 A.D., who lost both of his parents by the age of six, he was said to be very sensitive to women and those who suffered misfortune. In 610--Muhammad, while on retreat in a cave in Hira--was greeted by a messenger who first revealed the message of Islam to the prophet. When he returned he shared this experience with his wife Khadijah and one of her Christian relatives who declared that Muhammad had been greeted by the angel Gabriel. A second meeting with Gabriel at the cave in Hira affirmed to Muhammad that he had been chosen as a prophet. Some twelve years later, the prophet established the first Muslim community in Madinah. At this time he stated, “None of you can be a believer unless he loves for his brothers what he loves for himself.” Muhammad believed everyone was equal in the eyes of God.

Jews read from the Torah, Christians the Bible. Muslims, who read from the Quran, consider them their siblings within the ahl-kitab, the “people of the book.” Muslims believe the Quran is the message of God, the divine final revelation. The Quran emphasizes an ideal social behavior; it also reinforces the fundamental Islamic idea to live in the here and now and to stay in touch with the divine.

Much like the Ten Commandments create the base for Judaism and Christianity, the five pillars of Islam construct the footing that maintains the Muslim belief and practice. These five pillars developed from a sermon given in Arafat in 632, where Muhammad delivered the message of God, characterized the expectations of Muslim conduct. The five pillars consist of shahada, salat, zakat, sawm and the haj. Shahada is a profession of faith in God and the acceptance of Muhammad as the prophet. The second pillar, salat, outlines daily prayer. According to the five pillars, Muslims are expected to pray five times daily. Empathy for thy neighbor is a fundamental expectation for a Muslim. Therefore, the third pillar, zakat, gives structure to the act of charity within the Islamic community. Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, is the time the fourth pillar of Islam—sawm (fasting)—is observed. Three months after Ramadan, the Islamic calendar calls for the time of the haj, the fifth pillar of Islam. According to this pillar, once in a lifetime each Muslim man and woman is required to make a pilgrimage to Mekkah.

The five pillars detail an elementary idea as to how a Muslim should carry out his or her relationship with God. Similar to the Ten Commandments, the pillars present a righteous way to conduct one’s life. Also, parallel to the Ten Commandments they present vague guidelines that are open to interpretation. Throughout the ages this room for controversy has opened the door to conflict and bloodshed between the three faiths.

When the similarities and differences between the three faiths are compared to one another two simple patterns emerge. The first is an organic conviction in a Supreme Being and the ways in which this Being created its ideology for the people that inhabit the planet earth. The second pattern is a handcrafted set of rules and regulations created by mankind throughout time.

The similarities between the Abrahamic faiths converge on a parallel belief in one universal and omnipotent God. This belief is supported and facilitated in all three faiths by prophets, Holy texts, angels and mystics as well as, by promises made by God. The foundation of each faith is supported by the core values of the five pillars and the Ten Commandments, as well as the one common denominator of Abraham as the unifier.

Conversely, the differences begin with the fact that each religion has its own respected leader---Moses, Jesus and Muhammad. Each religion also maintains its own rules in terms of alcohol, monogamy or polygamy, marriage and divorce. Although these various practices are meant to encourage devotion and to strengthen ones connection to God, they very often create an unhealthy and sometimes violent sense of competition between the three faiths. A number of misconceptions have risen and threaten to undermine the legitimacy of all three faiths. The September 11th, 2001 terrorist attacks by an extreme sect of Muslim Fundamentalists have painted Islam as a violent and vengeful religion. It is perceived by some individuals that these attacks were a retaliatory effort by these Muslim individuals to reduce the power the Jews have established in the west. It is also observed by some, that this western influence the Jews have amassed will enable them to strength the Jewish state of Israel, which is set in the heart of the Muslim world. To complicate matters further, the 2003 invasion by United States and Coalition Forces of the Arab state, Iraq, is often identified as Christian crusade led by the United States, meant to undermine the Islamic faith. These skewed political views further divide the Abrahamic family scaring the already wounded relationship.

Despite these three misconceptions there is one question that still must be addressed; what is God ultimately seeking from Muslims and their siblings the Jews and the Christians? Is God concerned with whether one bows in the direction of Mekkah, chants, or holds a Rosary in their hands as they pray? Or does God seek praise and love and yearn for human kind to respect and honor one another? The incongruities that have led to conflict when paired against the similarities of the faiths seem trivial and overlook the true message relayed through Moses, Jesus and Muhammad.

The three figures God chose to be his or her messenger relay two native themes. The first idea---focus on God. The second treat thy neighbor as you would treat thy self. These ideas are repeated throughout the Quran, the Torah and the New Testament. This is what God wants and these down-to-earth ideas can unite the Abrahamic family. The twenty-first century descendents of Abraham bear the responsibility of connecting this fractured family. It is the duty of this generation to initiate an inner faith dialogue that allows each of the three faiths the opportunity to gain an insight on the others perspective. This opportunity for education within the faiths has the potential to shed light on the similarities shared by Judaism, Christianity and Islam. The recognition of the equalities between the three faiths could act as the bridge that could unite the faiths to peacefully confront their disparities. Because this generation of descendents has been witness to the magnitude of the violence that this feud, fueled by misconception, is capable of. It is of the utmost importance that leaders from all three faiths step forward to begin the process of coming together before this turmoil not only destroys the family but the world.

More about me

Do my bold assertions make me arrogant, confident, or cocksure? Do you loathe me already? Maybe you identify with me. Maybe you wish you could. However, we have never met. Are you bored, is your life not stimulating you, are you at work and mentally on hiatus escaping from the data you must enter? Will you return home at the days end a slave to your routine and your television? You despise me at the moment, but you are curious you want a piece of me, but you know you do not have the courage to live my life.

But is this really about me? I think not, it’s about you, I’m writing this for you, not for me. Or am I? In all my glamour, my success, the attention I gather, has it lead to my happiness. I’m not sure, but here I am online seeking more, a junky addicted to my celebrity status. What is it that I yearn for? To be connected to the day-to-day, the average Joe, an opportunity to break free of the isolation of a billion eyes wondering about the intentions of my every move.

Maybe I am like everyone else, seeking acceptance on a primitive level, a human level. However, it’s funny, I seek the assistance of a machine to accomplish this task. Is this the direction our society is going, will we have a virtual life in addition to our day-to-day reality. Will this enable a life of greater fulfillment or one of greater diversion? Is the machine the great connector or the great divider?

This blog is about me, it’s about you, and it’s about how our society attempts to entangle flesh, neighborhoods and rays of sunshine with URL’s, passwords and online communities. It’s about Christians, Atheists, Jews, Hindus, Muslims, faith and no need for faith. It’s about globalization, Chinese people, American people, and the world’s people. It’s about what I buy, you buy and what we need. Whatever I deem relevant. That’s about it and that’s about me.