Dreams Smashed, Again

For all of those roughly my age, today’s tragic loss of the seven astronauts aboard the space shuttle Columbia brings back still vivid memories of the 1986 Challenger disaster. Of course, older folks remember the pain the country then went through, but for those of us in elementary school it was a key moment in our understanding of the fragilities of our dreams. I don’t feel I can give much of a “report” or “analysis” of what happened today, but for those of you just looking for meaning in a time like this I give my remembrances of that day in fourth grade:

I wanted to be an astronaut since I can remember. Probably around first grade or so I started drawing pictures of men in space-suits, floating around the space shuttle (the only spacecraft I knew of outside history books) and mining the asteroids. I remember in second or third grade NASA successfully tried the first unattached space walk. My teacher let us watch it in class. All of us thought it was something amazing to experience, and something we should aim to eventually do.

I don’t really remember the lead-up to the launch of the Challenger, the whole “first teacher in space” thing. We heard a lot about it afterwards, of course, but I recall the shuttle launch being a, by then, run-of-the-mill shuttle mission.

I went to school on the west coast, so for us the news broke at an earlier time of day than in the rest of the country. Some kid said something about a space shuttle blowing up on the school bus, but I didn’t really believe him. We exited the bus and all filed into our classroom, and just as the day’s events were about to unfold, a parent of one of my classmates burst into the room and yelled that the shuttle had exploded and everyone on board had been killed.

We switched on the small classroom black and white T.V. and saw the news unfold. All I remember us talking about was how long it probably had been before the crew had died. The same parent tried to comfort us by saying the astronauts probably hadn’t had much time at all between when the trouble started and when the cabin blew up into a million pieces. Not much more happened that day, and most kids were pretty subdued. Over the next few days, as many of you probably remember, the T.V. showed the Challenger blowing up over and over again. I must have seen it happen twenty or thirty times. On each occasion I felt a little more squeamish.

I was not alone, of course, in wishing to be an astronaut. The thing is, back then it was the default wanna-be occupation for elementary kids. The tragedy rubbed a lot of the romance off of those dreams. I don’t think the imaginations of children have gravitated towards space flight in the same way ever since.

I continued in my wish to eventually “fly” in zero gravity until eighth grade, when I finally realized the odds of making it just weren’t very high (that is, were basically non-existent). I even set up a fund to raise money for another shuttle (for which, aside from my own contributions, I think I collected about a nickel—thanks to whichever fourth or fifth grader in Mrs. B’s class put that in there). In my pursuit of outer space, however, I was one of the only ones left. Most kids moved on to dreams set on the Earth’s surface—dreams that didn’t involve explosions on national television.

Later, when my libertarian days arrived, I realized that the whole space program is much less a national adventure and more of a make-work program for Texans and Floridians. In my mind I opposed space funding, but in my heart I still got a kick out of watching the shuttle take off, and watching robots roam over the surface of Mars. There definitely is something to giving a child the wish to reach high into their aspirations and picture a life of adventure in the stars. Hopefully the day will soon finally arrive where private citizens fund and venture on their own voyages to the Moon, Mars, and beyond. For now, however, we have another tragedy before us, and the dreams of countless children smashed once again. Just as we remember the dead of the Challenger, we will remember those of Columbia. We will remember them even as we journey to that undiscovered country (ln. 89).

Sodomy? You know you want some . . .

Check out my piece on the upcoming Supreme Court sodomy case, Lawrence v. Texas, from the Minnesota Daily:

When the Supreme Court rules on the issue of homosexual sodomy this coming spring, it will likely confront one of its favorite devices — the “rational-basis test.” The test is extremely easy to meet. When it isn’t, it’s a sure sign that the justices feel so strongly about an issue that they’re willing to ignore their own precedent on its application.

The Supreme Court uses “rational-basis” in a few areas, the Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution being perhaps the most important. The clause itself is not very helpful. It merely guarantees every “person within (a state’s) jurisdiction equal protection of the laws.” What does this mean? Equal protection of murderers and nuns? Of hairdressers and masseurs? Of men and pregnant women? When is differing treatment of two groups OK and not OK? The Constitution provides little to go on.

From history, however, we can deduce equal protection definitely applies to race. It was, after all, added to the Constitution in response to post-Civil War state-sponsored racism. The Supreme Court has allowed governments to treat people of different races differently only when there is a “compelling interest.” For treating men and women differently the standard is slightly lower, allowing for the (arguably) natural differences that exist between the sexes. For most classes of people, the Supreme Court uses the rational-basis test. If a government has a “rational basis” for treating people differently (such as locking up criminals and letting noncriminals go free) it can do so.

So, you’re probably asking, what does “rational” mean? Good question — so good, that the Supreme Court doesn’t really have an answer. The best it can do is to say differing treatment must further a “legitimate governmental interest.” Examples of this are public safety, health and morality.

The Supreme Court will confront these “interests” head-on in the sodomy case. Homosexuality has never received heightened scrutiny from the Supreme Court, in the equal protection context or elsewhere. In fact, in 1986 the Supreme Court stated that the Due Process Clause, another constitutional battleground, did not give heightened protection to homosexual sodomy. It also argued that the state (in that case Georgia, in this year, Texas) has a rational basis for banning homosexual sodomy — morality. Since the Georgia Legislature had banned sodomy, the will of that “majority” was a sufficient reason for upholding the ban.

With interests such as public safety, health and morality at its disposal, the Supreme Court can uphold, in a rational-basis context, any law it wishes, no matter how crazy or arbitrary. Think about it: Whatever the law, there’s always some reason you can think of to defend it. With this in mind, it’s interesting to note the Supreme Court has on occasion ruled that laws fail to meet the rational-basis test.

One example, in 1985, had to do with residence permits for the mentally disabled. The Supreme Court stated there was no reason related to public safety, health or morality that justified not issuing the mentally disabled a permit. After reading that opinion, however, if you rack your brain you can think of reasons that stand up to the prior extremely deferential rational-basis test standards. The Supreme Court ignored that precedent and ruled to protect the disabled while keeping its cherished rational-basis invention.

Why didn’t the Supreme Court do this for gays? Probably because a majority of justices did not feel for them as they did for the mentally disabled. This demonstrates the bankruptcy underlying the rational-basis test: It masks the Supreme Court’s reasons for protecting certain groups and ignoring others. If the Supreme Court really wanted to use the test as an actual test, it would pay greater attention to the governmental interests it has recognized and the reasons for those interests.

If it gives true “rational” scrutiny to the Texas sodomy law, the Supreme Court will have to make some real-world observations — something the Supreme Court often says it is not worthy to do. It will have to ask whether sodomy laws protect against the spread of AIDS or whether that argument is a joke. It will have to ask whether a majority of a state’s population can dictate what same-sex consenting adults can do in their own bedrooms, or if the law is useless in protecting morality. Are there rational bases for banning same-sex sodomy? You bet. Should they stand up in court? No. They fail so badly you can hear the laugh track. The problem is that the Supreme Court has grown deaf to the laugh track, and its justices instead deliver their own political shtick.

Will the Supreme Court rule in favor of gays? Very likely. Will it clear up the absurdities underlying the rational-basis test? Almost certainly not. It will continue to let law suffer and policy rule. It will continue to dodge applying the test it has created.

What If They Knew the Truth?

I received some numbers from the Massachusetts-based Small Government News today. They're in response to the question "What is the maximum percentage of a person's income that should go to taxes -- that's ALL taxes, state, federal, and local? Out of every dollar, what's the highest percentage anybody should have to pay?" The question was asked of 900 registered voters by Fox News/Opinion Dynamics. The results were:

53% said: 20% or less of a person's income should go towards taxes.
25% said: 21% - 30%.
6% said: 31% - 40%.
1% said: 41% - 50%.
1% said: "Whatever the government wants to take".
14% said: "Not sure"

Of course, the number the average US taxpayer actually pays is between 40 and 50 percent (depending on who you ask). I am astounded by this poll, but I guess I shouldn't be. Not everyone listens to right-wing talk-radio like I do. But, man oh man, think of what might happen if the "word" got out on the actual cost of taxes. An education campaign on the numbers might do more for liberty than just about any other action.

Houte Cuisine

And now time for my weekly review of some of the finer dinning establishments in these here United States. This time round we journey to the land of 10,000 lakes for a particularly American, and some might say excruciating, delicacy. I am, of course, speaking of the Hardee’s at 369 Hamline Ave. N between I-94 and University in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Some of the elite in this country, that is those from the western lands (especially California), might object to my “Hardee’s” moniker and wish for the less blue-collar, and perhaps overly-refined, "Carl’s Junior.” Both are basically the same thing (and both, along with La Salsa, are part of CKE Restauants)—each graced by the yellow star, the roast beef variations on the Earl of Sandwich’s invention, and (at one time) the voice of Norm MacDonald (although, maybe not for Carl on the last one . . .).

The funny thing about Californians and their Carl is that they also have the palpitating curves and firm boxes of the Inn-N-Out Burger. My question is, why does anyone in that state eat anywhere other than the Inn-N-Out? They have burgers in ANIMAL STYLE. If you’re going to eat a burger called ANIMAL STYLE you know you’re in good company. It is because of the proliferation of so many non-Inn-N-Out restaurants in the “Golden” State (including some charging the same prices for inferior produce) that all mention of Carl’s Junior now falls by the wayside of my blog.

But Hardee’s, that Midwestern landmark of power, lives on. So, back to my story.

The lobby, as I would expect at 11:15 PM on a Sunday, was closed, or at least not extending an engraved invitation to myself and my companion. As the beaming Edisonian sign told us, though, “Drive-Thru Open 24 Hours.” That was our cue to continue our journey.

No line stood in our way, unlike the McDonalds down at Midway Center on Snelling and University. (That queue stacked up 9 autos deep with some mean-looking hockey mullets in tow.) Up to the menu (or whatever the voice-box ordering-bit of a drive-thru is called) we rolled, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a word: “Slammers.” “Most disgusting” I thought. “There’s an item I will never try, even for my restaurant review.” It was at this exact instant, however, in which I realized it was imperative upon me to order one of the little devils. Two for a buck. Hard for school loans to argue with that.

The attendant provided her services professionally, if a bit coldly, to us gents. Why, I ask, she did not thank us for the pleasant stay and wish us well on our journey I can only guess. It may have had something to do with my companion asking for her name (can’t remember—began with a “J”?) and then, at my bequest, stating “You’re doing a great job!” when she handed him my bag of curly fries and slammers. I believe her evening was made worse by our presence, but I will leave the question open. If Ms. “J” is a reader of this blog let her tell me in her own way whether she enjoyed my companion’s comments or not. Rest assured, “J,” he was not intoxicated and owns papers purportedly proving that he has received the standard inoculations.

The rest of the story is not exactly a thrilling finish. I ate the curly fries with the wonder that a “strait” fry consumer usually accords the beasts, but then after the novelty wore off I began to tier of their blandness. The slammers I do recommend—not exactly “food” but a darn sight cheaper than tofu.

My conclusion? Well, if you visit the Hardee’s at 369 Hamline Ave. N perhaps do it during what we call “daylight.” Although muggings occur more frequently in other areas of St. Paul, I wouldn’t call it a DMZ either.