Liberalism VS Conservatism

Let’s begin by agreeing that the majority of Liberals and Conservatives want to make the world a better place. If you can’t agree with that statement, you’ll simply be wasting your time reading any further.

So, beginning with the premise that both Liberals and Conservatives wish to make the world a better place we must be able to focus our discussion on specifics ; too often these types of debates splinter off into vague generalities that neither further the cause of the debate nor help to keep ones blood pressure down.

What does it mean to make the world a better place? Better than what? Can the world be better, yet imperfect? Or, must we strive for Utopia?

I would like to suggest, first, that Utopia is not an achievable goal and second that we should set as our goal to make the world as best a place to live as we can, given the limitations of humanity.

So if you are unable to agree with my second premise stating that Utopia is unachievable, you may as well click on to your next link right now.

So if you’re still reading, I can assume you want to make the world better than it is currently, but you accept the limitations of economic, religious, geographic and cultural pressures which limit the ability to achieve a perfect solution.

If we agree no solution will ever be perfect, then we can begin to focus our attention on those solutions that provide the most benefit for the largest number of people. Let’s restate that in a political context; we want our governments to provide solutions that result in positive benefits for the largest number of people; realizing that not every program will benefit every person.

Now, let’s take a look at a global problem that has plagued mankind throughout recorded history; poverty. Let’s define poverty as that level at which a person is regularly, but not necessarily always, living without the basic necessities of life, such as: food, water, clothing, and shelter. As a side note, if you believe that cell phones, cable TV, or Internet access are “basic necessities” I can show you to the door right now.

So were looking to find a solution to the global problem of poverty as defined in the above paragraph. Where should we look first; how about those countries where poverty is less of a problem? It doesn’t make sense to look to Northern Africa or Afghanistan for solutions to poverty. It makes sense to look at those societies who have had the best results and model our solutions after them.

America was founded on the basic principal that mankind, given a collectively protected environment and left unburdened by the taxes required by a Monarchy, could flourish and thrive; capable of only the limits of their imaginations! Somewhere along the way America lost sight of its founding principles. The idea of collective security, originally intended as a physical security from foreign armies, mutated into the idea of collective social welfare programs. Let’s take a look at the results of those programs.

Statistically, minorities, who’ve traditional voted Democrat, continue to show the highest level of poverty when compared to Whites.
www.americanprogress.org

In North America the majority of the poor live in urban areas.
www.ucl.ac.uk

Urban areas vote for Democrat while more rural areas tend to vote Republican:
www.washingtonpost.com

So, we have poor folks living in close quarters in our urban centers and the majority of them vote to perpetuate the social programs promised them by Democrats. Yet as we’ve seen, the very programs they continue to vote for over and over have failed to make their lives better; they are still poor and living in crappy housing developments.

On the other hand, you have areas of the country with Republican leadership where job creation is high, unemployment lower and relative quality of life is much higher than seen in Democrat controlled areas.
www.bls.gov

So, if the goal is to provide the largest number of people with the best opportunity to be happy, doesn’t it make sense to follow conservative fiscal and social ideas; ideas that have been historically proven to be superior over socialist ideas?

You can choose to make America great again. In 2012 you’re going to have a distinct, black and white choice between SOCIALISM and CONSERVATISM, doesn’t matter who the ultimate GOP candidate is, the Obama administration’s strict adherence to Keynesian economic policies of TAX and SPEND have failed and they’ve expressed nothing but a deeper commitment to more of the same.

Solo Ride To Nowhere In Particular

It’s oddly chilly this August morning at 5:00 AM, in California’s Central San Joaquin Valley where the average high temperature for this time of year is in the mid 90’s. The faint glow of sunrise is still an hour away and it’s hard to see-- through my sunglasses--the minefield of debris that clutters the bike lane on the road ahead of me. I struggle to get comfortable in the saddle and settle into today’s ride. It’s an odd combination, sunglasses and headlights, but given today’s route, which will cover five thousand feet of climbing at a maximum elevation of just over 3400 feet, including a 3 mile pitch at 9%, the idea of saving weight, today especially, appeals to me, so my regular glasses would have to stay behind along with my jacket.

The morning air is still and it is cold, what breeze there was created only from the pace I set for myself—and that only by feel. It’s to dark to read my cycling computer and the lack of feedback is strangely annoying, but probably for the best, I don’t need to know how fast (or slow) I’m going, only that I’m pushing a comfortable pace as I warm up along the relatively flat roads towards the climbs to come, but warm is not something I’ll be for a few more hours.

Sheri’s Road House is located at the intersection of two fairly well traveled roads,  just a few miles from a local Indian Casino; an ideal location for a tiny mountain bar with a convince store and gas station to boot.  Motorcycle and hot-rod clubs used to frequent the place on weekends and parking was often at a premium.

 

Sheri’s was the epitome of the American Road House; pool tables, live music, beer on tap, and even a small dance floor for those who, perhaps, had taken advantage of the happy hour specials! But Sheri’s, it seems, has fallen victim to the times and the doors were closed a few months ago. I can only hope someone eventually buys the place and revives this local icon; someone always has, it's the American spirit to do so! At least the gas station and mini-mart are still open.

I had hoped to see other cyclists here this morning, trying to beat the August heat, but there was not a soul in sight.  My body expects to stop—Sheri’s is one of the area’s common regrouping points—and normally I would, but this morning I’m on a schedule; others will be waiting in North Fork and I don’t want to be late!  I had told my wife I’d keep her updated on my progress so I needed to stop, at least long enough to send a text, but the short climb just beyond Sheri’s was one I’d rather knock out first, then I could take a short break.

5:45AM. My first text of the day to my wife read: “Just past Sheri’s and on schedule”.  

The silhouette of the Sierras began to take form as the first light of dawn peeked out over the jagged horizon.  My headlight now made less difference as the ground around its bright white spot began to come into view.  Hazards on the road, not seen over the past hour, became easier to avoid as I could now see a bit farther ahead and in the distance a coyote crossed the road, headed to where ever it is coyote’s go so early in the morning. 

It’s quiet out here, all I can hear is the sound of my chain spinning along with the sound of my breathing, and they are in unison.  The coyote stopped and turned a curious eye my direction; he must have been wondering where I was going so early in the morning.

In the distance I could see Table Mountain, a plateau range that runs alongside of the San Joaquin River as it meanders its way down to Millerton Lake.

 

Growing up, Table Mountain was literally my back yard.  My parent’s property line borders the fence with the cattle range on the mountain; I’ve hiked nearly every inch of the place.  I’m amazed, now that I’m older, what little appreciation I had as a boy for the beauty of the valley this place over looks.

In the distance I could just make out the mountain peak known as Squaw Leap, it seemed so far away, yet it marked the beginning of the hardest part of today’s ride and I realized I had a lot of riding ahead of me and most of it upwards.

“Good morning, how are you doing?”

I was slightly startled, but pleasantly surprised, to see there was at least one other human being on this barren road.

“I’m tired” I replied, as he passed me like I was standing still.

The thought crossed my mind to try and grab his wheel and see if I could catch a tow for a short while. That thought often crosses my mind, normally just after I hear “On your left!”

“On your left” is one of those phrases that can evoke joy or pain and often both depending on who’s uttering it! I’ve noticed, lately, as my fitness level has increased and my body weight has decreased, I’m finding more opportunities to say those words rather than hear them.

But I was quickly reminded of the day's goal, Powerhouse, and I settled into my “comfortable pace as I watched him ride away.

The lone rider slowly grew smaller as the distance between us increased, this was the first real climb of the day—the climb to Marshall Station, 6% at worst and a relatively short two miles—and I knew I’d need every bit of energy for the climbs to come.  I never got his name, never exchanged more than two or three words with the man, but I felt we were connected somehow; the road it would seem can do that, and I was glad to know I was not the only one on this road to nowhere in particular.

6:11AM. I texted my wife an update: “Leaving Marshal Station, all trains on time!”

Marshal Station is a mystery to me; it’s been there for ages, attested to by its adobe wall construction and rusting corrugated steel roofing, complete with lead window paned windows and the remaining hitching post outside the front door.

It served as a stage coach stop in the early 1800’s and was the site of a post office in the early 1900’s.  I used to pass by here on the 45 minute bus ride to school every week day for 12 years. 

Numerous small businesses have called this old building home over the years—currently it is a Mexican food joint, but it’s literally smack dab in the middle of nowhere, a victim of the waning lumber industry that used to bring more traffic along this road so many years ago.  Why anyone would try to run a business from here now is beyond me, but if you’re ever in the area, I hear they make a mean Chimichanga!  

  

A quick sip of (insert gratuitous ad for your favorite replenishment beverage here) and a bite of granola bar and it was onward and upward to Prather.  

The stretch of road between Marshall Station and the small town of Prather holds bitter memories for me and each time I pass I say a short prayer and remember my brother who died in an automobile crash here years ago.  I miss you bro!  But no time to stop for ceremony, not today, the climb to Prather awaits and it’s the first one to get me out of my seat; it’s a short pitch but my guess is its 9-10% and that scares me a bit because the 9 percent grade to come goes on for miles and this climb is hurting more than I expected!

6:32AM. I texted my wife once again, “Made Prather right on time!”

I ran inside the gas station for a quick spot of caffeine; my favorite source, the nectar of life, Diet Pepsi!

The grey light of dawn illuminated the parking lot and I deemed the wait for the sunrise a worthy distraction from the pain in my thighs—72 miles and over four thousand feet of climbing the day before were beginning to take their toll. I had a few minutes to kill and the rest was needed, the sun was about to rise and I couldn’t help but pause for the photo opportunity!

The sunrise is amazingly predictable; they say you can even set your clock by it! For eons it has come each and every day even though throughout history rulers and clergy have told the masses there was at least some chance that it may not, unless they conform. As I watched the sun rise over the mountains, I couldn’t help but think to myself what an amazingly spiritual thing it was.  I suppose those who never find God in their lives, rarely if ever are up in time to experience it. I’ve felt the same thing next to the ocean, as well as when standing on top of mountains; it is there, it’s real, but is it God? Only you can answer that for yourself.

7:03AM. I send my wife what I assume will be my final text before I reach North Fork: “Auberry. No more txts until I see you.”

“Until I see you” was in reference to the fact that my wife and son would be following behind later in the morning in my truck; an insurance policy; sometimes the spirit is willing but the legs are weak.

I graduated from Auberry Elementary in June of 1980. Jimmy Carter was about to lose the Presidency of the United States to an actor from California. That actor went on to become one of the greatest Presidents in US History!

The buildings are still in good shape, but the grounds are lacking; weeds growing in the tall grass where I used to play soccer and baseball.  The school was shut down at the end of the last school year because the area lacks enough children to keep it open.  Not long after I graduated, the local mill was closed; primarily due to the tree hugger lobby and the over regulation of the logging industry that eventually killed the number one employer in town. I fear Auberry shares the same fate as Marshall Station, and will soon become an historical landmark, a ghost town, on this road to nowhere in particular.