This country, where exactly are we going? Our landscape has become a competition, not for the advancement of the country but simply as a battlefield between Americans with the only goal; to knock the other guy out. Well, I guess we all take sides and the regular reader knows where I stand.

Since the inauguration of a liberal president, the conservatives in this country have lost their minds. Now this is certainly not every conservative but it is the conservative movement. These days they call themselves a “Tea Party.” However, a title that is far more descriptive of their origin, methodology and representative of their leadership would be “The Group Tantrum Party.”

Now let’s be clear, I am no great fan of the president’s. However neither do I have a seething hatred that consumes me as many have volunteered for.

The economy is a mess. No one says otherwise. However there is a reality that is best ignored by the new Right. A reality that knows that a turnaround does not happen from such a cataclysmic financial crash within a month, which is how long it took to form the Group Tantrum Party. It doesn’t happen in twelve, eighteen or twenty months either. We all know that. Now how about those who stated they hope the president fails acknowledge that fact.

Since the inauguration, Republican representation has operated in lockstep opposition to nearly every piece of legislation. The party of “no” (not “know”), never seemed to care what the legislation was, including those pieces that they once proposed. All are dead on arrival or face the great RINO hunt. The filibuster has been abused in a historically unprecedented way. It was a great way to get less done and blame the party in power.

Conversation much needed during last year’s health care debates were instead a display of disgraceful and inexcusable behavior as whipped up anger and straight up lies about death panels and other such nonsense were dominant over dialogue resulting in a Republican plan today to reverse it and then put it back.

And speaking of plans are you ready for the Congressional Witch Hunts of this president and first lady to pick up where they left off following the Clinton Administration as already promised by Rep. Michelle Bachman and applauded by the Group Tantrum Party?

Today, childish commentary rules.

The birthers and the constant cries of Elitism, Communism, Socialism, and he’s an apologist who hates America dominates all conversations for emotion, not facts, which makes a mature discussion in the streets, the media or on Capitol Hill impossible. Lack of decorum during the State of the Union and an indifference to the most vile of terms and derogatory name calling used daily by the likes of Mr. Rush Limbaugh and Mr. Mark Levin when discussing the president, his cabinet and liberal politicians compounds an attitude of blinding and unreasoned hatred that promotes parents to go apoplectic and not allow their children to hear an address by the president in school; all influenced by behaviors that those same parents would not permit of their children.

This election should be a referendum on behavior, on conduct and on the actions of not just the president but of those who today are a minority party seeking to put themselves back into the majority. Show me where they gave this administration a chance and I will write a correction column. In my opinion come Nov. 2 we must this time around consider the zealous pursuits and abysmal behavior of a new rising conservatism that has subjugated the Republican Party to its will and taken this country to a point where communication, discussion and compromise is broken beyond repair. Measure the character of a person or group not by how they win but how they deal with their loss.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through The Tolucan Times or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

In reality I have not been absent that long but in that time you can’t say that the Earth stood still. We are out of Iraq, kind of. Our economy is improving, not so much…maybe a little…wait not today…maybe a little better again, sort of. And most of all these day’s if you aren’t pitching “Muslim” one way or the other, you are out of touch with current (pr)events.

By the time this goes to print we will have seen the ninth anniversary of the tragedy of 9/11 write its own chapter in that horrible day’s legacy. Still two days from today as I write this I have no idea if the news will report that as a nation on that day we honored our country or simply marked the day.

Since I last wrote this column this nation has gathered in early remembrance of 9/11, not quite at Ground Zero but two blocks away. An area that was not targeted on that day yet was still close enough to be damaged by parts of the fuselage and landing gear of United Flight 175, which was flown into the South Tower.

Following in that same theme there was a Mosque that burned in Tennessee under suspicious circumstances, a New York City Cab Driver was attacked and there is a pastor who in forty-eight hours wants to gather his flock for a book burning with the Koran as fuel.

In all these cases there has been one common theme throughout – the Constitution.

When the Mosque came to the front of our national consciousness, those in need turned to the Constitution while others still in great pain turned against the Mosque. And then there is the pastor who saw a way to “Never Forget” by planning to set on fire the Holy Book of a billion people. Once more the pastor’s Constitutional right to free expression was raised. Raised by many was the issue that if someone has the right to build a Mosque in the controversial location, then someone has the right to burn the Koran.

It’s a lot of talk about “rights” but frankly if you ask me we have taken the wrong lesson from 9/11. Those men who flew those planes into those buildings hated our country. Hated what we stood for and hated those beliefs that guide our hands at home and internationally. Today we seem to be continuing their work by making hatred live in the streets of our everyday lives; hate that those men in those planes knew would be exploitable when it rots the heart and soul of our nation.

The lesson we should have taken away from 9/11 is not hate but to find a way to never let hate kill 3,000 citizens on our shores ever again. I fear that we are leaving that more noble and hard-to-stick-to priority that really did separate our nation from others in history. Now I am not saying as a nation we should be passive to an attack; however, we should also not lose the soul of our experiment while we struggle with our emotions versus our greater and harder to follow ideals that see beyond simple emotional reactions to the very heart and soul of the meaning of a nation that one president once called “a shining city on a hill.”

As a nation we have great capacity and strength. Sometimes the soul of that strength is tested by those who may hate us for who we are but who know that they can’t defeat us as we exist. To chink our armor they must move our mountains. If the lesson of 9/11 is to hate as the enemy does then they have fundamentally changed our country and moved our mountains according to their plan and in violation of ours. But that is up to us.

Sometimes it’s not easy being an American.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through The Tolucan Times or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

America is a wonderful place to eat. We have entire industries that are dedicated to feeding us. And they are very serious about it. So much so that they have flooded our taste buds and intestinal linings with products to eat ranging from the ultra-healthy to ones that boast, “Now with real food inside!” on their labels. The problem is that when I am sent out to shop for groceries, I always pick up the right food but the wrong item.

Take for instance corn. It can stand on its own in a can. Or it can come creamed in a can or it can come whole again but frozen. It can come popped (or ready to be popped), it can come attached to a dog, it can come in the powder form of “cornmeal” (as opposed to corn side dish?), candy form mixed with some red stuff, flash frozen, flash cooked, Flash Gordon (he must have eaten corn, right?) and when all else fails…it comes on its own stick – I think they call it a cob. Of course, some people like to cut it off the cob. They can cut that off themselves or have The Jolly Green Giant and his kid do it for them. Which means that you have to choose…well, just reread this last paragraph if you must.

And God forbid that there is a sale. Then you have to find the right item that is on sale, but the instructions are if you can’t get that then just get whatever is there. Huh? Well, that’s just the kiss of death in the supermarket aisle. And worse still is “If you can’t get it on sale, then just get the ingredients…” Yes that’s panic time. First off, what ingredients? Give me a list. And don’t write “Tomato.” That is not going to fly. Big ones, little ones, micro ones? Cherry tomatoes, beefsteak (I have yet to understand the “steak” part)…And don’t tell me ripe…what is ripe? A red tomato is a ripe tomato, right? But wait…they also come in yellow, purple, green and even black. Now how am I supposed to know when a black tomato is ripe if it isn’t going to turn red? That’s just cruel.

So is there a solution? Sometimes, sure. Remember back in the day when you used to send me out for uniquely feminine products once a month? You accepted that there was no way I would understand all the sizes, types and flavors. So you sent me with the old box and I stood there holding the box up to the displays and matched the writing, the box color, the logo design, the weight of the box, how many you got in a box right down to the texture, the history, the scientific seal of approval and of course the reviews. Worked great if they didn’t change the packaging and when they did we just decided to have the surgery. Let’s face it – it was just easier and less painful.

So that’s the new rules for grocery shopping on this end. So far it has worked out this way. She still sends me to the store and I still goof it up. But now, she doesn’t say anything which explains why last night I had tomato on the cob.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net.

America is a wonderful place to eat. We have entire industries that are dedicated to feeding us. And they are very serious about it. So much so that they have flooded our taste buds and intestinal linings with products to eat ranging from the ultra-healthy to ones that boast, “Now with real food inside!” on their labels. The problem is that when I am sent out to shop for groceries, I always pick up the right food but the wrong item.

Take for instance corn. It can stand on its own in a can. Or it can come creamed in a can or it can come whole again but frozen. It can come popped (or ready to be popped), it can come attached to a dog, it can come in the powder form of “cornmeal” (as opposed to corn side dish?), candy form mixed with some red stuff, flash frozen, flash cooked, Flash Gordon (he must have eaten corn, right?) and when all else fails…it comes on its own stick – I think they call it a cob. Of course, some people like to cut it off the cob. They can cut that off themselves or have The Jolly Green Giant and his kid do it for them. Which means that you have to choose…well, just reread this last paragraph if you must.

And God forbid that there is a sale. Then you have to find the right item that is on sale, but the instructions are if you can’t get that then just get whatever is there. Huh? Well, that’s just the kiss of death in the supermarket aisle. And worse still is “If you can’t get it on sale, then just get the ingredients…” Yes that’s panic time. First off, what ingredients? Give me a list. And don’t write “Tomato”. That is not going to fly. Big ones, little ones, micro ones? Cherry tomatoes, beefsteak (I have yet to understand the “steak” part)…And don’t tell me ripe…what is ripe? A red tomato is a ripe tomato, right? But wait…they also come in yellow, purple, green and even black. Now how am I supposed to know when a black tomato is ripe if it isn’t going to turn red? That’s just cruel.

So is there a solution? Sometimes, sure. Remember back in the day when you used to send me out for uniquely feminine products once a month? You accepted that there was no way I would understand all the sizes, types and flavors. So you sent me with the old box and I stood there holding the box up to the displays and matched the writing, the box color, the logo design, the weight of the box, how many you got in a box right down to the texture, the history, the scientific seal of approval and of course the reviews. Worked great if they didn’t change the packaging and when they did we just decided to have the surgery. Let’s face it – it was just easier and less painful.

So that’s the new rules for grocery shopping on this end. So far it has worked out this way. She still sends me to the store and I still goof it up. But now, she doesn’t say anything which explains why last night I had tomato on the cob.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through The Tolucan Times or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

Today I want to pay a personal tribute to one such hero. Of course, the name I’ll use is a person that I have a special relationship with; however, you can substitute any name or names you wish to, for this is dedicated to all of our heroes who serve this country with pride, honor and a dignity that comes not from a boast but from a job so very well done.

Back in the day, Saturday Night Live did a very funny skit that was a take-off of the “Be All You Can Be” advertising campaign. It was a new slogan and ad campaign back then and it showed our military doing what they do best, what we expect, what we want in a parade, a newsreel or to hear on the subject of a loved one serving from any point on the globe. The parody by those comic clowns of the airwaves played the theme of the slogan but instead of the rousing and moving images of our heroes in full gear protecting America it showed other heroes engaged in what is generally considered less heroic work, like scraping paint, peeling an endless amount of potatoes and cleaning a line of toilets with seats at attention.

Tongue-in-cheek and not in any way disrespectful, the piece however inadvertently alerted us all to another aspect of the military, which is that not everyone in the military is on the front lines. No, there are those men and women who may or may not ever see combat. They are the men and women who we don’t see, who we don’t know about but who are still “Freedoms Heroes” dedicating their lives to our defense. So today, because it is my column, I get to mention one such hero – my brother, Colonel Jerrold N. Flyer, Air Force (nearly retired).

My brother grew up to become a doctor, a surgeon actually. (I was supposed to grow up and become a lawyer but I never quite grew up – but that is another column on another day). Today he is a decorated man, a Full Bird Colonel, a manager, a life saver, a diplomat… yes I could go on, but space is limited. He recently returned from Kyrgyzstan where everything he ever was came to an amazing conclusion of accomplishments, as he became not just a doctor and an administrator running the hospital for our troops (his co-heroes), but where he became a diplomat as well.

Now, every soldier is a diplomat, to be certain, but on top of being diplomatic he became a point man of diplomacy working with the local government (both sets of them — he was there for the coup). He showed this host country that houses the United States Transit Base named “Manas,” a key point for our efforts in Afghanistan, that this great country of ours is not a military force for power but rather a military force for good in the world. That men and women who come armed also come with arms full of hope and less esoterically, supplies, ideas and information. The photos he sent back of the people he worked with were amazing, and Jerry, I could not have been prouder. I know without survey that every American is just as proud as I am.

Jerry never saw combat, but he served nonetheless. Now after thirty years he faces mandatory retirement (anybody need a hospital run? – this is the guy to do it). He is humble about it, proud but private, so this column is going to embarrass him and I will no doubt receive a certain amount of… umm… let’s politely say… groaning for doing it. Well tough, Bro, I think you deserve a shout out – so live with it. Live with it because I am proud of our men and women in uniform, and that includes you.

So thank you, Jerry, and to all of you serving our country out there who don’t know from glamour or a reporter interviewing them but who everyday step up without hesitation to be the shield that protects us, the armor that stands up to the blows meant for all of us and whom are patriots of the highest order.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

But let’s face it, the entertainment we create is a two way street. We may create a spectacular piece of art or a momentous piece of (let’s politely say less than art) but in the end it is how it is received that makes it entertaining and to that end the public has an amazing affinity for creating entertainment without the entertainer. It may not be art at any level but if it received as such it is poetry to the public.

Death! Sounds gruesome, doesn’t it? You would think so but the public doesn’t. To the public the concept of “death” can be fantastically entertaining. Take the family, don’t forget Grandma and make a day of it. From the first public clubbing over that perfect cave, right through the perfection of death made popular by the Roman Coliseums, the public loves a good kill. And if you think that such uncivilized behavior is somehow the selection of those ancient people and their uncivilized ways then look no further than our own recent history, the Old West and a good hanging! Got to bring the kids to that one.

You can argue that death became them because they had no television. They had to see someone killed or why leave the house? Oh sure, you could have gone to a play, but that’s hardly family entertainment. Of course nowadays, we don’t have public hangings and yes, that has hurt the picnic blanket and basket industry. But not to be deterred: we are a clever and a resourceful species and we will find the 2010 equivalent to the hanging – and we have… the DUI Checkpoint!

Recently on Hollywood Way in Burbank just such a source of pleasure was erected to the delight of our intrepid sense of public entertainment. Okay, not all the public was present but then the lack of advanced notice no doubt hurt their box office. However it did draw a minor crowd. Now I am forced to admit that I know of the following because I walked around the block to see what I could see. But what I did not expect to see was the group of citizens that had come out with lawn chairs, drinks, snacks and blankets to watch the public “hanging” of DUI suspects and of course, the towing of their cars that may or may not have also been somehow mechanically intoxicated. (Cars rarely have any rights under such circumstances.) They were a rowdy and colorful group speculating on the action, the guilty, and the innocent and frankly were simply having a ball and they were doing so not because they were being entertained but because they had found the entertainment in themselves and the event itself, merely a great excuse. It was Cops in 3-D.

Which brings us to the ultimate exhibition of death before us that we can watch from the comfort of our living rooms. Today that noose, that clubbing, that trip to the Coliseum is… drum roll please… the BP (British Petroleum) Oil Cam. Yes, for your pleasure you can tune in any time day or night and watch mankind kill an ecosystem. You can watch it over lunch, you can watch with friends in a bunch. You can watch the oil pour into the water, you can enjoy it with your daughter. You can watch it all day, you can watch it all night, you can watch nature die, you can watch it with pie.

And we do. We have created one of the highest rated oil slick cavalcades on the planet. It’s the culmination of our abilities, your show of shows, honed over millions of years, that has permitted us to find a way to locate a visually morbid fascination in the worst we can create and enjoy it with a snack on the side.

That’s entertainment. Enjoy the show.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

Take the following incident that occurred recently to my wife and me. Okay, to my wife but I helped…kind of. My wife, who uses a cane, can find the heavy doors that enter and exit the ladies room a bit hefty at times. I suppose that this is some plot to make women work out at the oddest times, but that is a column for another day. Being the loving husband I am, I try to grab the door for her when it is appropriate to do so. Well, such an occurrence recently happened at the Cinerama Dome, a lovely lady with a spectacular head of blonde hair graciously and kindly helped my wife though both the outer and inner doors with a smile and sweetness that we could all learn from. Now in Bobo, Moosup or Beaver Crossing, this Good Samaritan would be just that, and not also actress Barbara Eden.

The bathroom is an odd place to run into a star, but let’s face it, they have needs too. In this town their needs and our needs frequently cross – hopefully not too closely in the ladies room, but I digress.

Yes, we all have those moments here in our odd little burg of Los Angeles. Many of us have seen the tourists go positively apoplectic when seeing a celebrity off the screen and walking down the street (celebrities do that? Like people?). And be honest, we have all faced a moment ourselves of “Whoa, that’s…” from time to time. However, we are cool. We take it in stride. We pet our celebrities with no more notice or less affection than the neighbor’s Labrador.

Yes, when it comes to our “celeb” meters, ours are clearly set on too cool for school. Or are they?

Ever meet the President of the United States? (Pick your favorite). Now a president is just another person holding the bathroom door open one arm at a time like you or me or even Barbara Eden, right? Wrong! Somehow I think most of us calm cool types would be eager to shake a president’s hand (even exiting the bathroom) with a start to our hearts and a sense of awe, don’t deny it, you would.

I remember doing a show with President Reagan. When I first saw him about 20 feet away it was interesting, sure… just like the photos… only taller. Then he moved (presidents do that? Like real people?). Yes they do. On my part, however, for a moment I got caught up with the sighting and the reality of an unreal situation and I found myself being a special visitor in a strange place in my own home town. This was no regular celebrity. This was a special person of great power and living history, and that type of meet and greet, even at twenty feet, has a power to it that is awesome! (Still didn’t vote for him, what can I say.)

This whole thought (and ergo column) evolved because a friend recently told me that a friendly joke I wrote regarding what president I would like to have a beer with would have been liked by the man I wrote it about, Gerald Ford. This beer summit question was asked of a large group of us, and while choices varied, none picked President Ford, to which I wrote “President Ford, because the line would be short.” But this got me me to thinking, while there are many people who would help my wife with the doors to the ladies room, frankly not all help while equal, is as exciting.

So, nothing great to really ponder this week, but just a simple question; Who would make you test your cool calm self if you chanced a chance encounter? For me, meeting any astronaut would make me uber excited. And if I can arrange such a meeting some day, I certainly will.

I mean, they must have bathrooms at NASA, right?

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through The Tolucan Times or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net.

For instance, who came up with the idea to cancel Star Trek? Who greenlit Showgirls? Who keeps hiring Michael Bay? And last but certainly most these days; why did we ever trade in all of our variety for so much “reality.”

Okay I admit, not a fan of the reality show. Still like Star Trek, am baffled by Showgirls, and I could happily avoid Michael Bay anytime I desire, which is always. However, for today I want to man up to my own entertainment gaffes.

I can’t act. Sorry for to those who thought I could and was perfect for the role.

Okay, but that is not so much a gaffe as it is fact. However if you cast me… that is your gaffe. Today nevertheless I have come to admit my gaffes and apologize to a couple of very fine people.

Ellen DeGeneres, you out there? I owe you an apology. Now I will admit to not being a very big American Idle fan (I mean American Idol – sorry for the momentary review). My beautiful wife, however, is, and so every week while I humbly play on the computer I overhear most of the show anyway. And when I heard that you were going to be the next judge on American Idol I said to my wife, “Seriously”?

Now I enjoy your work Ellen, very much in fact. I have enjoyed your comedy, my wife and I danced with you during your show long before the audience did, and I am still working on getting you an Oscar for your work on Nemo. However, when I heard that you were going to be a judge my judgment kicked in. What could you possibly bring to the musicality of the show?

Well, it turns that as usual you bring a light to the stage. You have been warm and welcoming. Your humor has humanized the panel, lightened “judgment time” and brought a unique insight into the evaluations as you have taken the show as serious as it deserves while not swamping the audience with nothing but the serious. Most of all you have an ear for music and you can evaluate it. I for one am impressed and so I apologize for ever doubting what you would bring.

Okay, so while we are on apologies would someone please tell Cher that I am on the line. I’ll hold.

Cher, I owe you an apology as well. I watched you on the Sonny and Cher show. Too young to appreciate fully everything before me I none the less was observant of the fun stuff that seemed silly, not understanding that good silly takes good talent.

Thus on a clear day (it may have been cloudy, what’s the difference I was in a movie theater) I watched a preview for the film Silkwood. After a nicely put together preview the important voice of the announcer came on with the roll call of performers and of course we all heard “Meryl Streep.” And then in the same important tone we heard “Cher.” Okay, the audience laughed, and so did this 24-year-old full of himself audience member. I felt like I was part of the “in crowd” who backed up one another’s laughter with commentary that made each of us a Siskel and or Ebert.

So Cher, my apologies to you. You put us all in our place and showed me and the rest of us what a great actress you are. I should only have a fraction of your talent before the camera. I was wrong to laugh and you have made that clear every time you get before the lens.

I have a saying I use often that goes observation then conclusion. Periodically I have to remind myself of this. As an audience we demand much for our buck. And we should, it’s a lot of bucks in play these days. And to that end there are performers today that are not afraid to step out of my comfort factor and take the risk to show me just how much talent they can give me for my buck. Now, no rule says I have to watch them but perhaps we can afford a rule that says that I should before commenting.

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net

Lloyd E. Flyer is a freelance writer and may be contacted through “The Tolucan Times” or at Alternateangle@pacbell.net