In comments to the previous post, two readers, both of whom opposed the adoption of the Flag Desecration Amendment, nevertheless posed interesting questions concerning the issue of “expressive conduct”:

If one rationalizes to the extent that flag burning is protected by that first amendment (free speech), [o]ne could use the same reasoning to conclude that a political assassination is also a first amendment right.

[W]ould splashing a lot of gasoline around onto people threatening to burn a flag be considered “conduct” or “speech”?

A political assassination would constitute murder under applicable state law. Similarly, throwing gasoline on people with the intent of incinerating them (albeit, ultimately brought on by their own despicable act), would violate any number of criminal statutes, depending on the circumstances and the outcome of the act.

I believe that this issue would be controlled by United States v. O’Brien, 391 U.S. 367 (1968) in which the Supreme Court ruled, “When ‘speech’ and ‘nonspeech’ elements are combined in the same course of conduct, a sufficiently important governmental interest in regulating the nonspeech element can justify incidental limitations on First Amendment freedoms.” 391 U.S. 367 at 376.

Assuming that political assassination or throwing gasoline on people threatening to burn the flag each contains both “speech” and “nonspeech” elements (and I think it is fair to say that each does), the state clearly has an important interest in punishing murder and other conduct likely to result in death or serious injury (i.e. the “nonspeech” elements). As such, it can justifiably limit the “speech” elements that are incidental to the acts themselves.

Truth is, I agree with sentiment expressed or suggested by several readers that the real tragedy with this issue is that it has occupied so much time and attention, particularly at a time when we all have much more important things to worry about.

Yesterday the House voted for adoption of an amendment to the Constitution that would outlaw flag desecration, “flag burning” being the words that are customarily used by the proponents of the amendment to fire up emotions and garner support. Previous attempts to amend the Constitution have failed in the Senate, and, in my view, that’s a good thing.

I have never supported such an amendment, because I believe, as the Supreme Court noted in its opinion in Texas v. Johnson, that flag burning (as despicable as I find the act) is a form of speech, which is and must remain protected by the First Amendment.

“But, wait!” the amendment’s supporters urge, “There is no First Amendment issue, because flag burning isn’t speech! It’s conduct, and that’s what we want to ban.”

I disagree. The act of flag burning (the kind that makes everyone angry, as opposed to, say, the ceremonial retirement, by burning, of worn flags conducted by veterans’ and fraternal organizations) is obviously conduct, but there can be no doubt that it is conduct intended to communicate a message. Supporters of the Amendment would be hard pressed to suggest otherwise, given that the it is the very message intended to be conveyed by flag burning that has the supporters of the amendment riled up.

In the communicative sense, flag burning is only different in degree from the display of the middle finger in anger or defiance. Flipping someone the bird is, after all, “conduct,” but its communicative message is crystal clear, which is to say, it constitutes “speech.”

The American Legion, an organization of which I am a proud member, has collected a small fortune from its members in support of its campaign to have the amendment adopted. It has also engaged in massive lobbying efforts to seek support for the amendment, which efforts, in my view, could have been better directed toward the advocacy of issues that could actually help veterans.

As part of its relentless campaign, the Legion offers up poll results that show that more than eighty percent of the people in the country support the amendment. Of the poll, the American Legion National Commander has said:

“When asked a straight forward question, most Americans will give you a straight answer – Protect Old Glory.”

Here are the “straightforward” questions he referred to:

1. “How important do you think it is to make desecrating the U.S. Flag Against the Law? Extremely important, very important, somewhat important, or not important at all?”

2. “Do you favor or oppose the passage of a Constitutional amendment that would allow Congress to enact laws to protect the U.S. flag?” The possible responses were: “strongly favor, somewhat favor, somewhat oppose, strongly oppose, and “don’t know.”

3. “Would you likely vote for someone who is opposed to protecting the U.S. Flag?” The possible responses were, “yes, no, and don’t know.”

I think it is more accurate to say that the best way to get the answers you want on a survey is to ask emotionally loaded questions that relate to a complex issue and only permit “simple” answers.

I believe that even a good number of long-time American Legion members would not be so quick to support the amendment, if they were to take the time to consider what potentially can happen if such an amendment is passed.

For example, over the past few years, I have had something resembling the following exchange with many Legionnaires:

Me: “How would you feel if some day Congress passed a law making it a crime to wear a Legion Cap?”

Him: “Don’t be silly. Congress couldn’t do that. That would violate our constitutional rights.”

Me: “Are you talking about your First Amendment rights?”

Him: “Absolutely.”

Me: “Wait a minute. Wearing a cap isn’t speech: It’s conduct, no?”

Him: “Huh?”

Me: “You said that congress could outlaw flag burning because flag burning isn’t speech, but rather it’s conduct. And I’m asking how is flag burning different from wearing a Legion Cap?”

Him: “You’re being ridiculous. You can’t equate burning Old Glory with wearing a Legion Cap. It’s different.”

Me: “Well, let me ask you this. When you wear your Legion Cap, do you wear it to keep your head warm?”

Him: “No. They’re not even good for keeping your head warm.”

Me: “Isn’t it more accurate to say that when you wear your Legion Cap, you are saying something? By wearing the cap, aren’t you letting the world know that you are a veteran who served in time of conflict, that you’re proud of your service and the service of others, and that you support causes that improve the lives of veteran’s in general?”

Him: “I suppose so.”

Me: “So, both you and the flag burner are each ‘saying something,’ he by burning a flag and you by wearing a Legion Cap. So, again I ask you, how you would feel if Congress passed a law prohibiting you from wearing your Legion Cap?”

I wish I could report that at the end of these dialogs, the “Him” always said, “You’re right. I hadn’t looked at it that way before.” The good news is that more than a few do say something just like that. Unfortunately, many simply say, “I don’t give a damn what you say. I want Old Glory protected.”

I believe that the American Legion should rethink this issue, but given the amount of monetary and political capital that the organization has invested in getting the amendment passed, I doubt that it will happen.

In reaction to yesterday’s post, which was one of many in which I have admitted to being a Techno-Dope (or perhaps the victim of a Techno-Conspiracy), Zonker drafted an open letter to daughter TJ suggesting a possible long-term solution to my techno-dipshittery. Be sure to follow Zonker’s links for the full picture.

I’m thinking about packing up my toothbrush and guitar and signing myself in.

I’m sure you all know Ziggy, the cartoon character who seems to have a perpetual black cloud over his head. You may call me Techno Ziggy.

As you know, I live in fear of fooling with Mr. Template, or anything that has the word “config” in it. I wonldn’t go near an SQL, even if I knew what it was. I am battle scarred from tangling ass with Mr. Laptop.

Still, I keep trying.

I got the message from Symantec informing me that my anti-virus software is about to expire.

I read the message with dread, as I sensed the dark cloud already beginning to form. Knowing that this was a task I could not ignore, lest my computer become completely devoured by viruses, I followed the links. In so doing, I learned that I could “renew” my current subscription, but that my current version (2002) is considered a cyber-relic not worthy of ownership (and not “supported” – I loathe that word). Clearly what I needed was the souped-up 2005 version.

I noted that the “cloudette” was beginning to become a genuine cloud.

I followed all the links, provided all the requested information, choosing the “download” version. I printed all my confirmations, and now it was time to click the “download” button and watch the magic happen. I stared at it for a while, hoping against hope that everything would work out fine. I took the plunge.

“Click”

The download window appeared and, in short order, did nothing – zero, zilch. The damnable thing just sat there in freeze mode only to be followed by one of those really scary “error” windows. The instructions advised that I should feel free to try again (Thanks a bunch), which I did. I held my breath and again pushed the button that now mocked me by calling itself “Download.”

“Click”

NOTHING. Nothing, that is, but the same lifeless download window appeared, only to stare at me in hateful defiance and download nothing. Abso-farookin’-lutely NOTHING.

The cloud has now fully formed and is getting ugly.

Seeing as how I had just paid for “support” (Did I mention that I loathe that word?), I called the Customer Service number and was connected to a nice fellow with a Canadian accent. I explained the problem, and he had me look in my current files under “Norton.” I did that, and confirmed that the only Norton anti-virus software that is on my machine is the current version (i.e the one I’ve been using). Call me a smartass, but I believe that all that exercise accomplished was to confirm that the software I just bought and which I could not download was not on my machine. Gadzooks! Imagine that?

I stupidly thought that confirming a non-download would be the stepping-off point for solving my problem. However, the nice fellow said, “I’m afraid that there’s nothing I can do for you other than to change your order to the disc set, which you can install locally.” (I’m sure I’ve mentioned how much a truly loathe the word “support”). Feeling like I did in calculus class decades ago when I was too lost to even ask a question, I simply sighed and replied, “Sure.”

The ferocious dark cloud just emptied its contents on me.

My order was duly changed, and in three to five working days, I will receive a box via UPS containing the necessary disc and instructions.

At that time, the cloud will again form, I will speak again with a nice fellow for “support,” and I will end up with a computer that is a virus magnet.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about my call the other day to Comcast about my Television cable service. Right now, I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes.

First, a bit of background. I don’t think that Topdawg at Two Nervous Dogs was joshing when she said that she had purchased a TV zapper, which is a small device that can turn off any television with the push of a button. Even if she was kidding about that, I have fantasized about having such a device the next time I find myself in the waiting room of the car dealer having my brain numbed by daytime television.

Anyway, she has written a one-act play about using such a device in a physician’s waiting room. The title of the piece is “The Taming of the Tube.” Willy the S would be proud.

My friend Eric posted a story that involved the sudden appearances in Pennsylvania of a naked fellow wearing a mask and identifying himself as “Zorro.”

That triggered the amazing and largely inexplicable series of neuronal firings across millions of synapses reminded me of a brief encounter I had many years ago in the Greenwich Village Section of New York City.

I believe I was a college student (I told you it was many years ago) when I went with a buddy to one of the then-hip saloons in the Village. After drinking enough beer to require the “breaking of the seal,” I entered a one-urinal, one-stall men’s room. In such places, etiquette requires, and expediency suggests, that, if someone is using the urinal, the next person should use the stall.

Given that the stall was empty, I was surprised to hear another person enter the men’s room and take up a position directly behind me. I maintained the appropriate men’s room, urinal-using “forward stare,” but I was thinking, Doesn’t this asshole person know the rules? A foreigner perhaps?”

The person waited until I was just about zipped up when he tapped me on the back. (This is very, very, very bad form in a men’s room.) I turned around and hoped that it was not going to be necessary to go to “General Quarters.” Before me stood a tallish man, dressed like an Indian warrior, war paint and all. He wore one of those headbands over his long black hair (like Tonto). He was bare chested and wore only a loincloth (I assume he wore something underneath it, but I did not look) and moccasins. The best part is that he was holding a farookin’ tomahawk in his right hand!

Good thing for my pants that I had just finished pissing.

In a very calm and non-threatening voice he said, “Could you spare a dollar so I could buy myself a drink?” (One could actually buy some kind of drink for a buck in NYC back then.)

I wish I could report that I responded with a snappy comeback, or that I disarmed the renegade following a blazing display of deadly foot karate, but, remember, he was holding a tomahawk in his farookin’ hand. Instead, I simply said, “Sure,” and ponied up a buck.

He responded, “My liver thanks you,” and he walked out of the men’s room.

I got to thinking, “Hell, I gave the guy a buck and he didn’t even call me ‘Kemosabe’.”

Sluggo reviews Hecuba:

Ya gotta love it.

TigerHawk explains the basis for this phenomenon.

Here is a sample:

We Americans are quite used to being accused of human rights violations by every dirtbag — and every apologist for dirtbags — on the planet. Activist American leftists and their anti-American supporters abroad have been accusing America of atrocities at least since the mid-sixties. According to the left, the United States and its soldiers or agents were criminals by virtue of our dealings in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Chile, Cuba, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Israel, Iraq, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Angola, Somalia and Ethiopia (I’m sure that I’ve forgotten a few). We know that wherever we go, whatever we do, we will be committing human rights violations — at least according to international NGOs, the BBC, most European media, most American professors, most activists in the Democratic party, and most members of the United Nations. …

I will start caring what the world’s chattering classes think when they hold non-Americans — Africans, Arabs, and Chinese in particular — to the same standards. Until they do, I am forced to conclude that these critics of America are either racist to the core — they simply expect less of Africans, Arabs and Asians — or politically anti-American. There is no third explanation. Until then, therefore, I will support our military, knowing full well that the world has never seen a serious war without some violations of law, and that this war is almost certainly the cleanest counterinsurgency since the invention of counterinsurgency.

Read it all.

About six months ago, daughter TJ and I hatched a plan for a surprise birthday party for Mrs. Parkway. It required the logistics of the Normandy Invasion and was shrouded in as much secrecy. The ruse was that TJ was to be receiving an award from her alma mater, and we were invited to attend the presentation.

In the ensuing months, a restaurant and a menu were chosen, invitations were printed and sent out, favors were purchased, flowers were selected and ordered, music was arranged, and a host of other details were attended to. Fortunately, TJ, who is skilled at such things, did all the heavy lifting.

What also ensured that the event would be a surprise is that it was scheduled a bit more than a week before her actual birthday (which we will also celebrate, only on a much smaller scale).

The most amazing thing is that no one, not even the Usual Suspects with whom we spend so much time (often over cocktails when people tend to blab), spilled the beans. It was comical when a few times in the past weeks, because I am not very good at writing down dates, I was rather sternly reminded by Mrs. Parkway, “Don’t for get that we have TJ’s thing on the 18th.” I would feign minor indignation by saying, “Sheesh! All right already. I haven’t forgotten.” (ha!)

The timing was flawless. I had said that we would pull out of the driveway between 6:45 and 6:50. I checked my watch (as I had done a hundred times yesterday) and confirmed that the wheels were rolling at 6:47. I called TJ from the car, explaining to Mrs. Parkway, “I want to make sure that she is already there so we don’t walk into the room without knowing a soul.” Of course, that was the signal to get everyone in position and “shooshed.”

TJ met us outside the place so she “could escort us in and introduce us.” When we walked into the room, having positioned Mrs. Parkway in the front, instead of seeing a room full of people she didn’t know, she saw approximately 50 people, family and friends, who yelled “Surprise!” in perfect unison. I caught her when I felt her knees momentarily buckle. It was a classic moment.

TJ has written a recap of the event itself better than anything I could write today, what with the post-event exhaustion and the vodka-spawned bass drum that is beating inside my head at the moment.

Yep. Just like the Invasion of Normandy. It was a great success.

Oh, and Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. I know that I caught the brass ring in the Fatherhood Department. I had a wonderful father, and I have a wonderful daughter.

I will be headed to the theater tonight to see this. Frankly, I am more in the mood for, as the theater critics say, “a sidesplitting comedic tour de force,” but this clearly isn’t that.

The good news is that I rarely see a bad show at the Paper Mill Playhouse, and cocktails are sold in the lobby.

UPDATE: The show was excellent. With one simple set and virtually no props other than some chairs and a prop piano, the production money could be spent on a large and talented cast. The music and the vocal performances were great, particularly the ensemble numbers. There were even a few light moments and a laugh or two tucked into this otherwise serious storyline. Best of all, however, was the performance of Rachel York, who played the Mother. She has a beautiful voice that covers an amazing range, and she played hell out of the part.

My only criticism is that the first act was a tad too long (ninety minutes). Some people were hustling to the rest rooms during the intermission.

I recommend seeing it, but be sure to visit the rest room before the curtain goes up.