The Sacrifices We Make

Yellowed newspapers sit on a shelf
Just below the shelf holding fresh ones;
Both go untouched
By me and all others.

What do I care about
What some journalist
Convinced his editor was important?
Or was it the editor
Who convinced the journalist?

I confess I'm too harsh;
Both are trying to make it in this world,
Trying like the rest of us,
Trying to do something they love
And get paid for it.

But modern journalism begs the question,
How many worthless stories are worth
The opportunity to write one good one?
How much space between good can we handle?
Is one good one a year sufficient
To prevent a soul's deflation?
Perhaps one every six months is enough
To keep the mind from rotting?
And what if it's not?
What happens to our newsmen then?

The Nature of Human Equality, part 2

Does every human life have value?

Even the Assholes?
Even the Criminally Insane?
Even the Gays?
Even the Christians?

Does every human life have value?

Even the Congolese?
Even the Ones with no resources that are of use to you?
Even the Whites?
Even the Less Intelligent?
Even the Fascists or the Anarchists or the Indifferent?

Does every human life have value?

Even the humble and meek and bewildered.  Even the drunken, the angry, the ignorant, the violent, the foolhardy, and the selfish.  Even the loved, the grateful, the trustworthy, the faithful, the loyal, and the peaceful.  Even the black, white, yellow, brown, red, green, and orange.  Even those paralyzed by fear.  Both those who read this and find it beautiful as well as those who consider it unnecessary drivel.  Even your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  Even the blissfully happy, the mortally depressed, the obsessively compulsive, the pedantically infuriating, the monotonously dull, and the unfailingly kind.  Even those long since dead whose memory goes on-- the George Washingtons, the Albert Einsteins, the Genghis Kahns, the grandparents, the parents, the children, the friends and enemies we grew up with.  Even the holy ones who are not real to some and yet are everything to others: Jesus Christ, Muhammad, Buddha, and every version of every god ever conceived or misconceived.  Even those characters that were never real, though this didn't stop them from touching our souls-- the Holden Caulfields, the Tyler Durdens, the Harry Potters, the Three Little Pigs, and the Ebenezer Scrooges.  Not only every single person you know or have ever met but also all the people important to them and even those neither you nor they have met or will ever meet whose well-being might just depend on your service to the common good.  Even those who haven't been born yet.  Even  those who might exist way out on some undiscovered planet.  Even that annoying person who won't stop texting during the movie or the person who's coughing up a storm throughout the performance.  Even the next door neighbor who hides from you behind a six foot fence.  Turn and look to your left, then your right.  Even those people.  Even me.  Even you.

The Nature of Human Equality, part 1