Now that Enron has been shunted off the front pages and left to squirm under Congressional microscopes, it's time to rethink how our judicial system can most effectively respond to white collar criminals who consciously--or through the convenience of willful ignorance-- inflict so much harm on so many.

Given a government whose tax, banking and regulatory codes are in no small measure authored by Fortune 500 operatives, it will be a miracle if the corporate perps don't all vanish like white rabbits down ready-made offshore loopholes. But if there's a shred of integrity left in our republic, eventually some of the key players will be found criminally liable, not merely guilty of reprehensible business practices. And when that time comes, we need be as creative with our punishment as they were with their accounting practices.

While the nation waits for the Justice Department to cough up indictments and the SEC to grow teeth, it's safe to say that, over the past few months, outrage has been the preponderant response to every new revelation of evidence shredding, debt concealing, energy supply manipulating and political favor dispensing in the epic spectacle that was Enron. But before we scream off with their heads, it's worth considering that most people who do evil things are not inherently evil: they are sick

And greed is but one manifestation of the disease we understand as addiction. Anyone who devotes their life to the maniacal pursuit of profit uber alles- irrespective of who gets mangled in their wake-is psychologically impaired, to say the least. You cannot cripple the financial lives and futures of people who placed their trust in you without having abandoned your own moral center (presuming you had one to begin with).

Should you doubt the perversity of their intentions, recall that these were the same men who named their shell corporations Raptor (homage to a bird of prey or "one who seizes by force"; tellingly, the root of the word is rape), and Condor, a type of vulture, "a person or thing that preys greedily or unscrupulously." And, in the case of Enron, that creature did not feast on carrion, but on the still-pulsating viscera of its employees and shareholders-a more than symbolic act of cannibalism.

Seen in this light, Enron's corporate malefactors can rightly be viewed as wealth-and-power addicts who need help just as desperately as any stark raving crackhead.

This is not for a moment to suggest that the Enron-Anderson cabal escape jail time. On the contrary. Much as judges remand drunk drivers to AA, so, too, should the prison sentences of felonious executives include mandatory participation in an applicable 12-step program such as Debtors Anonymous. With the support of fellow addicts, they would learn that insatiable greed usually masks core insecurity and scarcity issues. Left untreated, these psychic wounds can lead to the moral anorexia that characterizes a life of corporate crime. Fortunately, given enough years practicing spiritual surrender and humble self-scrutiny, most people can been restored to reason and eventually return to polite society to serve some useful purpose.

Essential to this transformation is the making of amends to those that the addict has harmed: economic restitution for the human casualties is the obvious first step. In the case of Enron, there are enough injured parties to constitute numerous class-action lawsuits. And while I fully support the vigorous prosecution of these claims, and the recouping of as many pension funds and severance packages as possible, we can do more to vaccinate society against the spread of Enronitis.

White-collar criminals who ravage millions of lives at the stroke of an accounting pencil need to face their victims, listen to their stories and yes, feel their pain. Picture a prison, somewhere in Texas, its visiting area overflowing with former Enron employees and their families anticipating a good long talk with Messrs. Lay, Fastow and Skilling. Perhaps these sessions could be televised so all the world might bear witness to the consequences of executive hubris.

Which naturally invites us to move up the food chain and bring justice-and, ultimately, one hopes, healing-to those who drank deep at the beast's tainted trough: our Senators, regulators, and the squatters in the White House. Truth is: whether it's cocaine trafficking, insider trading or influence peddling, criminal behavior is an outgrowth of some form of psychopathology that begs for treatment just as fiercely as it demands jail time. And in a just world-the world we must now create-no one would be able to buy their way out of either.

San Francisco Chronicle 3/17/02

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So now its official: after summarily debating the President's proposed budget and tax cut, the Senate made like a good doggie and dutifully delivered 54 well-fed and manicured thumbs-up onto the doorstep of young Master Bush. But before we lay back and enjoy the pillaging of our national coffers, I want to make sure that we're clear on how this coup came to pass.

Apparently, one day on the campaign trail, then-candidate Bush woke up, rubbed his sleepy eyes and took a good, hard look around. He was shocked-shocked!-to find a looming energy crisis, faltering New Economy, school yard massacres, homeless people, ominous signs of global warming and a seemingly endless parade of ills afflicting this great land that The Family deemed would soon be his. Then he cogitated for the full length of his attention span and, when the second hand was on the 12 again, he slapped his palm against his forehead and exclaimed: "Well heck sake, the problem with America is that rich people just don't have enough money!" And thus the tax cut was born.

Clearly, the man is a genius.

The wisdom of the Bush vision came to me with the speed of the Nasdaq free-fall the moment I saw Dennis Tito strapping into the Russian space capsule. Gosh, I realized, there are probably gobs of other millionaires who can't afford this basic wealthy person's right--corporate titans who as children yearned to be the next John Glenn, but instead of following their bliss spent their lives in service to God and Country: building fortunes on the backs of happy, toiling wage-slaves.

You see, the rich are different from you and me: they have Presidents and Senators to look out for them. So naturally Bush wants 45% of that $1.35 trillion distributed to the wealthiest 1% of Americans. This is as it should be. Since most Americans are not clever or disciplined enough to manage their own money, it's up to the rich to serve as wise stewards of our collective fortune by trickling down upon us no more than our little ole brains can handle.

God also intended that the rich act as inspiration for bottom-dwellers. In their Armani's and limos, and yes, now in outer space, the rich show us what it's possible to achieve with a firm commitment to putting profits before people, the environment, and any hope for a livable future.

At a press conference a couple of days after the Senate vote, the President was asked how he planned to help consumers cope with spiraling energy costs. Mr. Bush pooh-poohed long-range, systemic approaches and instead crowed that his tax cut would put "money in their pockets to deal with high energy prices." Touche´ King George! And I'm sure it goes without saying that people who are too poor to pay taxes (and hence won't benefit from tax relief) can jolly well downsize themselves into curbside cardboard boxes where they won't have to worry about energy bills at all!

Well, before my dim bulb got a compassionate conservative re-education, I had this silly idea. I thought, what if we took that whole proposed tax grab-- I mean cut--and shared it with everyone equally, say, by investing in solar power. I did a little research and it turns out that $1.35 trillion worth of installed solar power would generate one-half of all our home electricity needs. Indefinitely. It seemed like a good idea at first; then I looked up into the night sky, considered what was orbiting the big picture, and came to my senses.

When it comes down to a choice between cheap, clean, renewable energy for the masses or joy rides in space for deprived millionaires, Mr. President, you've got my vote, too.

Oh, and thanks, Dennis, for helping us understand why this tax cut "just right."

This essay appeared in the Northern California Bohemian May 17, 2001

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So, executives at CocaCola stuck their clammy corporate finger in the wind and discovered a storm of hostile public opinion blowing their way. Parents and educators having at last woken up to the folly of allowing the unfettered infusion of junk food into the tender, impressionable (and burgeoning) bodies of our youth. By way of response, the soft drink colossus will no longer demand exclusivity contracts of schools that carry its vending machines. Alas, the damage has already been done and is, I fear, irreversible.

As a substitute teacher in the San Francisco public schools, I'm here to report on casualties in the Cola War from ground zero. I generally work the high-schools-and it is a truly scary world, folks. At first, I used to wonder if I was in the middle of a psych ward or war zone or some hormone-tweaked hybrid. I considered it a good day if I didn't have to call for help from the security guards, and often quipped that subs should get hazard pay. In light of the now-chronic epidemic of school shootings, that joke's not so funny anymore.

So the other day, I got an education as to the nature of the beast. Or rather, how the beast is bio-chemically manipulated at feeding time in a most unsavory manner. I was subbing at my neighborhood high school, one where the kids get a 10 minute " nutrition break " at 9:50 in the morning. This is surely an idea that meant well. It inserts a dash of psychic punctuation between geometry and language arts, affords students the opportunity to discharge restless energy.

After the break, the kids start filing back into class with their trays of " nutrition." I was expecting maybe apples, carrot sticks, perchance a yogurt. Silly me! Overflowing the little paper trays are deep fried, salt encrusted, no doubt genetically engineered tortilla chips drowning in a cauldron of hunter -orange CheezeWhiz. This coronary minefield is savagely chewed and washed down with the definitive nutritional anti-Christ, CocaCola. People, if this is nutrition then I'm George Orwell beholding the Peacekeeper missile of the American teenage diet.

Or maybe this dietary one-two punch can be more accurately compared to the military's cursed bird of prey, the Osprey. As soon as the ersatz fuel is injected into the youngster's bloodstream he is launched with the force and intensity of a rocket. The surge dissipates rapidly sending him sputtering along the horizon until he plummets back to Classroom Earth in the inevitable crash and burn landing. Few brain cells are left unscathed.

I used to wonder why so many kids were nodding out over their desks like junkies. Now I know. Every one of them is coming down off a refined carbohydrate rush--after an hour so of ricocheting around the classroom like the contents of an old fashioned pinball machine. I worry about these kids, their vitamin deficiencies, obesity, blood sugar levels and attention spans. I worry about America, for in their junk-food addled brains lies our future.

Oh, we can blame parents for not educating their children's palates as to the joys of broccoli and soymilk. Or we can blame our legislators for allowing then-governor Reagan to declare ketchup a vegetable, thus opening the door to all manner of nutritional larceny. And we should certainly blame ourselves for Proposition 13 which left the schools little choice but to sell corporations safe-passage into the bodies and minds of our children-in exchange for book money.

President Bush can worry all he wants about North Korea. But don't think a missile defense system is going to save us. It's too late. The River Coke still flows untrammeled through the hallways of our schools, with or without an exclusivity contract. I have seen the enemy of America's future and it is carbonating our intestines and congealing on our plates.

This essay appeared in the San Francisco Examiner on Wednesday, March 28, 2001

and the Northern California Bohemian, April 19, 2001
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I don't know how many homeless people there are in San Francisco. Urban nomads herding their salvage-laden shopping carts around the city in the Sisyphean search for better grazing. They roam through streets that are for so many others a new Silk Route to the dull glitter of Silicon Valley chips. The closest our homeless get to glitter are spent, spit-soaked aluminum cans gleaned from gutters and trash bins. They rattle and spill from liberated shopping carts that the Mayor wants returned to the good people in Safeway buying food, half of which winds up bloating our landfills, bellies and brains.

No, I don't know how many there are but they seem to be everywhere, industriously hustling on busy boulevards and intersections throughout the city. Some are wiping windshields, some guiding people in and out of parking spaces. But most are quietly panhandling for hours on end, stationed on medians, breathing all those hydrocarbons, being assaulted by the unceasing racket of city traffic and, more often than not, being ignored by people in cars who have their own homes and money and food. People who have enough excess to fill countless shopping carts, but they don't. I don't either. I'm one of the full and fat who usually drives on, who tries not to make eye contact when I'm in the car closest to them at a stoplight.

But the other day, I had a different response. Here was a man standing tall at the intersection of Park Presidio and Clement at 8 o clock on a Saturday morning. He had the requisite cardboard placard, the one that usually conveys some variation of "will work for food" or "disabled vet need your help." Nothing so obvious here, his cryptic sign contained only this: a question mark . . . in quotes. Intrigued, this time I did make eye contact as I waited at the red light. The man turned to me and nodded. He was older, maybe 60, and slender, dressed in a faded cammo jacket and jeans. Looking at him I gestured-tracing the question mark symbol in the air. He responded energetically: "Are ya thankful?" "You betcha," I said, "are you?" A magnificent smile illuminated his face. Then he bowed, Zen-like, and turned to face all the other drivers barreling towards the Golden Gate Bridge. To each one he offered an invitation to ask a different question, to think a fresh thought, to wonder about a man standing in the middle of the road wanting nothing but our curiosity, and engaging us that we might, for a moment, meditate on gratitude.

Who was this man? Was he homeless? Or did he have a three-car garage, a pension and a passion to communicate his message to as many people as he could? He reminded me of a fellow I used to drive past in a residential Berkeley neighborhood many years ago. He'd stand on the same corner every morning with an oversized cheery yellow Styrofoam hand waving at everyone as they drove to work or school or the liquor store, just waving and smiling, every morning. I'm pretty sure he wasn't homeless, just a happy guy who wanted to spread his joy around like butter on your morning toast.

Perhaps the Thankful Man is such a being as well. Or maybe he's been living on the street for years. I wanted so much to know his story. I wanted to stand out there on the median with him, talk to him, find out who he was. But the light turned green and that was that. Or so I thought.

For several days after our encounter, I found myself in a subtly altered state. The Thankful Man had touched a tender place in me. Just the sight of the Bay as I crested Franklin Street was enough to make me cry at the unfathomable beauty of a familiar sight I'd come to take for granted. It was as if my eyes were washed clean of cynicism. I wanted to thank the Thankful Man, but I haven't seen him since that day. So I guess I'll have to keep on driving up and down Park Presidio for as long as it takes, with a prayer on my lips and a question mark on my mind.

SF Examiner 12/28/00

Turns out the waving man was famous! Thanks to a reader for this link to the Waving Man's New York Times obituary

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After several decades characterized by collective somnambulence at best, and unrepentant self-serving gluttony at worst, Americans have begun to wake up to some very ugly truths. Everything from our basic civil liberties to the climates we have come to expect and the safety of the food we eat is imperiled. By way of response, the direct action against the WTO in Seattle ushered in a new era of activism, and with it a commitment to challenging the unsavory practices of multinational corporations, governmental bodies and other institutions that wield power over our lives. The pulse of America's conscience is surging and I am not alone in feeling tingly with hope for the first time in years.

At the same time I am disturbed by the tactics of some of today's activists. Fortunately, whether we're talking about animal rights, saving redwoods, or stopping sweatshop labor, the overwhelming majority of activists is committed to nonviolent action. As a pacifist and a realist I applaud this path and walk it myself. My concern is with those whose approach includes smashing storefronts, setting fires and throwing rocks at police. Equally disturbing are environmentalists who spike trees, endangering the lives of loggers and mill-workers, AIDS activists who disrupt civic meetings and hurl fake blood at pharmaceutical company executives, and animal liberationists who torch labs and threaten researchers with booby-trapped letters. I certainly share in the outrage of anyone who has seen a clear-cut forest, watched an animal suffer or a friend die because he couldn't afford medication.

But how can we expect anyone else to stop committing acts of personal or institutional violence if we ourselves cannot?

Many sincere, committed activists are convinced that violence is justified in the service of the greater good. To such people I say: You cannot do this alone. To make the changes this country so desperately needs, you must have at least the tacit support of the majority of Americans--which you'll never get by dishing up mayhem on the evening news.

Violent tactics serve to alienate the very people whom the activists are trying to convince, while simultaneously deflecting attention from their own message. Instead of seeing the horror of monkeys subjected to electroshock, the public becomes focused on an arson blaze that could have killed someone they love.

Violence is counterproductive and symptomatic of old paradigm thinking that we need outgrow. When we act from a place of rage and hate-however "justified"- we will only generate like energy in return. Instead we ought turn, for example, to South Africa as a model for compassionate change coming from a people who chose reconciliation over retribution despite centuries of the most heinous subjugation. Activists in the US must exhibit this level of courage and maturity if we are to have any hope for a livable future.

At the same time it behooves us to remember one thing about those whose policies poison ground water, withhold cures, criminalize entire classes of people, play Russian Roulette with our genetic inheritance, and force people to work at less than subsistence wages: people who inflict such harm are asleep to their own humanity, and oblivious to that of others. People who make power or profits their God are not so much evil as they are profoundly and dangerously ill. And just as we don't get an alcoholic sober by beating him over the head with a whiskey bottle, so too will we fail to awaken the hearts of government and industry leaders by attacking them.

Instead, by engaging in peaceful demonstrations, ballot initiatives, informational picket lines, class-action lawsuits, consumer boycotts, letter-writing campaigns, and good old fashioned voting, we raise public awareness about the ways in which the Nikes and Weyerhausers, Roches and PG&Es enslave individual workers, cripple entire communities and decimate eco-systems. We raise awareness about effective alternatives to animal testing; the number of jobs the US lost to NAFTA; inhumane working conditions in factories where our athletic shoes are made; the dangers of unleashing genetically engineered crops without adequate research into the ramifications; the incalculable value of medicinal plants in rainforests being wiped out in favor of grazing cattle for ever more MacBurgers. By raising awareness and thoughtful engagement, we open a public dialog.

Spiking a tree is a statement. Statement is monologue. You cannot debate a spike, have a discussion with a rock, or dialog with a Molitov cocktail. Communication, not escalation, is the key. And if we think "the enemy" is cruel and inhumane, then we must strive ever harder to model the sort of behavior we wish to see in others. We will soften the hard among us and inspire the soft by taking the moral high-ground, summoning the wisdom, righteousness and efficacy of the Ghandis and Kings, the Mandelas and Aung San Suu Kyis of the world. And most especially, let us learn from "ordinary people" like Rosa Parks and Erin Brokovich just how powerful individuals can be.

It is through nonviolent direct action that we demand-and are beginning to effect-change. For though they are the beholden to no one, the corollary and hope rests in the fact that governments and corporations are beholden to everyone. And therein lies the rub. Activists who resort to violent tactics do so in part as a reaction to the passivity of a silent majority that can't find a reason to vote, much less save the spotted owl. By the same token, when nearly 50% of the electorate don't bother to vote, is it any wonder that people in power think that either we don't care or are perfectly happy with the way things are? They will not pay attention-and how can we expect them to?­unless and until they hear the rest of us speak up en masse.

In a society spoiled by instant gratification, we are unaccustomed to efforts that take time and discipline. Ironically-as befits a path of spiritual growth-nonviolent change is usually incremental and as such can be maddeningly slow. Be patient. For the alternative-fighting fire with fire-will only succeed in burning us all.

Now go out and vote your conscience. Vote as if your life depended on it. Because, my friend, it does.

SF Chronicle 10/22/00

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I am a registered Democrat. And I'm not proud. For over twenty years I've resigned myself to casting ballots for a predictable parade of ever less palatable rich white men whose party line with every subsequent election more closely resembles that of their Republican counterparts. True, as a radical pacifist eco-feminist, my politics lie slightly to the left of the Democratic Party's; ours is a joyless marriage of convenience that has never been consummated. But I vote Democrat for the same reason millions of other disgruntled lefties do: because the Republicans are even worse. And we all know that the Greens don't have a snowball's chance in a DC summer of getting elected, and a vote for Nader is a vote for Bush, blah, blah, blah. Friends, when are we all going to stand up and refuse to vote for the lesser of two weasels?

Oh, I've heard all the arguments. And certainly, the prospect of another Bush presidency is more chilling than one with Gore at the helm. But there's a saying I learned in my spiritual practice that is as applicable to personal growth as it is to politics: if you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always gotten. And what we've gotten is increasingly rotten. The New Economy is a waxy red pesticide-saturated, monoculture bred, genetically engineered, slave wage labor harvested apple whose core is teeming with sightless corporate worms industriously gnawing away at the very seeds of our future. Anyone who sinks their teeth past the brittle surface of Clinton's gleaming statistics will discover how little meat there actually is before encountering the verminous center.

While it is true that the economy is in many ways booming, and that the United States is wallowing in an unprecedented amount of money, its concentration in the hands of the few at the top has never been greater: the wealth of the top 1% of US households exceeds the combined wealth of the bottom 95%. Under Clinton-Gore the upward redistribution of income begun in the Reagan years has continued unabated. Adjusted for inflation, the majority of US workers are actually making LESS now than we did in 1973. Has anyone noticed that the number of homeless people on the streets of our major cities has increased in direct proportion to the rise in the stock market? It's no coincidence: the rich get another mansion and more stocks, the poor get an eviction notice and a cardboard box. In 1980, entry level folks working for large companies earned $1 for every $40 their CEO took home. Now the ratio is $1 to $415! This goes far to explain why 30 years ago it was possible for an average middle-class breadwinner to own a nice home, have a savings account, and support a family of six with ease. Try that trick in the New Economy mecca that is today's Bay Area. It doesn't take a Marxist economist to figure out that there is something very wrong with this picture. In Y2K Mom and Dad both have to work harder and longer just to stay afloat--in a sea of debt at that. Not to mention the commute: gridlock and road rage blithely abetted by politicians on both sides of the aisle nestled in the pockets of Big Oil and Big Auto. When was the last time you heard a peep about public transportation from anybody in the White House?

And don't even talk to me about the military. You'd think that President Reagan's epic boondoggle, I mean Star Wars program, would have died a quiet death and been laid to rest alongside the rusty hammer and sickle. Silly you! Here it is resurrected by Clinton-Gore-still demonstrably unworkable, now vigorously opposed by a majority of scientists worldwide, and less necessary than ever. Not only are we the biggest kid in the sandbox--we're the only one! The other kids having been beaten, bullied or bought off and left cowering on the teeter-totter. North Korea--a threat? Please!

Meanwhile, that same Democratic administration came up with the, shall we say, imaginative "don't ask, don't tell" policy on gays in the military. This may be a kinder, gentler approach than we'd get from the GOP but it still spells "stay in the closet where you belong " with the same conviction as another famous Republican learnt us about "potatoe." Another bold stand for civil rights from the Party that once championed the rights of African-Americans at a time when many other Americans still thought "separate but equal" was a mighty charitable answer to race relations.

And then we have the inelegant spectacle of Gore trying to out-Rambo Bush during his acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention, crowing the about his support for the Gulf War-an atavistic exercise in jingoism and oil-motivated bloodbath that resulted in strengthening Saddam's grip on power. Imagine instead a world where preventive diplomacy and negotiation are not the bastard stepchildren of our foreign policy arsenal. Meantime, go ahead and vote Democrat--it's a vision thing.

The Democratic leadership proved the depths of their wholesale sellout to their corporate backers by rewarding them with NAFTA and the WTO---two of the most insidious assaults ever perpetrated on working people in this country and abroad. The corrosive policies of these trade organizations have managed to institutionalize wage-deflation and egregious working conditions by allowing corporations to treat workers as pawns in their zeal to find the cheapest labor on the planet.

And Gore's much lauded environmentalism? NAFTA and WTO treaties bind all nations to the standards of the lowest common denominator, gravely compromising our hard-won protections of air and water quality, endangered species and more. At the same time, Clinton-Gore opened a Pandora's Box of unknowable proportions by allowing the unfettered proliferation of genetically engineered crops without prior due scientific process. Gore the man may well love the environment, but Gore the politician is beholden to those who have paid his way to the top. Now it's Gore who's telling us to read his lips--and ignore his actions.

On other issues, Gore apparently has no shame marching down roads paved by decades of conservative vitriol and righteousness as he and Lieberman stump for government "intervention" in the entertainment industry. Censorship, by any other euphemism, still smells as foul as the mutilated body of our political and artistic rights to freedom of expression. If the Democratic Party's ship of state lurches any further to the right we may as well call it the USS Limbaugh. And pray for an iceberg.

Gore declares that he is his own man. His sexual practices may well be more discreet than Clinton's, but the major corporations are not impressed by any substantive difference between Gore and Bush. They give lavishly to both campaigns knowing that whoever wins they'll have a seat at the table shaking those well-greased palms. Democracy in the United States is a pitiful charade and Americans know it. Ask the tens of millions who don't even bother to vote; they know what we're pledging allegiance to (in our Nike and Gap branded uniforms) is a de facto Corporatocracy.

There is only one candidate with the courage to stand up to the corporate Goliath. And Ralph Nader 's been doing it successfully for over 30 years. While Gore and Bush flap their gums about campaign finance reform, Nader is the only one walking the walk by refusing corporate hush money : he accepts contributions from individuals only. Renowned as a man of integrity, he has more than proven his leadership abilities as well. He's built a social movement from the unrequited yearnings of a people trampled by those entrusted to public service. With grass roots support Nader succeeded in making government more accountable to its citizenry-and helped structure the institutions required to implement change. Today we have Nader and his dedicated raiders to thank for environmental protections, better citizen access to government, and cars that are a lot safer than they would be if it were up to the big boys in Detroit.

Nader has a many other visions that I and most Americans would love to support: developing renewable energy, waging peace, strengthening labor laws and ending taxpayer subsidies to corporations who turn around and gouge us as if it were their God-given mandate. Come November, we will have the opportunity to vote into office the only candidate with an impeccable record of supporting the best interests of the majority of the people in this nation, one who is willing to tell us the truth. Is anyone but Nader talking about the decline in real wages, the escalation of child poverty, environmental racism, the implications of the fact that consumer debt is higher than ever? We're not getting the news because the media ARE the very corporations whose truth begs concealing. In yet another ominous legacy of the merger-manic Clinton-Gore years, the majority of our mediated information is now filtered through a mere six corporate lenses. No wonder their world looks so rosy.

Perhaps the biggest bugaboo that keeps otherwise sane people voting for Democrats is the terror of leaving young Bush in charge of Supreme Court appointments, particularly, they argue, with Roe v Wade hanging in the balance. For you worrywarts I have two words: Harry Blackmun. He being the Nixon appointee who wrote the majority opinion for that landmark case. The point is that there are no guarantees that any nominee is going to wind up doing the policy bidding of his or her President.

So consider your vote with this Big Picture thought in mind: Metaphysics is the invisible matrix that undergirds our physical reality. And from a metaphysical perspective, if you act-and by extension vote-from a place of fear, then you live in and help to perpetuate that fear. Each ballot cast for the lesser of two weasels is a twig in the fire, every long winded excuse another breath feeding the bellows, enlarging the flames that threaten to engulf us entirely.

But we don't have to live in fear any more. We have a choice. We can and we must vote from a genuine sense of felt passion and hope, vote for someone we believe in, someone who shares our vision for the future of our country, our earth, our very humanity. Can Ralph Nader win? If everyone who believes in the principles he both serves and embodies-default Democrats, floundering Republicans and the disenfranchised masses- if we all vote for Nader, he will win.

The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream that some day all men would be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin. I have a dream that some day we will all cast our ballots for the person we know to be the best candidate--not merely in the one likely to defeat our worst fears. If not now, when?