While the VA Blog Carnival is a “hot topic” this week, I think it’s a good opportunity to address some of the  strengths and shortcomings of the original one.  Did you know the VBC was originally crafted NOT to increase hits and not to push political agendas, but to serve as a “slice of life in Virginia?”

Many weeks I didn’t submit because I hadn’t written anything political.  I just recently learned that political blogs WEREN’T a requirement.  Nope - it’s for posts about life, quilts, cancer, politics, preserves, baseball, kids . . . anything related to life in our commonwealth.  It’s a place for readers outside of our state boundaries to come read about us.  For this reason, I think it’s paramount to “put our best blogging feet forward.”  People can read about bickering political factions in their own state, they won’t visit our Carnival.

Thomas Krehbiel is right:

“I don’t submit to blog carnivals because I realize it’s a lot of work to host them and I’m too lazy to get involved in that. And I generally don’t link to things unless I’m referring to it in my post.”

The Carnival IS a lot of work so I think the steps we take now will produce a better product in the long run. It IS difficult to know how and when and to whom to submit our entries.  Unless I get an e-mail from the host/hostess asking for a submission, it often slips my mind.

We need a centralized site for the carnival - one with a calendar and ONE “holding tank” for submitted blogs.

Full disclosure: I am a “newbie Blogger.”  I helped Emeril host a Carnival in June of ‘06 and it was a lot of fun, despite storms knocking us off the internet and being three days late posting it.  I offered to host the Carnival this week (thus causing my cable internet to leave me for a day and a half) but SWAC Girl is graciously the hostess instead.  I THINK I’m hosting next week.  If so, please send your submissions to me at: badrose@mac.com  (please put VBC in the subject line of your e-mail!)

I hope that the Virginia Blog Carnival will “live long and prosper” and that we can continue to show the world that despite our differences, Virginia is the best place to live.  If there is anything I can do to help see this happen, I’m down.  Even if it means sacrificing my internet connection from time to time.

Not when there’s a carnival in town! Go on over to Ward’s place and get in the Mardi Gras spirit.

Great job herding the cats this week, Ward!

MICKEY POWELL has written a piece in today’s Martinsville Bulletin about the amount of money that Martinsville may end up having to repay the Virginia Economic Development Partnership as the result of MZM, Inc. failing to meet 57% of its performance agreement.  Mickey’s article is seventeen paragraphs long, gives an in-depth look at how and why the moneys were appropriated and allocated and DOESN’T MENTION VIRGIL GOODE’S NAME ONCE.  Not once.  There is no mention of blaming Virgil or the suggestion that Virgil belongs in jail or speculation of wrongdoing.  For those “facts” you’ll need to read Waldo’s speculative blogs on the subject, as well as his far from polite comment section.

Nope, none - no mention of Virgil anywhere.  The General Counsel for the VEDP, John Sternlicht, however, did reiterate the fact that the city strongly desired the high-paying jobs that MZM/Athena offered and he stated the obvious, “I don’t think either the city or the state could ultimately have foreseen” the closing of the Clearview (Martinsville) facility.  I’ll take it a step further, I don’t think ANYONE, Virgil Goode included, could have foreseen how this deal would eventually go South or that some of the parties involved in the deal would go to jail.

I was a guest of the “MZM crowd” under their corporate tent at the Foxfield Races in the spring of 2005.  I met Mitch Wade and the others.  None of them looked or acted any differently than the bloggers I met at the Martinsville Blog Conference.  I would’ve felt completely comfortable accepting money from them, if only they had offered.  When Virgil learned that the money his campaign had accepted might be dirty, he donated it to worthy charities.  I believe at least one of those charities was an animal rescue group.  Only in WaldoWorld would this be seen as an admission of guilt.

Today’s Bulletin article is just the latest in a long string of articles covering the MZM/Virgil story.  For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Martinsville Bulletin, it is a family owned and operated newspaper as opposed to a corporate one such as Media General owned Richmond Times-Dispatch.  As such, the family that owns the Bulletin has control over the content.  Have I already mentioned that the family that owns the Bulletin is of the staunchly Democrat(ic) variety?  They are.  I know this because I’ve also partied (I was honored to hostess a Christmas party and a cookout for them at my home) with the Bulletin staff members and consider them to be friends of mine.  It can also be easily verified by seeing the names of the candidates to whom they contribute and endorse, the name and purpose of their charitable trust or just read their paper.  I’m not criticizing them by any means - if I owned a newspaper you better believe I’d use it to further my agenda.  I only mention the politics of the Bulletin to further establish my point that if there was dirt on Virgil, I know the Bulletin would be giddy at the prospect of reporting it.  My guess is that it would merit their largest headline yet!

From the comments over at WaldoWorld: (THIS one is polite)

Bubby  02/02/2007 3:03 pm #

I am familiar with the illegal contributions that Goode received. He was/is hanging by a thread for receiving those contributions and the reasonable assumption that they were in payment for his lobbying and committee votes. It ain’t over yet. In the drama of the Corrupt 109th Congress - Goode played a supporting role.

Goode’s constituents are faced with a question; is he stupid, is he a crook, or is he a little of both.

I am one of his constituents and my answer is “neither.” By this Bubby “logic,” I have to ask, is the Martinsville Bulletin, Roanoke Times, the federal investigators, Vanity Fair magazine or hundreds of others who have investigated this matter, are they all crooks?  Are they all stupid?  Both?

Virgil Goode might possibly be the cleanest member we have representing us in Congress.  Who else has withstood this level of scrutiny?  If he’s guilty of anything, then it’s a guilt shared by a great many of us who saw MZM as a much needed opportunity for this area.  An opportunity to fill a vacant shell building, to create jobs and most importantly, as leverage to lure other security/technology businesses to locate here.  The deals that were made to make this opportunity possible may seem out of the ordinary at first glance, although it was a good example of a collaborative effort between federal, state and local government and the private sector.  Just too bad that the private sector entity involved was crooked.

Let’s put the deal into perspective:  Recently it was announced that land near the town of Lenoir, NC had been chosen by Google as the site of its newest Web server farm facility.  This Google farm is projected to employ about 200 people.  What did North Carolina offer Google to land the “deal?”  One hundred and fifty acres, thirty years with no real estate taxes (which amounts to more than $100 million) PLUS a grant of $4.7 million.  In short, North Carolina is paying about $500,000 per job!

Does it sound like extortion or other mafia-type techniques were used in this NC deal?  This AP article pretty much says so.  Why did the lawmakers agree to these terms?  And then admit it?  Is the purpose of luring companies to our area lost in the competition with other localities?

Even without the benefit of this new perspective, I think the benefits of having MZM come to Martinsville in the first place far outweighed the risk.

GO HERE . . .

The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love is aptly used to describe the Peace Corps.  The majority of mothers would argue that it more aptly applies to motherhood.  Like the Peace Corps, part of our mission is to promote peace and friendliness.  An increasingly difficult task in an increasingly less peaceful and less friendly world.  Though I realize this is a lifelong endeavor - and I will never shout, “Mission accomplished!” it’s a mission I accept.

The first leg of the journey to peace is through communication and communication begins with words.  I’ll disclose my bias upfront and right now.  I love words.  Almost all words and some more than others.  I probably spend too much time wondering about certain words and their intent versus their impact.  For example, I spent over an hour last Saturday pondering the word, satire. Someone used that word to describe the post I wrote about my grandmother and Senator Allen.  It made me feel uneasy and I hoped that wasn’t the intent of the writer.  I did find a descriptive use of the word, satire, that made me feel more comfortable, although I would’ve felt better with the word irony.

Maybe a love of words is genetic but I haven’t taken any chances.  I started reading aloud to my babies as soon as the “+” showed up on the pregnancy test and I haven’t stopped.  This small investment, deposited into their accounts as babies, earns daily dividends and is guaranteed to provide for them well past their retirement.  Now, at ages seven and eight, they love books, reading and learning.

I have not tried to instill a love of certain words while instilling disdain for others.  I don’t see this as part of my job description.  Parenting is tough enough without rubber stamping “mom approved” on each word of their ever-growing vocabulary.

Carefully choosing battles is paramount in parenting.  I have narrowed them down to three “biggies.”

1. Be Honest.

2. Be Kind.

3. Be Responsible.

This strategy has worked great as most any infraction can be traced back to ignoring one of these rules, but what about foul language?

First of all, I don’t like the term foul language.  Any language that leads to a respectful dialogue and a free-flowing exchange of ideas can’t be foul.  My dad didn’t subscribe to this philosophy.  He perceived any brand of “cussing” by a child to be a sign of disrespect.  I remember at least once he dealt with my newly discovered affection for the word, goddammit by putting a bar of soap in my mouth.  He called it discipline. I called it  humiliating and I don’t recommend it.  From my own experience, the children reared in “zero-tolerance” homes later blossomed into some of the all-time great potty-mouths, myself included.  Of course, having children has tempered my use of “colorful” language but let’s face it: SOMETIMES (like when you’re in a hurry and you don’t realize your child left their car door open until AFTER you start backing out of the garage) “OH SUGAR!” doesn’t fit the bill.  Obviously, there is a time and a place for all language.  But what about the word nigger?  Is there ever a time and a place?  Does  this word have too much power?  It’s become “the word that shall not be named” in our vocabulary.  One that is whispered even when we literally say “the ‘n’ word?”  Or does it not have enough power?  Should it be considered a hate crime to call someone this?  Should people be forced to wear a scarlet “N” on their chests for saying it in the past?  Can we rise above it?  If we ignore it, will it go away?  When, if ever, have you used this word?  How old were you when you first heard it?  What did you think it meant?  Where did you live when you heard it?  Should using this word in the past be a required litmus test of sorts for potential political candidates?  If so, are we all willing to go through this for every  election?  Martin Luther King, Jr. dreamed of a day when his children would be judged by the content of their character not the color of their skin.  Has that day arrived?  Can it arrive with the 800 lb. “word that shall not be said” still in the room?

I don’t know.  I want to learn.  Vivian and Conaway have opened the door to thoughtful, respectful dialogue.  I suggest we walk through it.  Waldo brings up the Confederate Flag.  Can we be proud of our ancestors that defended their homeland when it was attacked without being racist?  If so, can we show it without being hurtful?  Can we define ourselves as Virginians?  Should we let outsider pundits define us, correctly or incorrectly, as two Virginias?

The door has been opened.  Let’s walk through it, together.

Let’s face it - we can’t all be purebred Jack Russell Terriers with all of our bloodlines traced back to England.  Would that we could, what a dreadful, boring pallet we would be.  Instead, we were blessed by an artist known as “The Great Melting Pot.”  The pallet is always changing and we can look at it as “abstract art” and ask, “What is the artist trying to convey?  What is the meaning of it?”  With our different perspectives and constantly changing pallet, I doubt we will ever reach a consensus on its meaning but that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate and admire it.

I know enough about my family history to know that I’m a mutt.  No pedigrees here and none needed.  I am who I am.  If I learned today that my parents adopted the unwanted love child of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gloria Steinem forty years ago, it wouldn’t change the fact that I proudly displayed the confederate flag in the 1980’s.  I can’t honestly tell you I did it as a sign of Southern pride, either.  It was purely a symbol of teenage rebellion.  The “We’re Not Gonna Take It” attitude of the Class of ’84.  Just like my ancestors (the ones that were in this country) weren’t “gonna take” being attacked by the North, the Class of ’84 wasn’t gonna take being bossed around anymore by parents, teachers or other such grown-ups.  We were eighteen, we were seniors, we knew everything - except that in other parts of the country, the stars and bars was seen as being oppressive and hurtful.  Like George Allen, I truly didn’t know.  Like George Allen, once I became aware of its impact on others, I stopped displaying it.  (But I’m still not gonna take it from grown-ups!)

It wouldn’t change the fact that although I wasn’t old enough to vote for the Equal Rights Amendment, I still opposed it and would so today - but that’s for another blog.  The fact remains, I am who and what I am.

My grandmother wasn’t a mutt.  She was a purebred Austrian, first generation American.  Her family first settled near Chicago but later moved to Virginia, after her father fell in love with the “soft rolling hills” of Patrick County.  He told her he chose that area because it most reminded him of his home in Austria.  After meeting and marrying my grandfather (When you want to get a husband, make sure you live next to a farm with six brothers.  If you run away fast enough, you’ll catch one.) they migrated, along with my great-grandmother, who spoke mostly German, to the coalfields of Southwest Virginia.  This was during World War II.

Jim Webb, during the MTP debate, spoke of the coalfields area as being “inclusive.”  Whether that is true today is debatable, depending on one’s definition of “inclusive.”  I do know there are people out there that are still sore for being duped into believing that Doug Wilder was “the white one.”  But I digress. . . Richlands wasn’t inclusive of women with odd first names and German speaking mothers.  Even though she led the community in volunteering for the war effort, she was still tagged as a nazi sympathizer at best, a nazi at worst.  Did she ever discuss the World War II years with me?  NO.  IT WAS JUST TOO PAINFUL.

My grandmother raised me, excuse me, reared me (You raise corn, you rear children.) before as well as after my mother’s death.  If I ever do anything right in this lifetime, it’s attributable to her.  I was always her little “tag-along” (If you’re not welcome then I’m not, either.) and we shared a bond that endured and even grew stronger when our care-taker rolls were reversed as Alzheimer’s disease wrapped its cruel, despicable gnarled fingers around her.  Even then she wouldn’t talk about the World War II years.  IT WAS JUST TOO PAINFUL. Every time she heard the song, “Happy Days are Here Again!” tears would well up in her eyes and she would say, Why must they play that?  Don’t they remember we were starving? And that was that.  IT WAS JUST TOO PAINFUL.

Grandma loved politics.  Her father had an unsuccessful bid for Congress in Illinois when she was a little girl.  My grandfather was in the Virginia House of Delegates for fourteen years which gave my grandmother an opportunity to befriend many Virginia politicos.  We supported Mary Sue Terry over George Allen for Governor.  Mary Sue had a sound record, more experience, and let’s face it - she’s smarter.  George Allen was a career politician with limited tenure in the Virginia Legislature.  We didn’t feel the Governor’s Mansion was an appropriate training ground for Allen.  If I were to write about that election, it could be subtitled, “How Goober Pyle defeated Martha Stewart.”  But I digress again. . .

George Allen moved into the Governor’s mansion.  Grandma studied him, intrigued by this very tall, tobacco-chewing, boot-wearing newcomer to the Virginia political scene.  She would try to be in the audience whenever he visited Southwest Virginia.  I understand that she would usually work her way to the front of the crowd to see him and he was always graciously responsive to the “little old lady in tennis-shoes.”  Other elected officials often gave her what she called the bum’s rush.

In 1996, with Alzheimer’s closing in, she very much wanted to attend the Republican National Committee meeting in DC.  The invitation said that George Allen was to be among the keynote speakers.  I was reluctant for many reasons - one being that even though she was eighty-seven, I had a hard time keeping up with her.  As usual, she persevered and I acquiesced.  She insisted on wearing a dress with a hole in it (no one will notice on a galloping horse!) and off we went.

It was worth every penny.  She beamed with pride as she pointed Governor Allen out to the Californians at our table -  “That’s MY Governor!“ and broke into a full gallop to talk to him after his speech.  I have no idea what she said to him because I was taking pictures.  I do know that with all the “fancy” people vying for his attention, he spent the most time with my grandma and that I later found his card with his handwritten phone number on the back.

Grandma never gave up on Richlands.  She dedicated her life to making it a better place than it was when she found it.  In the Spring of 1998, the town rallied and had a special amendment passed so that our commonwealth could name a bridge after a living person.  She was the recipient of this award but by then the grasp of Alzheimer’s was too strong for her to appreciate its significance.  VDOT gave me an exact replica of the sign posted on the bridge (it’s actually two bridges because it’s on the four-lane part of Rt. 460) because, as the VDOT employee explained, “This way the family is less likely to steal the sign.”

With a slightly bemused expression, grandma would later silently trace the letters on the sign with her large, arthritic fingers.  I would love to know what thoughts went through her mind.  Would I ever demand, for the sake of my own self-knowledge that she discuss the parts of her life that were JUST TOO PAINFUL?  Hell no.  Would I be angered if someone ambushed me in a televised debate with an irrelevant question that would bring pain to this remarkable woman?  Hell yes.

If Senator Allen’s campaign needs a theme song for the next 47 days, I suggest, We’re Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister, 1984.

Special note to Virginia Political Bloggers: During the remainder of this campaign, I hope you will think about your own grandmothers.  Would they be proud of the job you are doing?  Would you be proud showing them your work?  Also remember what Bill Bolling said at the Martinsville Blog Conference: (Paraphrased by Kat at Cathouse Chat)

To bloggers, Mr. Bolling says, “Be fair.” He feels that blogs are good for communicating information and for holding politicians accountable. He simply asked for the courtesy from bloggers to be as fair as possible, which seems a logical enough thing, and something we all ought to strive for anyway. He also stated that he was very much against regulating or taxing the blogosphere (he may have meant to include the Internet in general, but didn’t specifically make that statement, that I recall). He believes that if bloggers behave irresponsibly or illegally, there are existing laws - libel, slander, and defamation laws come to mind - which apply; there’s no need for more legislation. He concluded with the “Be fair” statement, reminding us all that politicians, although thick-skinned by necessity, are still people, and that the general public is rather tired of negativity in any case. And so, “Be fair.”

And if you still have your grandmas, give them a hug.  From me.

Without a doubt, the funniest line from Friday night’s dinner came from Will Vehrs.  Mr. Vehrs compared his trip to Martinsville during his suspension to the first time he had sex: “It was over in a flash and all I remember is apologizing a lot.”

Barnie K. Day. What more can I say?  Former Delegate, columnist, banker, Scorpio, author, bear killer, savant, former Supervisor, asparagus farmer, journalist and store owner.  Now he can add, Emcee for a Blog Conference to his impressive resume’.  Great job, Barnie.

Feel the love!  Barnie’s a tough act to follow but Lt. Governor Bill Bolling was up to the challenge.  I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man who hails from both Cedar Bluff and Hanover (former stomping grounds of badrose!)
“And I do solemnly swear to never refer to Democrats as Democrats ever again.”  Ugh- I was proud to be a Republican during the question and answer period after his speech.  Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Come to the Blog Conference next year!
I know exactly what Will was thinking. . .
“Can it really be?  Al the Toy Collector?  At a Blog Conference??”

Humor disclaimer: Since our Commonwealth has yet to hold a referendum on what constitutes humor, someone may be offended by the previous comments.  Don’t run whining to the local newspaper.  Simply e-mail me so that I may forward your e-mail to the biggest gossip monger in your party as an example of how weak your party is.