"There is nowhere on earth, no mountain, no jungle, no tenement, no desert, no church, no temple, no mosque, no refugee camp, no tribe, no race, where a human being, no matter how obscure the language or culture or lifestyle cannot look at America and see themselves. Despots and tyrants and mass murderers cannot look here without seeing the women and men of their tribe, of their region, of their religion, of their language, of their nation living as free human beings, as Americans." from America by Kevin O'Kendley
Posted on 11/9/2018:
Whether President Obama was born in Hawaii or Kenya was an ethical question but never a legal one. Though President Obama's father was born in Kenya his mother was born in the U.S., so he was eligible to run for the presidency (though President Obama did have a Hawaiian birth certificate). Senator Cruz was born in Canada, his father in Cuba, but his mother was born in the U.S., and so Senator Cruz was eligible to run for the presidency.
(As part of 11/9 post, posted originally on 1/6/2016):
21st Century consensus: those children born to U.S. citizen-parents in foreign countries qualify as natural born Citizens. So a child born in a foreign country to American parents or parent can become president of the United States of America.
Presidential eligibility is considered a "non-justiciable political question" that might possibly be a Congressional question and not a question for the U.S. Supreme Court.
Within Article II of the U.S. Constitution (abridged):
"No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States" can become president. Other requirements included in Article II: The president has to be of the "Age of thirty-five Years and had been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States."
- The World Almanac 2015 & Wikipedia
Happy Father's Day:
Father Time is the mother of all action figures:
Becoming a house husband can be a close second but not if you don't let it --
New to the job? Let it be known that if invited to a Tupperware Party you'll be wearing a hardhat and kilts. Real Scotsmen don't wear underwear under their kilts. If a real tough mother does invite you over she won't let you sit down anywhere or at least not on a white or light colored couch. I've been waiting fourteen years for a Tupperware Party invitation. Guess what? You're right. I never got one. So, once you got that out of the way you can call yourself anything you want because this is America. One of the things I call myself is: writer.
Here's some other job descriptions you can use:
If you're changing diapers: Waste Disposal Engineer. Ever write a check? Property Manager. Brush the dog: Dog Groomer. Make toast: Electronics Engineer. Change the oil in your twenty-year-old car: Auto Mechanic. A week late on your taxes: Tax Resister. See where I'm going with this.
You are not a househusband you're Captain of the Bridge, the fate of all civilization is in your hands. Really. You are helping to raise a child or children that may never start a war, that might cure cancer, or become president, or someone that will be happy and live a full life.
So, when you're in your Soccer Dad Car and you see a beautiful woman speed by on a Harley you can forget about your plethora of job titles now and again (you're only human), but never forget that a father by any other name is still a father by any other name.
Happy Father's Day: Pat, Dick, Jack, Billy, Jim, Steven, Jackie, Bret, Larry, Mathew, Bob, Merrill, Eric, Dean, and in memory of: Bill, Lloyd, Gary, Orlin, Dick G., Ralph, and Bernard.
Hey, is this the same guy that the security crew at El Al refused to check for an underwear bomb?
Please give to Make-A-Wish Foundation: 4742 North 24th Street, Suite 400/ Phoenix, Arizona 85016/ 800-7229497
Happy Memorial Day:
Sometimes you can't repay people for an act of kindness, loyalty, charity, sacrifice, or courage, but you can try -- sometimes life is in the effort...
"He did not understand the war --
"He understood the blistering injustice of it; the stroke-like fear in the faraway sight of the raped as they blamed him for not being there; the accusing eyes of the children that leered from atop distended bellies even as they starved; the seeping lines of grief lacerated into the faces of fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives who had lost all they loved; the tortured and the maimed becoming in part or in whole separate from who they once were; and the Dali-draped carcasses of the dead…
"The evil of the war bored into his heart, twisted with agony until he learned to ignore it --
"Until he could ignore it no longer." - from The Invisible War aka The Forgotten War, a short story by Kevin O'Kendley
"He’d seen a lot of death in his life but it hadn’t inured him to the pain of it, the tragedy, the loss, the suffering. On the contrary, it had a cumulative effect: on darker days this effect swamped him in a Tsunami of emotion, after all the smaller waves passed, a big one threatened. He would watch it nearing shore with a rising dread…" - from Chandler's Bar, a novel by Kevin O'Kendley
Please give to The Paralyzed Veterans of America: VA Palo Alto Health Care System/
3801 Miranda Avenue/ Palo Alto, California 94304/ 650-858-3936/ And:
The Wounded Warrior Project: National Processing Center/ P.O. Box 75840/ Topeka, Kansas 66675/ 877-832-6997
Today is Peace Officers Memorial Day in the United States:
A Good Cop Makes The Job Noble
or Good Cops Make The Job Noble.
Please give to the Police Protective Fund: P.O. Box 1084/ Schenectady, New York 12301/ 877-343-2477
God, Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh, Ahura Mazda, Durga, just before his first cup of coffee in the morning.
Kevin O'Kendley is the owner of Carbuncle Moon, and the author of all original material on the website (there has been a very limited editorial input in some of my work). Quoted sources are noted. I am responsible for all posts.
Kevin O'Kendley: P.O. Box 172, Winterport, Maine, 04496, and 200 P Street, A-32, Sacramento, California, 95814, firstname.lastname@example.org.
Technical help is provided by an evolving computer genius, my son, Conor O'Kendley. A good kid with a great heart who can be reached at P.O. Box 172, Winterport, Maine, 04496.
Photography provided by a visual artist, my daughter, Caitlin O'Kendley, a young woman with a beautiful soul.
If your nonprofit is advertised on this site and you wish to have it removed please contact me at the above listed snail-mail or email address or use the contact form on the website.
If you download a blog, cartoon, a short story -- or for any other reason -- and wish to donate $ to this site, its author and technical support personnel, please send donations to above listed addresses payable to Kevin O'Kendley. My family and I could use the dinero.
All cartoons, blogs, and short stories are for sale.