From the Blog

Posted by brianrants at 3:00 am

For my birthday, my beautiful wife took me to see our Colorado Rapids
vs Everton. Everton is a team from the finest soccer league in the
world, the English premier league.

We controlled the ball and had more quality chances to score, but
Everton's goalie Tim Howard (an American) was incredible and led them
to a 2-1 victory.

Check out the awesome Rapids garb I have draped around my chiseled bod.

I really think Obama is the best person to lead our country.

What Plouffe says below is definitely what you would expect from a campaign mgr…but I think it is true. Hillary has too much spin for my taste. Claiming he’s elitist when they’ve  made 109 million since 2000, and Obama was raised by a single mother and just got his college loans paid off.

I do like lattes though, and definitely sip them rather than gulp them
Begin forwarded message:

From: “David Plouffe,” <>
Date: April 14, 2008 11:30:47 AM MDT
To: Brian Rants <>
Subject: Who’s out of touch?

Brian –

Make a matching donation You’ve probably heard about the latest dust-up in the Democratic race.

A few days ago, Barack spoke about the frustrations that working people in this country are feeling and said what we all know is true: that many people are bitter and angry because they believe their government isn’t listening to them.

You and I both know that the hope of changing that reality is what drives the unprecedented support for this campaign from ordinary people in every part of the country.

But our opponents have been spinning the media and peddling fake outrage around the clock. John McCain’s campaign, which will continue the George Bush economic policies that have devastated the middle class, called Barack out of touch and elitist. And Hillary Clinton, who is the candidate who said lobbyists represent real people, didn’t just echo the Republican candidate’s talking points: she actually used the very same words to pile on with more attacks.

These comments show just how out of touch Senator McCain and Senator Clinton are with the reality of what’s happening in this election.

We’ve built the broadest campaign of ordinary people in the history of presidential politics — and more people across this country have voted for Barack Obama than either one of them.

And we’ve done it the right way: our campaign is funded by everyday people giving $5 or more. That’s distinctly different from Senator McCain and Senator Clinton, who both rely on money from Washington lobbyists and special interest PACs.

There’s nothing elitist about a movement of more than a million people standing up for a different kind of politics.

If you’re fed up with these kinds of tired attacks, you can do something about it right now. We’re setting a goal of 1.5 million people giving to this campaign by May 6th.

You can bring a new donor into this campaign by promising to match their donation. You choose the amount you’re willing to match, and our system will pair you with a supporter who is giving for the first time.

When you do, you’ll be able to see for yourself exactly what kind of people are joining this movement. When that supporter makes their donation, you’ll receive a note with their name and town, and (if they choose to write one) a note about who they are and why they decided to give today.

Thank you for all that you’ve done so far — you are the strength behind this movement. And right now, you can double the impact of your next donation if you make a matching gift. Will you help fight back now?

Barack Obama’s own life and story are reflected in the character of this grassroots campaign. He was raised by a single mother with help from his grandparents. He has a family he loves, not long ago finished paying off his student loans, and he’s doing what he can to help change this country.

That’s what he’s done for his entire career. After graduating, he became a community organizer, working with people in Chicago who — like many people across the country right now — felt left behind by their leaders.

When you make a matching donation, you’ll be paired with someone with that same sense that it’s time for a government that is responsible to the people for a change.

Someone is waiting to hear your story, and to share theirs with you. If you can support the campaign at this crucial moment, you’ll be able to share your story about why you’re committed to this campaign.

And because this is a matching donation, your gift of $25 will be doubled by another supporter. You’ll have twice the impact and help reach our unprecedented 1.5 million-person goal. Make a matching donation now and be a part of history:

The attacks from the Clinton campaign — on Barack Obama himself, and on supporters like you — can be expected to increase as her chances of winning dwindle further.

A few weeks ago, one of her top aides tried to diminish our success by referring to the places we’ve won as “boutique” states and to our supporters as the “latte-sipping crowd.”

That means 30 states and territories — twice as many as Senator Clinton has won — qualify as “boutique.” And the nearly 15 million people who have voted for us (again, more than Senator Clinton) must drink a lot of latte.

It’s clear that Senator Clinton will continue to say or do anything as her campaign gets more and more negative.

But 1.5 million donors will be an astonishing and undeniable signal that it isn’t the elites fueling this movement — it’s the American people.

That starts with you.

Thank you,


David Plouffe
Campaign Manager
Obama for America


Paid for by Obama for America

This email was sent to:

To unsubscribe, go to:


This is a snippet from an email from Barack’s campaign manager.

Barack is a spinner too like any politician, but I think it is reasonable to say that the Clinton campaign has been a whirling dervish (how the h@#$ do you spell that?)

When we won Iowa, the Clinton campaign said it’s not the number of states you win, it’s “a contest for delegates.”

When we won a significant lead in delegates, they said it’s really about which states you win.

When we won South Carolina, they discounted the votes of African-Americans.

When we won predominantly white, rural states like Idaho, Utah, and Nebraska, they said those didn’t count because they won’t be competitive in the general election.

When we won in Washington State, Wisconsin, and Missouri — general election battlegrounds where polls show Barack is a stronger candidate against John McCain — the Clinton campaign attacked those voters as “latte-sipping” elitists.

And now that we’ve won more than twice as many states, the Clinton spin is that only certain states really count.

But the facts are clear.

For all their attempts to discount, distract, and distort, we have won more delegates, more states, and more votes.

Meanwhile, more than half of the votes that Senator Clinton has won so far have come from just five states. And in four of these five states, polls show that Barack would be a stronger general election candidate against McCain than Clinton.

We’re ready to take on John McCain. But we also need to build operations in places like Pennsylvania, Indiana, North Carolina, and Oregon that will hold their primaries in April and May.”

I also like what Stephen Colbert said last night…here it is, in my words.

Clinton has emphasized winning big states, like Ohio and Texas. The democratic primary winner in Texas has won all of the last 8 general elections…except for 7 of them.

I say enough spin Clinton…Barack has pulled ahead, and you aren’t going to catch up unless you can spin your way into a super delegate coup.

Posted by brianrants at 1:29 am

Walking around the (incredibly busy) Cherry Creek mall, I'm struck by
a dissonanace in the American views of beauty and physical health.

On the one hand we are the heaviest nation in the world. As Dr. Oz on
Oprah discussed, the generation of children today is predicted to be
the first in our history to have a shorter lifespan than their

As a nation we are dangerously overweight, consuming foods that could
best be described as sh*#. Over processed, sodium laden, high fructose
corn syrup infused crap. Like our addiction to instant gratification,
we like foods which give an immediate rush. Overtime, that leads to
HBP, diabetes, and more

On the other hand we have uber-skinny models. The .5% skiiniest women
in America all seem to have made their way to New York's runways. It
is wonderful if a woman has a small frame for her to be thin, but that
is not the only kind of beautiful.

What a dissonance…there is much confusion I our society about what
beauty is, this is just one example on my mind…

Brian Rants

"Love never fails."
St. Paul
1 Cor 13

My lovely tour of the east coast continues. May try to add some pix later…for now here is some of the fun stuff we are doing.


I had no idea how much history I would discover in Philadelphia. Call it brushing up on American History.

The oldest residential street in America (early 1700′s), the building where the first Continential Congress drafted letters to King George about taxation without representation, cobblestone streets…amazing. I HIGHLY recommend getting the tour in a horse drawn carriage. The drivers know amazing facts about the history of the different buildings.

I also met some lovely beers.

City Tavern: this is where Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, and Ben Franklin would put down a cold one after a long day planning the revolution….amazing!
- Thomas Jefferson Ale: a hoppy amber ale…a bit too hoppy for my liking. Enjoyed it nonetheless, especially since this was Tommy Boy’s actual recipe!
- Martha Washington’s Summertime Ale: a very nice, light summertime ale…delicious


The beautiful Block Island, Narragansett beaches, buildings from the 1700′s, New England architecture, seafood…and great time with family.

Rhode Island is like getting out into the country…except it is by the ocean. Very nice.

- Newport Storm: a nice smooth ale…I prefer a little more bite like a Fat Tire, but I would definitely get it again.
- Narragansett Lager: it was nice. Not a huge lager guy, but I would drink this again.
- Dogfish IPA (something like that): man, I can’t stand IPA’s. This was again confirmed.


Experience would tell me that if I hear a slur about Mexicans floating through the air of my local park, it probably was lofted by a white male.

Experience would tell me that if someone died last night in a gang-shooting in Compton, CA, it was probably a young black male.

Experience would tell me that if a school shooting and suicide happened yesterday, it was probably disgruntled white boys.

Experience. Hunches.

Are these the root of prejudice? Racism?

When I walk down Colfax street late at night in Denver, am I more alert to the presence of a homeless man, or a well-dressed urbanite?

This is painful to talk about, because there is prejudice in each of our hearts. A lifetime of side comments, misunderstandings, and lack of open discussion about our differences and similarities in society leaves these blank spots in our knowledge of our fellow Americans.

So this snap judgments, this hunches, are these prejudicial? On some level, I think they might be. But I do not think they form the core of racism, and not all of categorization is ill-intended (those hard nosed Irish-Catholics).

We must go deeper into the belly of racism. There at the core, I believe, is dehuminization. When I look at a man who has tragically chosen a life of crime in inner city Compton, and see “another black gangsta,” I have dehumanized him. When I hear that white man lofting his disrespectful remarks about Hispanics, and see “an ignorant redneck,” I have dehumanized him.

I have categorized him in a way that removes him from me, that makes him dissimilar and separate. In reality, that young black male is my brother, a fellow human. That young disgruntled white youth is tragically deceived, and probably believes that no one gives a sh#$ about his life, so why not take it and a few others at school?

Our cultures vary widely, and with it our values, beliefs, and behaviors. But at the core we are HUMAN. And when I look at someone, be they a success or a failure in the eyes of our society, I should see a brother, a sister.

And when that brother or sister–or myself–makes tragic choices, it is a cause for sadness. For when one of our kind drops, the ripples are felt throughout humanity.

Posted by brianrants at 10:19 pm

I am working together with several writers to create a new website that encourages people to join a discussion that is central to both democracy and the future of our nation.

It seems both the far left and far right seem incapable of calm and reasoned discussions that assume our common pursuit of life, liberty and happiness. Instead we see adrenaline fueled attacks on the other’s character.

I believe there is a solid base of Americans who truly want to see the best for our nation, and discussions that have been lost to anger and dissension must now be restarted.

Posted by brianrants at 4:41 am

Well, today I found out that the post office location I was using is closed permanently. So I have the joy of re-contacting all the clients and agencies using my address, which I did just a month ago, to inform them of the new address.

So there was a few of us slightly disgruntled PO Box owners waiting for the last of our mail. Two strangers, ladies, with loud voices, struck a unique bond. Apparently the owner of the contract post office location was from India. The lady with the loudest of the two voices was uniquely blessed with wisdom and insight, and was able to boil the whole complicated issues down to it’s central problem: he was a FOREIGNER.

From there, they subjected the entire Glendale Post Office to a diatribe of their ignorant and ill-informed opinions of…FOREIGNERS. Something about Chinese guys with unprounounceable names all using the same drivers license, Germans with bad credit using shady credit cards back home. Apparently native-born Americans are a persecuted bunch, as “foreigners get away with things I would never get away with. If we ever want to get away with something, we should just ask some foreigners.”

Please, go back to 1849…oh yeah, and I think black people should only count as 3/5 of a person in our national census.

These words are deeply spiritual, and stir a deep sadness within me.
Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion
upon our fathers for centuries untold,
and which to us looks eternal, may change.
Today is fair,
tomorrow may be overcast with clouds.

My words are like the stars that never set.
What Seattle says the Great Chief at Washington can rely upon
with as much certainty as our paleface brothers can rely upon
the return of the seasons.

The son of the White Chief says
his father sends us greetings of friendship and good will.
This is kind,
for we know he has little need of our friendship in return
because his people are many.
They are like the grass that covers the vast prairies,
while my people are few
and resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain.

The Great, and I presume, also good,
White Chief sends us word that he wants to buy our lands
but is willing to allow us
to reserve enough to live on comfortably.
This indeed appears generous,
for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect,
and the offer may be wise, also
for we are no longer in need of a great country.

There was a time when our people covered the whole land
as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea covers its shell-paved floor.
But that time has long since passed away
with the greatness of tribes now almost forgotten.
I will not mourn over our untimely decay,
nor reproach my paleface brothers for hastening it,
for we, too,
may have been somewhat to blame.

When our young men grow angry
at some real or imaginary wrong,
and disfigure their faces with black paint,
their hearts, also, are disfigured and turn black,
and then their cruelty is relentless and knows no bounds,
and our old men are not able to restrain them.

But let us hope that hostilities
between the Red Man and his paleface brothers
may never return.
We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain.

True it is, that revenge,
with our young braves is considered gain,
even at the cost of their own lives,
but old men who stay at home in times of war,
and mothers who have sons to lose,
know better.

Our great father Washington,
for I presume he is now our father as well as yours,
since George has moved his boundaries to the North
- our great and good father, I say,
sends us word by his son,
who, no doubt, is a great chief among his people
that if we do as he desires he will protect us.

His brave armies will be to us a bristling wall of strength,
and his great ships of war will fill our harbors
so that our ancient enemies far to the northward
- the Simsiams and Hyas,
will no longer frighten our women and old men.
Then he will be our father
and we will be his children.

But can that ever be?
Your God is not our God!
Your God loves your people and hates mine!
He folds His strong arms lovingly around the white man
and leads him as a father leads his infant son
- but He has forsaken his red children,
He makes your people wax strong every day
and soon they will fill all the land;
while my people are ebbing away
like a fast receding tide that will never flow again.
The white man’s God cannot love his red children
or He would protect them.
They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help.

How, then, can we become brothers?
How can your Father become our Father
and bring us prosperity,
and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness?

Your God seems to us to be partial.
He came to the white man.
We never saw Him, never heard His voice.
He gave the white man laws,
but had no word for His red children
whose teeming millions once filled this vast continent
as the stars fill the firmament.

No. We are two distinct races,
and must remain ever so,
there is little in common between us.

The ashes of our ancestors are sacred
and their final resting place is hallowed ground,
while you wander away from the tombs of your fathers
seemingly without regrets.

Your religion was written on tablets of stone
by the iron finger of an angry God,
lest you might forget it.
The Red Man could never remember nor comprehend it.

Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors
- the dreams of our old men,
given to them by the Great Spirit,
and the visions of our Sachems,
and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you
and the homes of their nativity
as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb.
They wander far away beyond the stars,
are soon forgotten and never return.

Our dead never forget the beautiful world
that gave them being.
They still love its winding rivers,
its great mountains and its sequestered vales,
and they ever yearn in tenderest affection
over the lonely-hearted living,
and often return to visit and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together.
The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the white man,
as the changing mist on the mountain side
flees before the blazing morning sun.

However, your proposition seems a just one,
and I think that my folks will accept it
and will retire to the reservation you offer them,
and we will dwell apart and in peace,
for the words of the Great White Chief
seem to be the voice of Nature speaking to my people
out of the thick darkness that is fast gathering around them
like a dense fog floating inward from a midnight sea.

It matters little where we pass the remainder of our days.
They are not many.
The Indian’s night promises to be dark.
No bright star hovers above his horizon.
Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance.
Some grim Nemesis of our race
is on the Red Man’s trail,
and wherever he goes he will still hear
the sure approaching footsteps of the fell destroyer
and prepare to meet his doom,
as does the wounded doe
that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters,
and not one of all the mighty hosts
that once filled this broad land
or that now roam in fragmentary bands
through these vast solitudes or lived in happy homes,
protected by the Great Spirit,
will remain to weep over the graves of a people
once as powerful and as hopeful as your own!

But why should I repine?
Why should I murmur at the fate of my people?
Tribes are made up of individuals
and are no better than they.
Men come and go like the waves of a sea.
A tear, a tamanamus, a dirge
and they are gone from our longing eyes forever.
Even the white man, whose God walked and talked
with him as friend to friend,
is not exempt from the common destiny.
We may be brothers after all.
We shall see.

We will ponder your proposition,
and when we have decided we will tell you.
But should we accept it,
I here and now make this first condition,
that we will not be denied the privilege,
without molestation,
of visiting the graves of our ancestors and friends.

Every part of this country is sacred to my people.
Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove
has been hallowed by some fond memory
or some sad experience of my tribe.
Even the rocks,
which seem to lie dumb as they swelter in the sun
along the silent shore in solemn grandeur
thrill with memories of past events
cted with the fate of my people,
the very dust under your feet
responds more lovingly to our footsteps than to yours,
because it is the ashes of our ancestors,
and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch,
for the soil is rich with the life of our kindred.

The sable braves,
and fond mothers,
and glad-hearted maidens,
and the little children who lived and rejoiced here
and whose very names are now forgotten,
still love these solitudes
and their deep fastnesses at eventide grow shadowy
with the presence of dusky spirits.

And when the last Red Man
shall have perished from the earth
and his memory among white men
shall have become a myth,
these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe
and when your children’s children shall think themselves alone
in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway,
or in the silence of the woods,
they will not be alone.
In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude.

At night, when the streets of your cities and villages
shall be silent and you think them deserted,
they will throng with the returning hosts
that once filled and still love this beautiful land.

The white man will never be alone.
Let him be just and deal kindly with my people,
for the dead are not powerless.
Chief Seattle, a hereditary leader of the Suquamish Tribe, was born around 1786, passed away on June 7, 1866, and is buried in the tribal cemetery at Suquamish, Washington. The speech Chief Seattle recited during treaty negotiations in 1854 is regarded as one of the greatest statements ever made concerning the relationship between a people and the earth – that speech, published in the Seattle Sunday Star , Seattle, Washington Territory, October 29, 1887, is reproduced here for you.