Please sign the petition below to remove the statue of Jefferson Davis currently in Kentucky’s Capitol Rotunda, and replace it with a tribute to Muhammad Ali, “the Louisville Lip” and “the Greatest of All Time.”
I just heard from the Ali family: It is the Champ’s belief that Islam prohibits three-dimensional representations of living Muslims. Accordingly, I have adjusted the petition to call for a two-dimensional representation of Ali (a portrait, picture or mural) in lieu of a statue.
UPDATE (Tuesday, December 2, 2014)
In this interview with WHAS-TV’s Joe Arnold, Governor Steve Beshear endorses the idea of honoring Muhammad Ali in the State Capitol (although he disagrees with removing Davis). Arnold explores the idea further on his weekly show, “The Powers that Be.”
Click here to check out WDRB-TV’s Lawrence Smith’s coverage of the story.
And here’s my op-ed in Ali’s hometown paper, the Louisville Courier-Journal.
UPDATE (Saturday, June 4, 2016)
In the wake of the 2015 Charlestown tragedy, in which a Confederate flag-waving murderer united the nation against racism, all of the most powerful Kentucky policymakers — U.S. Senator Mitch McConnell, Governor Matt Bevin, Senate President Robert Stivers and House Speaker Greg Stumbo — called for the removal of the Davis statue from the Rotunda. Today, as we commemorate last night’s passing of Muhammad Ali, there is no better moment to replace the symbol of Kentucky’s worst era with a tribute to The Greatest of All Time.
UPDATE (Wednesday, June 8, 2016):
Great piece by Lawrence Smith of WDRB-TV in Louisville on the petition drive to replace Jefferson Davis’ statue in the Capitol Rotunda with a tribute to Muhammad Ali.
UPDATE (Thursday, June 9, 2016):
Excellent piece on the petition drive by Jack Brammer that was featured on the front page of the Lexington Herald-Leader.
Highlight of the article:
Miller said he has received a few “angry comments” on his call to honor Ali.
“One of them encouraged me to kill myself,” he said. “You can quote me that I have decided not to take their advice.”
UPDATE (Friday, June 10, 2016)
The petition drives continues to show the Big Mo(hammed): check out these stories from WKYU-FM public radio in Bowling Green and WKYT-TV, Channel 27 in Lexington:
UPDATE (Saturday, June 11, 2016):
Still not convinced? Check out this excerpt from today’s New York Times:
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Aug 30, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
The problem with third base births and CCR
I have loved the song (and video) Fortunate Son for some time. I first saw it as a rendition by Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam (see below) and put it in my iTunes collection. Recently I discovered the original was done by CCR (Creedence Clearwater Revival) and that the song was actually a lament of how most young Americans during the Vietnam War didn’t have the advantages of some privileged sons (“I ain’t no senator’s son” is one lyric line) to avoid serving in the war. In other words, the song was not about being a Fortunate Son of our great country, as I first imagined, and sang along without really understanding the words.
And that made me feel like maybe I don’t deserve to enjoy this song since I am someone who would be considered by CCR and Eddie Vedder, a “fortunate son” in a negative or unfair sense.
I’m not a “senator’s son.” But I am the grandson of a US senate candidate who lost that race 5 times, and the son of a father who was a governor and briefly a US senate candidate before dropping out of the race. And I’ll be the first to tell you, yes, there are tremendous and very unfair advantages to being a privileged son.
I have never tried to pretend otherwise. A few years ago I spoke to a group of entrepreneurs at Louisville’s Venture Club and was asked about these advantages. I responded, “Yes, I was born on third base (referencing Anne Richard’s political zinger aimed at George Bush Sr a few years back that he was “Born on third base and thought he hit a triple”). But that I was well aware that I didn’t hit a triple. In fact, I added, “I’m still not quite sure how I got on third base. I just know I have no recollection of ever being at bat.
Secretly, I suspect I was hit by the pitcher—maybe on purpose—and it was pitch was so hard they let me take three bases instead of just one. But that’s probably not the truth and just a story I tell myself so I feel like I earned third base on some level in some technical way. But I know deep down it was mostly a privilege thing. But there I was on third base.
“But I felt guilty about it,” I told the audience. So “I stole second base. And then I stole first base. So I could get back to where everyone else has to start on base.” I continued, “That relieved some of my guilt but I’m not sure it was the best play. At any rate, right now I think I may have found a way to get back to second base…and for the remainder of my life, I’m going to be trying to just get back to third base again—which is where I started. So, please don’t be mad at me for any advantages I had—and I had a lot—because, at this point any way, I’m just hoping to ‘break even’ in life by getting back to where I started from.”
That whole part of the speech was largely improvised but I liked the analogy and am sticking with it—and it summarizes pretty well the way I feel about all that. I hate it when people who have had great advantages in life try to make it sound like they pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and are self-made men or women.
I recall Al Gore starting his presidential campaign in 1992 with a story about how he grew up in Carthage, TN and chopped wood or some such story. Yuck! And, of course, there really are no self-made men or women. But some are less self-made than others. I put myself in that category.
I am grateful for the advantages I have had. As I said at another time to someone who brought up this topic, “I have had doors opened to me others don’t. But what I do and what happens after I step through that door is on me and up to me. But getting that first foot in the door matters a lot and is a big life advantage.”
The key in life, I guess, is to take whatever advantages we are given and try to make the most of them— do something useful for others with them (as well as useful to ourselves and our families). To whom much is given, much is expected, and all that. But at the end of the day , when we are quiet and alone, only we know in our hearts if we are living up to ourselves and our potential. And we never stop trying to….and, of course, seem always to feel we are falling a little short. But we do keep trying. And that is the main thing –and probably our saving grace.
But back to the song Fortunate Son. I have tried to make peace with all this privileged son business. As for any help with not serving in the military, that was never the case for me. I recall a few days before my 18th birthday being in a hotel room with my father and telling him I was going to register to vote in a few weeks and there was talk at that time about reinstating the draft (as there often was from time to time back then). I was afraid and asked my father what I should do if the draft was reinstated and I got drafted.
He responded, “Well, you have to go. That’s all.”
I responded, “But what if I die? Are you saying you want me to go to war and die?”
“Of course not, but you have to go in the military if drafted?”
“Were you drafted?” I asked.
“No, but I served in the reserves.”
I told my father I had a friend who told me about consciencious objectors but my father, in his inimitable over-simplified but correct and persuasive way, said, “You don’t want to do that. You couldn’t live with yourself afterwards. You just go if you are drafted. That’s all. Just one of those things you have to do. And it probably won’t happen anyway.”
So, there you have it. I was ready and willing to serve if called on. But, like the band members of CCR and Eddie Vedder, I did not volunteer. What does that mean now? It means if I met the members of CCR today and they called me a “fortunate son,” I’d tell them to “Suck it,” and add I work 14+ hours a day, was willing to serve in the military if called to duty and am proud of the life I have built for myself and my family and grateful for privileges I had and hope I have used them well—and am proud of my country and support our military.
But if I met Eddie Vedder that same day and he called me a “fortunate son,” I would probably be more apologetic and say something like, “You know, Eddie, you are right. I have had a lot of privileges I don’t deserve and do feel guilt about them. It is unfair. And it stinks for others not as fortunate.” I would not tell Eddie Vedder to suck anything. I like him more than CCR.
And that sums up about how I feel about it all. Sometimes with some people on some days, I am at peace with it. Other days with other people under other circumstances, I feel that piercing shot of guilt—the same one I felt when I heard Anne Richards that same night tell George Bush Sr he was born with a silver foot in his mouth. I laughed at first. But a few minutes later realized she was also talking about people like me. And stopped laughing as hard…. and hoped nobody noticed.
And I still love the song Fortunate Son (both versions—CCR’s and Eddie Vedder’s), whatever it means. And don’t apologize for that. It’s a good song. And I’m proud to post it. As a Fortunate Son myself.
By Zack Adams, RP Staff, on Thu Aug 30, 2012 at 10:00 AM ET
The Politics of Tech
Jack Andraka, 15, invents cancer test that is 168x faster, 26000x less expensive, and 400x more sensitive than the current standard. 3¢ and 5 minutes [BBC]
Joel Tenenbaum has been sentenced in federal court to pay $675,000 for illegally downloading 31 songs. That is $22,000 per song he is on the hook for. [Gizmodo]
“Is a $675,000 fine for sharing 31 pirated songs too much?” [ExtremeTech]
Obama Administration Announces New Public-Private Partnership to Support 3D Printing [White House]
In his semi-regular gig as political commentator for CTV News — Canada’s version of CNN, Fox and MSNBC all rolled into one — The RP opined about the Republican National Convention, the impact of Ann Romney’s speech, the hazards of the GOP platform, and his friend and contributing RP, Artur Davis.
By Patrick Derocher, on Wed Aug 29, 2012 at 3:00 PM ET
This week’s Republican National Convention has exposed a large and growing rift between former allies George LeMieux and Charlie Crist.
It’s convention season, so Florida was bound to have some interesting problems. When Charlie Crist publicly endorse President Obama and began to slam the Republican Party (his former party) a few days ahead the Republican National Convention, George LeMieux, former US Senator from Florida and advisor to Mr. Crist, responded with a scathing editorial. LeMieux claims “this isn’t the Charlie Crist I knew” in a letter to the Tampa Bay Times, lamenting his former boss’s shift from a “Reagan Conservative to an Obama Liberal.” Worth noting: Crist lives in St. Petersburg, mere miles from the location of the ongoing convention. [Tampa Bay Times]
Read the rest of… The RP’s Weekly Web Gems- The Politics of the States
By Bradford Queen, Managing Editor, on Wed Aug 29, 2012 at 12:30 PM ET
The Politics of Faith
Bill Nye — yes, the science guy — says teaching Creationism is not appropriate. [CNN]
Cardinal Timothy Dolan, the archbishop of New York and head of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, will offer a prayer at both parties’ conventions. [NYT]
Poor economic conditions are having a negative impact on the churches, pastors say. [LifeWay Research]
The parents of Tyler Clementi, a gay teen who committed suicide in 2010, said they have left their church. His mother said they grew out of step with their church’s view on homosexuality. Clementi’s suicide followed the discovery that his college roommate had spied on his sexual relations, and broadcasted them on the Internet. [NYT]
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Aug 29, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Pancakes and patience.
Back from last family dinner before our son was college bound.
We shared –despite protestations–an assortment of random funny stories of when Johnny was younger. One of mine was when he was about 4 years old and we were sitting at an IHOP and our order was taking a very long time. It was Johnny’s first trip to IHOP and he was hungry for pancakes and wanted to try all the different syrups.
After he asked again how long it would be until the waitress brought our pancakes, I responded: “Johnny, this is a good opportunity for us to learn patience.”
Johnny’s head whipped around angrily and glaring at me he said in a frustrated voice, “I don’t want to ever learn patience!! Patience is bad!!”
I leaned back in my chair and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I”d rather have the pancakes that learn patience too.”
I’m not sure either of us has learned a lot about patience since then either. But we at least considered it briefly 14 years ago.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Aug 29, 2012 at 8:30 AM ET
The RP and John Y. Brown, III
— friends for nearly two decades — have a lot in common. A youthful political addiction, a more mature wisdom of the folly of politics, much, much better halves who’ve helped then grow up, truly demented senses of humor (albeit, John Y. is more demented and more humorous). Now they find themselves coping at the exact same time with one of the most difficult rituals of middle age: sending their first borns off to college a few hours from home. They both were pretty apprehensive as the magic date approached, and pretty blue once it passed.
Today, they share their reflections with the RP Nation. Enjoy:
===
JOHN Y:
The importance of ice cream and fathers. And kids.
Our son moves out tomorrow to go to college. As I drove home late from work my mind was reeling—reeling about the immediate future (getting ready for tomorrow’s big event), about the present (the final night at home before our son moves out and moves on) and, of course, about the past (memories which now seem eerily ancient of a boy who is no longer a boy anymore).
My best memory for both my children is what we came to call “ice cream night.” For nearly 9 years –every Monday night—I would pick up my two kids while mom had the night to herself. When we started Johnny was 6 and Maggie 2. It became a weekly tradition with dad. We had a routine and we stuck to it almost without fail. We’d get ice cream (usually at Graeters) and then go to Barnes & Noble bookstore for an hour or so where we’d look at books and magazines, get something to drink like hot chocolate and make up some activity. Sometimes we’d play slow motion hide-and-seek so we wouldn’t be noticed by the bookstore employees. Sometimes the kids would make up a play for me in the children’s book area. Sometimes I’d read something to one or both of them. Later we’d listen to music or just sit in the cafe and talk. But we were there every Monday night. Until we weren’t.
It’s hard to persuade a 15 year old to do much of anything especially hang out with Dad on Monday nights. But I remember a few years earlier asking my family if they would be on board with me running for Lt Governor with then House Speaker Jody Richards. They were. The only hesitation was my son asking if that meant we’d no longer get to do ice cream on Monday nights. I told him softly and candidly “It might.” He looked down at the ground for several seconds but knew something bigger was at stake and then said, “That’s OK.”
I’ll never forget that and tried to keep our Monday nights going through the campaign. And did a better job than I expected. Even the state Democratic Party chairman knew Monday nights were a special–sacred, really–time for me and my children and would ask frequently during the campaign if I had taken care of business the previous Monday night. I was able to say I had more often than not.
I am grateful for those 9 years. More now than ever.
Tonight as I drove home from work I was approaching Graeter’s ice cream and decided to call to see if they were still open. They were. And so was the Barnes and Noble bookstore across the street. Both stayed open until 10pm. I called my wife and she got both kids to meet me for ice cream again and even joined us herself this time. We were buoyant at the funny irony of it all. We ordered our ice cream and sat and laughed about how we can’t go back in time. Perhaps most can’t. But tonight I was able to–at least briefly.
I hurried everyone out of Graeter’s to go by Barnes and Noble one last time “for old time sake,” I said. The kids agreed. We walked through the doors and were greeted by staff offering to help us and reminding us they were going to close in 3 minutes. I recognized one of them from our earlier days. We walked up together to the magazine section and lingered for a minute or two chuckling awkwardly with one another. And then we were told the store was closing. The kids left and my son drove my daughter home. I stayed inside a few minutes longer to do a quick once around to see if everything was as I remembered it. It was. And then I unlocked the already locked entrance door and let myself out. And drove home alone.
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THE RP
Commemorating the 10th anniversary of my father’s passing the same week I dropped off my oldest daughter Emily for her freshman year at college brought forth a rush of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
One of my most cherished possessions is a letter penned to me by my father on my first day of college. He didn’t actually give it to me until decades later, for later-to-be-obvious reasons — both my mom and he were putting up a brave face to help compensate for the natural homesickness I would be feeling on my first days from the roost.
It is intensely personal, so despite the public life I’ve chosen for myself, most of my dad’s words will remain in the exclusive possession of his intended audience.
But I feel compelled to share his closing paragraph with my friends, because my father — whose poetic stylings far exceed anything I’ve written — so incredibly encapsulates my inner conflict in the days following my own first born’s first day of college. And for those of you who’ve gone through this rite of passage, perhaps you can identify with my dad’s words as well:
Please remember that we love you without reservation, and are here when you need us. We wish that you never have pain, but know you will, and hope that you can use our feelings for you to get past your own hurts and failures. You sure have helped us with ours.
While Lisa and I have tried hard, especially over the past few years, to prepare our daughter for independent life, there’s only so much that any two of us can do. It’s impossible to reconcile the desire to fully and completely protect your child from the harms of the world with the understanding that at some point, they need the freedom to make their own mistakes, seize their own triumphs.
And that’s the heart of my struggle. I’m so damn proud of what an extraordinary young woman my daughter has become, and so excited to see how she will continue to grow and flourish, given her newfound independence and the opportunity to study, learn, and make new relationships on a remarkable college campus. But she will always be the little girl I held in my arms; she will always be the fragile flower that I would sacrifice my life to protect.
Letting go is the most difficult thing I have ever done. But I know it is also the most important.
= = = = =
Read the rest of… John Y and The RP: Sending our First Borns to College
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Aug 28, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Life lessons. Remedial version.
This morning I was going through my routine at Starbucks:
1) Walk in;
2) say hello to the Barista;
3) order coffee and something to eat;
4) go to condiment bar to pour out 1/8th of my coffee to make room for the cream and sugar;
5) and walk back to car.
As a rule I try to keep all my daily processes to 5 steps or under to minimize chances of leaving out some critical step.
And that has worked well.
Until this morning.
I got to my car and realized I had failed to put in the cream and sugar. The lady in front of me had to re-scan her credit card while I was in mid-order. I made some joke to her about it and we both laughed. But that caused me to lose my mental place in my process chain. I confused step 4 for step 3.
At first I wasn’t sure what to do so I simply said an expletive to myself. After a few seconds it became clear that more needed to be done.
Then a flash a genius.
Obviously, it was too embarrassing to go back into the Starbucks. And as a rule (a second one), I hate to look foolish in front of Baristas or strangers with credit card problems.
So I drove across the street to Speedway and stealthily got a cup and put cream and Splenda in and tossed in a stirrer. I slinked back to my car as the cashier watched to see if I had stolen something. I held up my Starbucks coffee cup as I poured in the cream and Splenda and he finally looked away.
It tasted terrible.
And I learned yet again the important life lesson that it is better to “look foolish (at Starbucks) and be happy” than to “try to look cool but actually look really foolish (at Speedway) and be unhappy.”
Blog this!
The RP and John Y. Brown, III 
