The candidates’ meeting with representatives of the overwhelmingly older, white and suburban movement revealed an appalling level of small-mindedness.

The audience exhibited one form of bias after another.

When Rep. Ron Paul, R-Texas, was asked if a person should be left to die if he had chosen not to get insurance, some in the crowd yelled “yes” and laughed.

When Texas Gov. Rick Perry defended access to higher education for Latinos who had been brought to America as babies, he was booed.

When Paul pointed out that Muslims in countries that were bombed by the United States could have reason for joining anti-American movements, he was booed.

The crowd fulminated over the Affordable Care Act — the health insurance law enacted by President Obama, an African-American. But they were much quieter about virtually the same law signed by Mitt Romney, a white man, when he was governor of Massachusetts.

The candidates added to the rancor as they pandered to the crowd.

Former Pennsylvania Sen. Rick Santorum described Latino voters as illegal voters, as if all Latinos were such.

Romney said Latinos who were Democrats came to this country to get handouts, slandering millions of hard-working Latinos.

Mixed in with all this rage was tremendous faith in big business. Less regulation and more tax breaks for the rich were regular mantras.

The fact that deregulation of the banks and tax breaks got us into the horrible recession we’re suffering didn’t seem to bother anyone at the debate.

The real Boston tea party supported respect for all, even those who didn’t think like them. Today’s tea party should do the same.

Ramon Castellblanch is an associate professor of health education at San Francisco State. He can be reached at

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Trump's politics are not the problem.

The fiery Milwaukee Sheriff is on the shortlist to head the Department of Homeland Security.

By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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