Why can't a...

.... Democrat be more like a Republican? And by that I mean, just once (ONCE) could a dyed in the wool democrat give her candidate the benefit of the doubt instead of rushing to assume the absolute worst? When George Bush was campaigning, youtubes of him drowning kittens would have been interpreted by his base as a sign of his strength. They would have been terrorist kittens, for frack's sake. But, us democrats, by god, are jaded, cynical, and the smartest guys in the room (and that room includes our candidate). So, a misstep by our guy (even a perceived one) and it's instant gloom and doom: just add blogpost.

I wish just once a democratic blogger would grab the back of the candidate. I don't want us to be like the Bush Legion of Doom, but it would be nice it we could just say "hey, I have a little faith that Barack knows what he's doing."

Sigh - it'll never happen.

This is the kind of thing I was talking about before:



The Villagers are getting their knickers all up in a twist because of this (I'll let Atrios do the work for me). And it's ALL feigned outrage proffered in the interest of proving their own patriotism bona fides and underscoring a narrative that they've constructed. It's just.... exhausting.

Dressing in a Tough Economy

Things are tight, man. So we've been doing what we can to keep ourselves looking fashionable and appropriate. I think we've done a great job with Laney...

Putting Offense on the Defense

I'm giving up being offended, having my feelings hurt, righteous indignation - the whole nine yards. I. Am. Sick. Of. It. I come from a family of women for whom equanimity is a character flaw. We are like princesses for whom the slightest slight is a pea beneath our mattress (worse even than peeing on our mattress). If being offended were an Olympic sport, we'd own the gold medal.

And forget about our national discourse - we're so pleased with our ease of offense, that we get our hackles up as easily about Jamie Lynn Spears as we do about torture, illegal wars, dead soldiers. A common slip of the tongue and, man, ain't we fired up about what a right bastard you are?

Every pundit, politician, and barroom provocateur aspires to Josesph Welch. And if he were standing in front of us today, asking the question he asked Joseph McCarthy, the short answer would have to be no:



Sense of common decency? Who needs it when we have a sense of entitled righteous indignation!

*Edited to note that the irony of me being so offended by people being so offended hit me rather after I wrote this post...

Feminist Fairy Tales

Laneybon LOVES to hear stories. She begs for one every night. It pains me, though, to reinforce the notion that the best things a girl can be are, in this order:

• pretty
• sweet
  
• married.
  

So, I edit the stories a little. Sometimes there are mild edits: Cinderella and the Prince, for example, date for a year before they get married. Some stories you just can't do much with: the only action in Sleeping Beauty is a pretty girl falling asleep. I have a couple, though, that I've honed and perfected through multiple tellings and retellings. My Snow White is a political cautionary tale for the privileged set (yeah... I'm talking to you Cindy Fucking McCain). My Rapunzel is a bookish musician who captures the heart of her man by penning "Help!"

I think I may put these down for posterity. But I'm a little afraid of the humorless feminist label. Of course, that particular label is just one of the many nefarious mechanisms of the man for keeping us down. Fuck it... maybe I'll start writing the stories down right here for my legions of adoring fans. Be a nice way to track their evolution.

Evangelizing

I evangelized successfully for Battlestar Galactica a few years ago (I'm pretty sure the show owes its success to the three people I convinced to start watching it). So here's the new on I love. I especially love the moment that comes about 50 seconds in when Josh pulls himself up from the ground. I just thought this was really great!

Older Than Homer

When I was 22 years old, I saw Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire and fell in love. And, now? Now I am older than Homer Simpson. He's been 38 for 17 years. I'm 39. I'm older than Homer. Yikes.

Along about the same time I discovered The Simpsons, I was at Bootlegger's with my pals from the bar where we worked. It was late and we were the only people in the bar. We sat on barstools in a corner: I with my legs up on my friend Mike's lap, balancing an ashtray on my thighs; he purposely missing the ashtrays to put holes in my tights, which was hilarious at 2:00 am when you're hammered and 22. The DJ played "Under the Bridge" (a brand new single back then) and we all moved to the dance floor, swaying in a circle, singing along. It is an abidingly fond memory for me.

That song came on the radio this morning as I drove into work, and damned if it didn't just transport me back to that lonesome bar in the middle of Chicago. That moment feels relevant still, despite the fact that babies conceived that night are writing college admittance essays. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are, what? their Led Zeppelin?

The thing about aging is that it, of course, beats the alternative. That doesn't mean it doesn't suck. But it could suck worse. There's definitely some pluses. But, since the only comment I've gotten on this blog is from my pal, Jessica (AKA: the wonderful and amazing 32 year old Jessica): maybe now is a good time to talk about the things I learned through all this aging:

1. There comes an age when a woman is too old to fall asleep with her makeup on. That age is 30. Wash your face and moisturize every night.
2. Speaking of moisturizing... moisturize. As my mother told me, you're never too poor to afford a good moisturizer.
3. Keep your face OUT OF THE SUN!!!! And, for god's sake, wear sunscreen!
4. Don't try and keep at your 22 year old weight. Someone (Catherine Deneueve?) said "around 40 every woman has to choose between her face and her ass." Choose your face. More people will see it.
5. Don't wear at 39 what you wore at 29. You'll look silly.
6. Most importantly: stay in the world. You get old when you privilege the culture of your youth over that of the current youth. By that, I don't mean you ought to try and co-opt youth culture (see point 5), but don't cloister yourself in music from the 90s. Try and watch TV without feeling superior to it all. Enjoy the world. Care.

Cindy Effin McCain

I was thinking about lots of things I wanted to write about this weekend... but I keep going back to Cindy McCain and her shitty, snide comment about Michelle Obama. Aren't we over these nostalgic Ameri-freaks yet? Aren't we tired of being lectured on patriotism by people who've never suffered the myriad slights, indignities, and outright outrages suffered by folks who don't march in perfect lockstep? The thing about these people is that they've never been poor, they've never been black, they've never been particularly introspective or empathetic. Pride in country is pretty easy when country has always been generous to you. Why care about civil rights if you're not a minority? Why be worried about feminism, if you're rich enough to find a doctor to declare your abortions medically necessary? Why worry about equal pay when you're just going to inherit your money?

Michelle Obama, on the other hand (in the interest of full disclosure: Michelle Obama has recently ousted Starbuck from my number one girl crush position) has suffered the slights and indignities. She is smart and empathetic. And she is interested in making the world better instead of returning to Mayberry (especially since Mayberry would have sucked for her). So when she says she feels really proud of her country, it means something and it makes me feel really proud of my country too.

I really like Barack Obama a lot. I think he'll be a great president. But part of me thinks the biggest reason I like Barack so much is that I have faith and confidence in a man who marries a woman like Michelle Obama. It says a lot about who he is.

Effing Birds

I just hopped over to this blog post which was interesting in that it totally freaked me out. Man, I HATE birds. I am a vegetarian. I love animals. I have been known to weep over dead squirrels (by "weep", of course, I mean look at the carcass somewhat sadly and say "aw"). But birds freak me the fuck out and always have. The only thing worse than coming home to find a giant bird in your house? Coming home to find a bat in your house.

It is the fluttering. There's something unnatural about fluttering. If I believed in God, I'd think it was part of His plan to demonstrate to us that evil exists. And it flutters.

Putting Shit Away

I just got back from my brother's place. He and my sister-in-law are the tidiest people alive. These are people with three children under six, the youngest of which is 2 months old. And yet, everything in their house is put away. All the time. They. Are. My. Heroes. So, I decided today to try and capture this magic. I worked for nine hours, organizing, putting stuff away. And now my body hurts, I smell kind of bad, I have no energy to discipline the little monkey upstairs who won't go to sleep. And my house is still a sea of clutter.

Balls.

Daley

I was planning on shouting down this well on an entirely different topic, but just thought I'd take this opportunity to say to my legions of adoring fans (me) that I'm sick to death of Mayor Richard J Daley. He's got me pondering the unthinkable - supporting the Republican Party! I'm starting to think that Chicago could use a Republican mayor... is that crazy?

The Rise of the Beavis

Look at this kid:


Pretty cute, isn't she? She's turning into Beavis, though. Of an evening, there she is, lying in bed, sweetly close to sleep, thumb in mouth and she murmurs "Hey, Mommy?" And I say "Yes, my lovely girl?"

BUTTCRACK BOOTIE BOOGER FARTHEAD!!!!!

And then she cracks up.

So do I

My Thing

A bit before Madonna adopted the cone-bra, I was a freshman in college, sitting in my very first class. Words like "metaphor" and "paradigmatic" were flying around and I found myself saying "Romeo was a sappy loser" (harsh, but true). I was onto something. I stumbled across this casual, colloquial way of talking and it worked for me, man. I wrote papers this way, my grad-school application this way. It was my thing, and I was awesome at it.

Flash forward, and there's all this blogging and facebooking and my thing is the norm. Sucks to be me, though: so many people are way better at it than I ever was.

One of the reasons the Internet is awesome is that it's easy to find a million people just like you. Of course, that's one of the reasons why the Internet is teh suck too.

But I love it and still WANT IN, goddammit.

Blog The First

So it all started on the Tuesday after the Texas primary/ caucus thing when I couldn't sleep and found myself involved in a way that's just not normal. Also I have a habit of smoking cigarettes or eating something I shouldn't when stuck in the middle of these not normal times. So, I thought maybe I'd write in this instead.

I think Helo is the 12th cylon.

That is all