Tuesday, November 25, 2008

George Eliot and The Wire

My favorite book is Middlemarch. My second favorite book is Great Expectations.

You guys are impressed, right? Those are some HARD books! This ain't exactly Carl Hiassen*, is it?

Check it out, though: while, I love these books because they are so rewarding (I'm convinced that there's more to learn about living in the pages of Middlemarch than in all the religious tomes and self-help books in the world. Including Ecclesiastes. And I'm a fan of Ecclesiastes), but these books are also entertaining as hell. Middlemarch is freaking hilarious (poor George Eliot, no one gives her credit for funny). Pip is a hoot to read about.

EDITED TO NOTE: At this point, I meant to say something about how I have to talk myself into reading these books. I always forget about the rewarding and funny and entertaining bits and always remember the hard parts. RETURNING TO ORIGINAL POST

I've been watching The Wire over the past couple of years. I'm almost through season four. And, much like those works of great literature, I find I have to persuade myself to sit down and watch The Wire. Because it's hard!

That said, I could wax rhapsodic for hours about the performances and the writing and the heart-breaking reality of it all. And, above all else, the entertaininess of it! Come on, y'all, has there ever been a character more compelling and appealing than Omar Little? Tony Soprano has NOTHIN' on him.

But, to the point of this rambly post: if I told you I read for leisure, I imagine most people would assume something worthwhile. For some reason, people don't leap to dog-eared copies of VC Andrews novels when they hear people read for leisure. But if you say like to watch TV, people do immediately imagine slack-jawed chuckling at the horny antics of Charlie Sheen.

Television (much like rap music) is often judged by its worst example. All TV is not Two and a Half Men or COPS. Some TV is really really really good. The medium affords a story-telling arc unrivaled by any other art form. Not even really great novels. I cannot imagine a novel or a movie being able to create a world as fully realized as the world of The Wire. Man, you all should watch that show.

* By the way, I really love Carl Hiassen novels too

Monday, November 24, 2008

The Republican Ethos, in a nutshell

In the Sunday magazine section of the Trib, a letter appeared from Judy Baar Topinka, a local Republican pol:

...I am aware of where we get our food. However, reading about slaughtering, as in the Chicago Tribune Magazine ("The Caring Carnivore," Sept 21), was a bit much on a Sunday a.m. reading. To the folks who do the slaughtering - no easy job- thank you. However, when it gets right down to it, I don't want to read about it.

Ladies and gentlemen, your Republican ethos in a nutshell: she resents being exposed to the cost of something she feels entitled to, she entirely misses the point of the article in question, and is too stupid to realize she could have simply stopped reading.

On another note, I thought the article that was "too much" for Judy was really wonderful. I know I am a tree hugging vegetarian and all that - but the writer, Monica Eng is a meat eater. If you have the time, check it out.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Why I Blog

Blogging is one of the most self-indulgent activities out there. I mean, do I really have so much interesting stuff to say that I expect people to read and be amazed at my perspicacity and cunning use of English like four or five times a day?

I wish. That would be great. But I doubt it.

But, like I say, these thoughts bounce around inside my head and if I don't force myself to address and examine them in SOME way, I am led towards bad behavior. And by this I don't mean drinking and smoking (I'll find my ways to those no matter how expressive I am). I mean I get judgey as a motherfucker.

Before this blog, I had several abortive attempts at journaling. Ain't I sensitive? But keeping a journal is a tricky business - I mean, who are you writing for? You can just blather on indiscriminately and, unless you're Ann Rice or TS Eliot (yeah, I just put them in the same sentence) no one will ever read it. And so that's what I did in my journals: I blathered on indiscriminately.

But with a blog, even if no one is reading it, there's a chance someone will. So it forces me to organize my thoughts... at least a bit. It's a discipline and a therapy, and I've grown to depend on it a little.

So irrespective of its popularity - this little blog is what I use to exhume all sorts of thoughts and put them up against an imaginary arguer. I find that since I've started this, I'm calmer and less inclined to judgmental asshattery.

So, I got that going for me.

Friday, November 21, 2008


I'm lobbying hard for my awesome friend Jessica to return to Chicago having found a man who deserves her (which is HIGH praise indeed). I just put the following to her in a comment on Facebook and like what I said (probably due to the fatigue + three glasses of wine) enough to want to blog it:

Today I was driving Laney home from girl scouts at what my mother (by way of TS Eliot) calls the violet hour; that time right before twilight. I was sitting at a light about to get on Lake Shore. The lake was just a slightly different blue than the sky so you kind of had to guess at the horizon. The ferris wheel on Navy Pier had just lit up. You know, I've enjoyed a glass of good wine at sunset looking at The Eiffel Tower and that was awesome. But it was less beautiful than the lit up ferris wheel on Navy Pier fronting the lake and the sky on a crisp fall day. I've lived here 20 straight years and Chicago continues to take my breath away at the most random times with its beauty. The shitty horrible cold winters (and they are shitty and horrible) are infinitely worth it.

A Few Thoughts at Bedtime Story

I've been reading Laney SkippyJon Jones books lately which are AWESOME! I tell you, you have not lived until you've found yourself snuggled up with a five year old saying "Hola Muchachitas" in giggly unison.

Some thoughts at storytime:

1. I have a lot of books I read to Laney where I find myself slipping back into a southern accent. When I get back in that southern accent it feels like the most natural way to speak - way more natural than my normal midwestern flat accentless accent. If you change your accent (especially on purpose like I did), I wonder if it just gets harder to be yourself in general.

2. Regardless of your accent, what's up with American English? I read the words "puddle" and "bottle" with the same second syllable. And pronouncing the "t" in "bottle" sounds unbelievable pretentious in American. Crazy, huh?

3. Tonight before SkippyJon, we did a little Curious George. At one point George finds himself in a museum surrounded by stuffed animals on display. Laney grabs my arm and says "I know what they are! Animalkins!" Now, I'm thinking she's doing some kind of riff on Webkinz. But, instead, she tells me that mannequins are fake men, so these are fake animals so they're animal-quins. Come on, y'all, how great is that? Animalquins. I love it.

4. If I ever get my rock and roll band started, I think we'll be called Animalquins.

Adios, muchachitas!

Opinionatin' Outta my A**

I've been following these leaks from the Obama transition team about cabinet appointments assiduously. I remain profoundly ignorant about what it all means. This, however, will not stop me from opinionating on it.

I like it. I like this mix of Obama the young guy with fresh ideas surrounding himself with these old guard folks who really know their way around Washington. It makes me feel like he's serious about making change and knows that he needs some seriously skillful politicians around to help him do the work.

I've read some complaints that appointing Hillary, for example, is a poor choice since her foreign policy is different than his. But isn't Hillary's job to effect Obama's foreign policy rather than to implement her own? And Hillary, as Tina Fey famously said, gets stuff done.

I like it. I think this administration is going to get stuff done.

The one thing I learned from the election...

... Barack Obama is smarter than me and all the pundits out there, even the really really smart ones. So, if he thinks HRC is the right choice for SOS, then he's almost certainly right.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Kathleen Parker

Kathleen Parker has been enjoying quite the surge of relevance these days. She said that Sarah Palin was unqualified and then said that all that God was turning the Republicans into a fringe party. Well, there's some stunning political acumen!

Parker has been syndicated in the Trib for years. Long before she got her job at the Washington Post, I was reading her. It was Kathleen Parker, as a matter of fact, that brought me to my most famous (in my own mind) axiom: it's OK to be an asshole if you're not stupid. And it's OK to be stupid if you're not an asshole. It is never OK to be a stupid asshole. Guess which of these I think Kathleen Parker is?

To wit:

A column in which she avers that gay people who want kids do so out of profound narcissism because:

As long as children are viewed as mere extensions of our selves, put here to satisfy some narcissistic need for self-actualization, it is easy to suppose that our needs and their needs are complementary.

She leaves as understood why it's different for straight people.

Another column in which she said the main reason for opposing Intelligent Design as a school subject is because:

Atheists, secularists and others whose aversion to religion sometimes borders on fanaticism — there's no dogma like no dogma — see in Bush's remark a subversive move toward replacing Darwin's theory of evolution with a creationist view of man's origin.

It's got nothing to do with how Intelligent Design is NOT science.

And my all time favorite, low-brow pop culture is responsible for Abu Ghraib:

The images from Abu Ghraib, now irreversibly tattooed on the Arab brain, were every frat-house cliche magnified. The human pyramid, males mooning, masturbation, bags over heads. What we saw, at least in part, was "The Farrelly Brothers Do Baghdad."

Oh, also if you're reading this and you voted for Barack Obama, Kathleen Parker says you probably did it because you're a big fat narcissist.

If we want to talk about a conservative speaking the truth about the Republican Party, I can think of a WAY better example than Kathleen Fucking Parker.

****Edited to add: The reason those of us on the left should be leery of extolling Kathleen Parker is because once she's done basking in her newfound credibility, she WILL start writing about gay marriage and adoption by gay couples and intelligent design and the American Assault on Masculinity again. Either she is a credible source for those of us on the left, or she isn't. She isn't.

Shoop, Part Deux

My awesome cousin with the thin blood in Arizona reminded me of this: inarguably the greatest Salt 'n' Pepa cover ever.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


I have sworn to avoid at all costs being one of those middle aged people bitching about kids today. I have a theory (among many) that the day you get old is the day you start privileging your own youth over the youth that is happening right now. Despite all that, I cannot help but ponder these kids today.

Do you all remember those righteous feminist singers from the 90s, Salt 'n' Pepa? Do you remember how they were going to go out, get laid, do it on their terms, and if you didn't like it, well, too bad:

If I wanna take a guy
Home with me tonight
It's none of your business
If she wanna be a freak and
Sell it on the weekend
It's none of your busines

Where are their god-daughters?

I think it probably started about ten years ago with Poor Britney (in my world, she is always Poor Britney). Poor Britney's mother let her make a video in which she vamped around in a slutty school girl outfit, moaning and writhing. But, she swore to her own virginity again and again. Youthful sexuality, in other words, was co-opted and fetishized by, corporate media.

Here's my theory in a nutshell: the hardest thing about being a young woman or a girl is that it is implied in nearly every societal aspect that you are in charge of the sex that happens. In the natural order of things, boys are led around by their dicks and girls keep them in check. The girl's number two job, by the way, is to be sexy for the boys.

So back when I was one of those young women, it was inspiring and empowering to see these hot women talking about doing it and doing it because they wanted to NOT because some guy talked them into it. Do young women have those kinds of role models now? Or is it always crap like Katy Perry kissing a girl, which I'd like to rename "I Kissed a Girl Because the Straight Boys Think That's Hot"

We seem to be regressing into a pop culture in which female sexuality is defined by the boys. That sucks. I blame George Bush (why not)? Here's a little Salt 'n' Pepa:

Monday, November 17, 2008


I was going to write some more tonight about the Obama election, because I have more thoughts. I'll write that tomorrow. Instead, a general question: is it just me or when you see an internet post or comment that begins with "uhm" does it make you want to cut a bitch? I hate that internet trope - it's smug and condescending but smug and condescending in that way that 14 year old girls can be.

I mean, probably when people use it, they don't mean to be mean-girl smug. It's like when someone changes lanes too closely in front of you. The assholery is probably unintended. Yet, it is there.

Bride Wars

I went to see Role Models with Don Bon yesterday. Quick movie review: the first hour and a half of the movie was pretty much mediocre mitigated by a laugh every 10 minutes or so. But the last scene of the movie was so funny, laugh-out-loud, pee-your-pants funny, that I forgave the first hour and a half for its mediocrity. Plus, that Paul Rudd sure is cute.

In short – rent it.

So, Role Models dismissed and done with – allow me to move onto the trailer for the latest Kate Hudson/Ann Hathaway vehicle: Bride Wars. The plot, in a nutshell: two women, friends since childhood, have shared a lifelong dream of a Plaza wedding. It appears, in fact, as though their entire friendship is predicated on this shared dream. Once fiancés are acquired (fiancés being de rigeur for the Plaza wedding), they blissfully book a couple of Saturdays at the dream venue and begin planning. Plot contrivance ensues and only one of them can have The Plaza. So, they both go completely apeshit and start acting horribly to one another, but horrible in a super funny way, I'm sure.

Now, let's just take as understood that at the end of this movie the young women will realize that their friendship is more important than a wedding venue, blah-de-blah blah moral-of-the-story cakes. But until that mandatory realization, the movie will exploit the tired, sexist trope of women and their weddings; to wit: we are shallow and silly. Until we're not.

Kate Hudson should know better. Her mother should have told her. And, Anne Hathaway should know better. She seems strikes me as a bright, sensitive young woman on her own merits. So, WHY are they making this execrable movie? And, while I'm shouting questions down the well, WHY does Kate Hudson seem so determined to flush all her Almost Famous goodwill down the drain? And WHY is she sporting a haircut that makes her look about 20 years older than she is? WHY?!?!

Friday, November 14, 2008

Look out New York, We're Nipping at Your Heels!

While you can never take the Memphis out of the girl, I've lived in Chicago long enough to get develop a real Jan syndrome vis a vis New York. But, after a couple of incidents, I'm starting to sense a sea change out there...

First the personal. I was reading one of my favorite bloggers, a brilliant, hilarious guy. A blogger with a proud sense of decency. And I came across a post in which he lets loose with heaving amounts of vitriol ostensibly directed at Disney (which I can get behind) but really against People Who Are Not New Yorkers. To wit:

I had noticed the three slightly mousy middle-aged women decked out in full Dress Barn gear discreetly craning their necks in our direction since we first sat down.

Ah, you can strive to be as supercilious a non-native New Yorker, but you will fail (unless you're French... the French are good at it)

A few days later, I engaged in a wee bit of Facebook back and forth with a couple of (I assume) non-native New Yorkers which resulted in me learning that there are lots of cool places in New York, but New Yorkers don't take tourists there. Translation: we are the coolest city in the world, but you'll have to take our word for it because we do not descend among the great unwashed (AKA: midwesterners).

Now let's imagine you're waiting for luggage at O'Hare (and, trust me, if you've checked a bag, you will be WAITING for your luggage at O'Hare). You may ask the man next to you about some fun things to do at night in Chicago. As you wait for your luggage (and wait and wait and wait) you'll notice that every resident of the city will begin chiming in. You should go HERE for pizza! Now, they should go THERE! Goodman totally rocks. Steppenwolf is better. Check out The Bean! Oh, you gotta do the architecture tour. And, above all else, Drink All Night.

Due to our civic Jan syndrome, we are eager to show you how awesome our city is. We WANT you to go back to Battle Creek and tell your friends how great Chicago is (and, like, way better than New York, guys!).

(And, not for nothing, didn't we look good on November 4th?


New York is a great city. It's an exciting city. Tina Fey broadcasts out of there. Jon Stewart is there. That said, look out, New York. We'll tell you where the good restaurants are and won't make fun of your clothes. And if Oprah's there? We'll all gawk together!

Proof that a Five Year Old Could Lead the Anti-Gay Marriage Movement

So this morning in the car I was talking to Laney about the protest downtown against prop-8 (or for gay marriage). She was asking me to explain it and so I decided to make the hypothetical real. I told her that her aunts in Phoenix loved each other the same way her daddy and I love each other (apologies to my Arizonz bee-otches. I hope you don't mind me using you as examples). Then I asked "don't you think it's fair that they should get to be married like daddy and I are?

She agreed.

Then she said "Could I marry Madison?"

And I said no, since they were too young.

Then she asked if she could marry Ginger (the dog).

And I said she couldn't marry an animal, and besides she's still too young to get married.

Then an entirely complicated hypothetical arose in which she and Madison were grown up and Madison was married to someone else and could she then get married to Madison.

And then it hit me: she was articulating the main talking point of the anti-gay marriage adult. If you allow gay marriage, then all bets are off: marrying children, marrying animals, polygamy! Oh my.

But the thing is, Laney is FIVE! The concept of what marriage is; the fullness of it, its rewards and complications, are beyond her ken and will be for some time. But I'm willing to bet the mortgage payment that at some point today, on Fox News, there was a 45 year old posing the exact same hypotheticals Laney was making in the car today.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Opening Your Heart

I believe it was an interview with or a novel by Ann Lamott where I stumbled across the prayer "Open your heart... open your heart." Ann Lamott is a passionate Christian and I'm not sure if I believe in God or not, but I still find this very useful as a mantra. When I find myself growing blind with rage with banal elevator chit chat or the car in front of me hitting brakes at a green light (quite possibly my two biggest pet peeves), I repeat that until I start freeing myself from the anger and resentment.

The problem is that I'm a child of the 80s...

Open note on adoption (with a particular Scot in mind)

My brother and I both came forth from the same womb and are really different. In a million ways. With regards to nature vs. nurture, I've long been on the side of the nurture argument. That said, there are clinical issues that I will always worry about. I mean, you don't go to a doctor without filling out a family history questionnaire.

But, I've had some caffeine and am over my pity party. As the hopefully soon to be senator from Minnesota would say: it's all just stinkin' thinkin'. I am the mother of a happy, healthy little girl. And it behooves no one to wallow in worry.

English Kills Me. (part one of a continuing series)

Did you ever think about the difference between 'few' and 'a few'? Imagine it's last Monday and think of the difference in these two sentences:

John McCain has few supporters in Pennsylvania.
John McCain has a few supporters in Pennsylvania.

One little article. Weird, huh?

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Parenting is hard...

I'm getting to the point where it's finally hitting me how it never gets easy. There are so many milestones that you pass and as you're on the road to that milestone you think of how much easier it will be when you get there. Once she's potty trained, once she's done napping, once she learns to read... and on and on.

But it never gets easier. It only gets harder.

Parenting is an awesome responsibility. It's the greatest thing I've ever done. It's hard. Lately, it seems like every day I find myself thinking, "Oh, if she could only see herself the way I see her! If she only knew how beautiful and smart she is!" And when she doesn't, it feels like I'm not doing my job like I ought to.

She's got a little confidence issue right now. And most of me believes this is just a phase, like so much of growing up is. But, there's a chunk of Laney's life I know nothing about. And her DNA is a total mystery. I doubt that will ever go away. It'll always sit there in the background: the great enigma of her existence. Even though I know every parent is surprised by the person their children become. This worry, I suspect, is hardly unique to adoptive parents.

It's worrisome. It's hard. It's still the greatest thing I've ever done. But there are days when I feel like my heart will burst with wanting for her; with wanting a better world for her, with wanting comfort for her, with wanting confidence for her, with wanting her life to be everything she wants it to be.

I'm just so grateful for her and I want so much to earn her presence in my life. Another thing I suspect is hardly unique to adoptive parents. Still, it's hard. And the greatest thing I've ever done.

Reason #420 million why you should watch Rachel Maddow

... because if you did, you'd know (like me) that Tony Dow (AKA Wally Cleaver) has a sculpture showing at the Louvre.

I think it's probably only fair to mention that even though Tony Dow is like 25 years older than me, I still thought Wally Cleaver was awful cute.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Friends as Cultural Signifier (really!)

So, I've taken to DVR-ing old episodes of Friends and watching one before I go to bed. It's soothing to me. I went through my 20s with the kids from Friends and watching them is a little like going home for 22 minutes. Is that sad? That's not sad, is it? Ok - it's a little sad. I'm cool with that.

Friends started in 1994. So, let's put it in context - it's an old show: it is to today's high schoolers what Good Times was to me. Which is ... jarring.

But these old TV shows can serve as time capsules for us. The world changes subtly, in ways we don't notice. So looking back at a timely fiction and you'll probably get a better idea of how the world was when it was that world.

One thing that's struck me again and again watching these old episodes is how many jokes are of the homophobic variety. Joey and Chandler hug too much. Chandler doesn't understand sports. Etc. The show talked a good game about tolerance, but it treated homosexuality (male) as icky (to use Phoebe parlance).

Fortunately, that particular comedy trope is dead. For evidence, see the returns on any Adam Sandler movie post 2000. Despite the abhorrent votes in California and Arkansas, I really think we're getting closer and closer.

Of course, as I've said before, there's still plenty of homophobia in America (although I did read in a Trib Op Ed today that racism is done which I'd be all "Yay" about except the columnist is a dumbass). But I expect when my daughter is a grown woman, she'll be gobsmacked that the world was ever like this.

Budget Meeting Haiku

Annually, we have budget meetings. I hate them. Think of the most boring, horrible class you had in high school. This is worse, because you have to act like an adult and can't groan and roll your eyes. Much.

I amused myself by writing haiku.

A budget meeting
Eight employees fade in and out
Arms crossed, eyes akimbo

Projector humming
Distant, the people who dialed in
Oops! My bra is showing

Bladder becomes full
Powerpoint slides become blurry
Will to live depletes

His tone monotone
Long pauses punctuating
Shit! My bra still shows

Next year, I'm going to fake a head injury or something. Stomach cramp. Bleeding from the ears. SARS. Existential dilemma. Suicidal tendency. Tourette's. I dunno. Something.

Oh my

Ladies and Gentlemen: I present to you the greatest moment of revisionist history ever. Ever. EVER. Enjoy.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Guys vs Men

The Bushies were manly. The "democrat party" was for the ladies: weak, whining and hormonal. Republicans were MEN, dammit. Chest-thumping men. America, Fuck Yeah, men! They might pull every string in their daddy's arsenal to get out of fighting in a war, but, goddammit, they really fucking loved John Wayne movies! Who needs to walk the walk when you're such a pro at talking the talk?

(As example, I recommend you check out Kim du Toit's The Pussification of the Western Male.)

Consider the beer commercial: for years now beer commercials have been celebrating guy-ness, but guy-ness strictly defined as that which is not girl-ness. You can be bald, short, homeless and retarded and you'll still get invited to the cool kids party. But cry at a movie and you might as well put a bullet in your faggy chest.

Until this morning. I was driving to work and a beer commercial came on the radio. This beer commercial, like so many others, rewards the real guy with the real guy beer. But in this ad, real guy-ness is demonstrated when he helps his buddy haul a fridge upstairs.

In other words: manning up instead of freaking out about looking like a pussy.

I love that.

I don't want to go getting all brave new world here. But, think of Barack Obama. Does anything about that guy suggest a person who worries about whether people perceive him as manly or not? If you called Barack Obama a "fag" do you think he'd care? Do you expect we'll ever see him on a flight deck wearing a motherfucking codpiece? As Tweety might say, he's a real man. And real men don't need to prove to you that they're real men. They're too busy manning up and helping you move the goddamn fridge.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Oh yeah...

Saturday Night

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day* + 1/2 bottle of good white wine = YAAAAYYYY!!!!

* seriously, just a delightful flick.  Amy Adams could not be cuter and has Frances McDormand ever NOT been wonderful?

What's Your Thing?

So, I've been thinking about this a lot.  See, there's life and then there's life.  Here's what I mean: there's the kids and the job and the house.  That's the little "l" life.  And then there's the big "L" life, which is the kids and the job and the house and the air that you breathe and the leaves on the trees and how good pizza tastes and the overwhelming, aching, terrifying awareness that all of it is temporary.    

When it comes to little "l" life, you need something to take you out of it from time to time.  Big "L" life is overarching.  But for little "l" life, I rely on things like Carl Hiassen novels or playing the guitar or the much lamented Gilmore Girls.  And this blog. I can think of so many things that I escape into. And most of the people I love, I can think of their things: Football.  Reality TV. Young adult novels.  Facebook.  Exercise.  Cooking.  

I think it must be a hard life when there's not time for that escape, or even time to figure out what it is.  

So, what's your thing?  If you don't have one - better find it!


God, it's so great we can just be HONEST about it now!

Get the latest news satire and funny videos at 236.com.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Still can't believe it...

I was just reading an article on TPM, looking at a picture of President-Elect Barack Obama and it hit me, I still don't quite believe it.  Do you guys?


My Tennessee brother is havin' a rough week. I should not have urged anyone to goof on him.  If you feel the need to goof on someone, I highly recommend Joe Lieberman.  I recommend a phone call or an email which says only "smell ya later."

Now, that's eloquence we can believe in, my friends!

Four Days and Counting...

So, you know how on Fox they're always doing those silly countdowns?  They use them like dares? "Countdown until Barack Obama shows up on the Factor."  AKA: Barack Obama is a chicken.

Nonsense, right?

And I am SO not above resorting to similar silliness. 

Way back last summer I was sitting in my brother's back yard as he explained to me how there was no WAY Barack Obama was going to be president.  President McCain was imminent.*

So, thus begins the first ever MegBon Countdown; in which I count the number of days passed without my brother's acknowledgement of my rightness and his wrongness; indeed of my vastly superior political acumen.  I don't know if Nolan checks in here or not... but if you know him, let him know I'm calling him a chicken.

*Note that Nolan most certainly VOTED for Barack Obama.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Absolutely the last Sarah Palin post...

.... the more I think of it, the more I doubt the Africa-is-a-country thing. I mean, I still think that Sarah Palin is stupid. And mean. And bigoted. And an absolute slave to ambition. And as entitled a motherfucker as the current occupant. But the whole Africa-is-a-country thing is a bit much to believe.

I'm going to try to stop believing in things just because I want them to be true.

I think the only appropriate response is...

Smell ya later

is it just me?

Or is it Lindsay Lohan becoming likeable again? 

Last Sarah Palin post

I swear... I swear, I swear, I swear.  I am beyond ready for the Sarah Palin show to be dead and buried.  I eagerly await a world free of Sarah Palin (and Huey Lewis, but that's a post for another day). But I just can't resist this one last one. This is a video of Carl Cameron (who, to be fair, has been found often making stuff up, which is really weird for a Fox correspondent!) averring that Sarah Palin did not know Africa was a continent.  She thought it was a country.  Is that possible? 

Meh - who am I kidding.  Of COURSE it's possible.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Government Marriage

What do you think: can't the government just get out of the marriage business all together? It's just a loaded word.  Get married in a church.  Get unioned by the government.  I think this is more a matter of language than anything else.

I mean, don't get me wrong - there are some homophobic motherfuckers out there.  But, you have to own your homophobia to be against a civil union.  There is no polite society for "I don't think this lesbian should be able to visit her dying partner in the hospital*."

Forget trying to change the people - just change the language.  Get your government papers down at the city hall, gay or straight, and if your god wigs out over the gays, then get married in your miserable gayless church.

That's all I'm saying.

* This is sort of the go to anecdote for gay marriage advocates.  However, as I've said many times before, I think the eensy conveniences of every day life matter more.  Like when I rent a car, Don can drive it without having to present his driver's license to the Avis guy.  I think this is awesome.  

Post-Election Blog

Oy, I drank a lot last night.  I high-fived a lot of strangers.  I called my brother and yelled into his voicemail.  It was awesome.  In the end, I'm still not quite believing that we won.  But we did.  Really.

A couple of thoughts:  
I don't think it behooves us to forget that John McCain's campaign was predicated on fear: fear of Muslims, fear of people from the middle-east.  It was a deeply shameful campaign.  To those who suggest we move on and heal: no. Karl Rove, George Bush, Dick Cheney, John McCain and Sarah Palin have effectively dismantled the historic Republican platform of small government and personal responsibility and rebuilt it as one of race-baiting and fear-mongering.  Let's not forget that.  And let's hope that the Republicans out there start demanding better candidates.  It's great to win, but it scares me that the Sarah Palin show played to the delight of crowds.

56 million people voted for McCain/Palin.  56 millions. That is a LOT of people. I bet a chunk of those people are cowering in their beds today, waiting for the Manchurian Candidate to put on his turban and start in with the terrorizing.  I bet another chunk are expecting legislation requiring gay marriages and abortions for all.  I bet a lot of them are just plain old dumbfucks.

I'm joyful that my guy won.  I'm humbled and overwhelmed that my country elected as its leader the  guy who based his campaign on the belief that we can be better, the guy who actually seems to believe in crazy concepts like fundamental decency, democracy and, you know, science. But I'm still a little disappointed.  We didn't hit the trifecta.  Prop 8 passed.  In Arkansas, they think it's better to bounce kids around foster homes and group facilities than it is to let gay people adopt them.   Which is just such unremitting, unrelenting bullshit.

But, that said, there's something about the election of Barack Obama that gives me hope that these last hurdles to basic human rights will eventually be jumped.  I mean, y'all, think about it: President Barack Hussein Obama!

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

there are no words

... there really aren't

The Advent Wreath

To indicate how differently time passes as an adult, I present the Advent Wreath. For the four Sundays before Christmas, a different candle is lit.  Nowadays, the four weeks before Christmas pass by in a flash.  But when I was a kid, it took for-fucking-ever to get those damn candles lit. The wreath taunted you, tantalized you. Christmas was getting closer... but it took SO long.

This election feels like that.  It feels like we've been waiting so long, and it's so tantalizingly close.  Only, the Advent Wreath promised Christmas.  You knew it would be Christmas after those four candles were lit.  For this election, we either get Christmas.  Or we get, what?  The biggest disappointment of my life.  As though I'm 8 and expecting an E-Z Bake Oven and instead get a kick in the face, a fart in a box, a pen.  I don't know...

But I may be cracking up here. 

Monday, November 3, 2008

Real Americans

Here's this beautiful sad song by Guy Clark called Desparadoes Waiting for a Train.  

I can't help but to  think of Sarah Palin's "real Americans" when I hear this song. Imagine if you take her untrammeled, shameless bullshit and then examine its root as something authentic.  This is what you get. The romance of real America is a lot quieter than, say, shooting wolves out of helicopters.  Or at least I think so...

Day Before Election Haiku

Now the end is near
Wary calm to gross panic
Obama will win... ?