Time's Arrow

I feel like I used to be better at time.  I used to have a little kid who required a lot of attention, which I happily gave.  Now I have a tween kid whom I rarely see because, I believe, she has some sort of inter-dimensional portal in her room that takes her to a land of magic and wonder - a place where there are no Trumps and wifi fucking everywhere.  I used to update my blog a couple of times a week and managed to find time to write a book.  Now I just hit this blog monthly or so when something big happens like Don turns 50 or I come up with some elaborately strained metaphor.  Once I found the time (and it was so much time) to learn how to play Moonlight Sonata on my cute little spinet.  Now I can barely be bothered to get to the end of a song on Spotify before I skip to the next one.

Is this a symptom of age?  I thought when we got older we were supposed to be better at this kind of stuff.  Actually, I thought we were supposed to be better at all the stuff except maybe metabolizing food. It turns out you retain amateur status well into mid-life.  What's up with that?

I believe I've written about this here before, but help me out: once I read this book about a town where everything was real nice and then out of nowhere these furtive strangers showed up. I can't remember the name of the story (which is what I'm hoping you'll help me out with), but I picture the strangers looking like the evil aliens from Star Trek TNG's Time's Arrow.  Here's a visual if you're not cool enough (that's right!  I said "cool enough") to know without one:

The furtive strangers made bargains with the townspeople.  They'd grant you one of your dearest wishes in exchange for a little of your time.  But you wouldn't remember making the deal.  Instead, all of the sudden you'd just have less time. But then you'd make another wish and then have less time.  And so everyone started rushing everywhere and no one knew why. And the nice little town was no longer a nice town. There was one hold-out, though.  One guy refused to make the deal and, instead, just slowly spent his days sweeping the streets, with all the time in the world.  Have you read this story?  And, if you have, what was it?  Also, did you wonder why the one hold-out didn't think of something better to do with all his ample time than sweep the damn street?  I mean Beethoven wrote a TON of stuff he could have taken the time to learn to play.  He could have read Ulysses.

I have no plans to spend what little time I have left after I've traded so much to the Time Bandits or whatever on Ulysses. I started it once.  I'm pretty sure Joyce is playing some kind of an elaborate practical joke.

(Was the story I'm thinking of Time Bandits?  That was a movie, right?  Did they steal time in that movie?  Was there a guy sweeping the streets, strangely pleased with his weird career choice?)

I suppose the secret is, as it is so often, to quit worrying about it so much.  Also: aggressive scheduling.  It's a bit hard to put those two things together.  Aggressive scheduling does not, generally, pair well with a laissez-faire attitude. But I'm confident I can figure it out.

After all, I'm the only one of you dummies smart enough to have sussed out that James Joyce was just fucking with us on that whole Ulysses thing.

Right?

Conversations Around the Bon House

Scene: MegBon is in the kitchen, tidying up while watching Archer.  DonBon wanders in to watch Archer or procrastinate before going to work out (column a... column b....)





MegBon (pauses TV): You know what's great about this modern world?
DonBon: What?
MegBon: When you're watching Archer and a guest actor's voice is so familiar and it's bugging you, but you just have to pull out your phone and you find out it's Keith David.  And Keith David is amazing.
DonBon: Keith David is Archer?
MegBon: No.  Keith David was Lana's father.  You may remember him from such films as They Live
DonBon: ??
MegBon: I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass.  And I'm all out of bubblegum
DonBon: I do remember him from coming into the health club when I worked there.
MegBon: Really?  Was he nice?  He seems nice.
DonBon: Yeah...
MegBon: Was he funny? I bet he was funny.
DonBon: What I remember is that he walked around the health club in a towel and flip flops
MegBon: ??
DonBon: Like he'd come into the bar wearing a towel and flip flops, sit down at the bar and say "I like this place.  Why don't they have places like this in L.A.?"
MegBon: Did you see his thing?
DonBon: I didn't look.  But I noticed that a lot of the women were looking at him and, like, nodding.
MegBon: So Keith David probably has a pretty nice penis.
DonBon:  Seems like it

The moral of this story is that the internet can tell you Keith David's roles, but you need DonBon to tell you what the health club ladies were thinking when confronted with Keith David's casual deshabille: 

Happy Birthday to Me: The Quilt

On Don's last birthday we went to a Friday night showing of Deadpool, where we had a solid 20 years on just about everyone else in the theater. But it was cool. We're cool.  We had a good time and laughed at the jokes and got them all (I think).  At dinner afterwards, we were talking about the music in the movie and I said, "You know, everyone laughed when they played Careless Whisper, but we were the only ones there who had real memories attached to that song - so we got it more. Dammit."

Don then told me a story about dancing with a girl to that song at some long distant school dance, and trying to hide, er, just how much he was enjoying the dance with her.

We had some fun memories over old 80s songs.

So, I have this theory about aging... but first, let's be honest: In almost every way, aging sucks.  My back hurts, and my skin is no where near as fabulous as it used to be.  My neck is a little crepe-y (this is the thing I hate the most).  Everything makes me fat.  No one on TV is ever trying to sell me anything cool anymore.

On the other hand, I have all this past to wrap up around me.

Look: please forgive me now for what is fixing to be a super schlocky metaphor.  I hate schlock.  I am not sentimental. I hate schmaltzy facile bullshit that aims to soothe through oversimplification.  But maybe this isn't bullshitty and, fuck it, it's my birthday and I get to air out my secret shameful schlocky metaphor that I've been thinking on for a while.

So, here goes with the Quilt Theory (I mean it's so schlocky, the metaphor is built on QUILTS):  I sometimes find myself feeling like all the experiences I've had are like patches on a quilt and I've spent the past 47 years building up moments that are stitched up into a past that I can wrap up all around me and it's warming and wonderful.

When I hear Careless Whisper, I get to think "I was there!  I was there for that song, for that moment.  It's real."  This doesn't make the reference less funny in Deadpool - but it means I got to go to a place there that the young folks in the theater didn't.

I can hear songs, or see patterns, or feel something in the air that takes me back to some moment and rather than feel sad that it's over, I get to feel lucky that I got to be there.

I got to be there.  There is something soothing, maybe even a little miraculously so, about about having more past - I've got a bigger quilt.

So I don't feel bad about getting older since there are all these moments I've had and still more to come.  Although (full credit to the late, lamented Nora Ephron), I do feel bad about my neck.  But I have George Michael.  And it's not that we could have been so good together. We were!

Happy birthday to me!

Obama Derangement Syndrome in Full Force, Sigh, Again

Oh, man, I'm so tired!  I was all ready to pour myself a whiskey and get in bed and watch a little Good Wife (so so good) and then fall blissfully into sleep. But, like a damn fool,  I trawled through Facebook, read some comments I shouldn't have and ran right into a whole shitstorm of ginned up rightwing outrage because Barack Obama is not going to Nancy Reagan's funeral. And, you all know, I have a hard time sittin' here and letting people be wrong. Especially when Google is just right there!

I mean we just did this like two week's ago over Scalia's funeral, with Matt Drudge and the Breitbart flacks going into full tizzy because Obama was skipping this funeral to go golfing or because he was too busy giving free cell phones to welfare queens or something. And it didn't matter that lots of presidents have not gone to lots of Justice's funerals because if Obama is skipping it, it's because he's like a school in summer (is it OK to make Fat Albert references?  Did we discuss this in the last Liberal Bloggers meeting?)

I really do get so awfully tired of the knee-jerk outrage that comes with Obama Derangement Syndrome. And no matter how tired I am, I'm just not gonna sit there and let people stew in their smug wrong wrong wrongitiness especially when Google is just right there!!! 

• Betty Ford, funeral July 8, 2011 - Attended by Michelle Obama, but not Barack.
• Pat Nixon, funeral June 26, 1993 - Was not attended by either Bill or Hillary Clinton
• Ladybird Johnson, funeral July 14, 2007 - Attended by Barbara Bush, but not George.
• Jackie Kennedy Onassis, funeral May 23, 1993 - Jackie got a presidential visit at her funeral.  Bill Clinton delivered her eulogy
• Mamie Eisenhower, funeral around Nov 1, 1979 - Attended by Rosalyn Carter, but not Jimmy Carter. Also, for what it's worth, was not attended by either Nancy or Ronald Reagan who were both surely pretty aware that they were fixing to be the first couple.

I am reminded of a quip by Al Sharpton: If Barack Obama walked on water, they'd say "see I told you he couldn't swim."

Here's one from me: If Barack Obama cured cancer, the Romney-wing of the GOP would complain that he was taking away an income stream for oncologists.  The Trump wing of the GOP would complain that he didn't care about diabetes.

You are entitled to your opinion of Barack Obama.  If you're one of those people who are agog at how horrible his presidency has been,  you get to be.  I mean, I think you're spectacularly misguided in that opinion as he's done a helluva job presidentin' under extraordinarily difficult circumstances (and by that, you know, I mean an intransigent Republican congress that is full of actual crazy people). But "classless" is a weird thing to dislike about him.

As a matter of fact: if your beef with Barack Obama is that he's "classless," I'd recommend you take a good hard look at why you think that because, friend, from what I've seen most of the people calling Barack Obama "classless" have a real bad case of projection syndrome.

A Gif-Less Political Bloggity

I would like to pretend that I am the gif whisperer and that as I compose these little bloggities, I consult a directory of neatly filed gifs and insert them accordingly.  But, really, the gif search is usually the most time-consuming part of any post.

There.  Have a little inside Shouting Down the Well baseball.  I am not a gif master.  I'm merely a pretender to the gif throne.  But even as a pretender, I can have strong feelings.  Gif is pronounced with a hard G like "gift" not a soft g like "giraffe." I don't care what anyone says.  Hard G.  Not soft.  Are we all in agreement?  No? You're wrong, I'm right.  And don't even get me started in dah-ta again.  DAY-ta.  Dammit.

And now I'm gonna tell you who I'm voting for and why. I was going to avoid writing about it for the whole season, but  I've been composing this bloggity within the dark recesses of my own damn brain for a while now and it's time to get it out since, you know, better out than in.

I like Bernie Sanders.  I like him a lot.  I think he's a good man and a skilled politician and has great ideas and if he happens to win the nomination, I will send him a check, put a Bernie sticker on the back of my car and vote for him gladly.

But I'm pulling the lever for Hillary and am doing so for the following two reasons.

Reason the First: She is Tenacious and Tough.

I've been following Hillary Clinton since 1991. In that time, she's been called a castrating bitch and a murderer.  She's been the star of a host of tabloid lesbian scandals. Remember Whitewater? How was Whitewater even a thing?  Whitewater was ridiculous!  Her hair, her wardrobe, her manner of walking and speaking, what she was like as a parent, as a wife - all these things have been viciously attacked and she is still standing.  She is Tubthumping.  What does Donald Trump have left to throw at her?  What does the establishment right have left to throw at her?  They've thrown it all at her and she's still standing.

I cannot tell you how much I admire that.  She's got ovaries of steel.  I want to hide under the bed when someone disagrees politely with me on a Facebook post!  

Reason the Second: Her Policy Proposals are Practical

I like Bernie's policy ideas a lot.  I would love to live in the Scandinavian paradise he so rightly advocates for.  Of course we can pay for the things he proposes. His policies make sound fiscal and moral sense.  But I also remember the Obamacare Death March of 2010. Do you?  Do you guys remember that?  How fucking crazy was that?  The sheer amount of political will it took just to get that limited, flawed plan in place?

Free college for all?  Single payer?  That's not going to happen with our gerrymandered, fractured, fucked up, broken congress. Sanders can explain why it's better, he can explain how to pay for it - what he can't explain is how to get it passed.  And again, I know he's a skilled pol - but this ain't about adding amendments to bills. This is a revolution.  And we could use one.  But if we're gonna revolt through the presidency, we're gonna need a whole new Congress to go along with it.

When it comes down to it, Hillary and Bernie are pretty close on the issues.  But Hillary wants to build on what's been done so far, and Bernie wants to start over and get something better. I'm betting that Hillary is more likely to get her plan done.

I sure would like some democratic socialism.  But the path towards that is not via the presidency.  It's via Congress.  We should get this fired up during mid-terms and the like. We should be GOTV in the boring elections.  Let's remember that in 2018.

Passionate Bernie Fan, I get it.  I like your guy a lot.  I thought long and hard about pulling the lever for him, but I have more confidence in Hillary.  I certainly won't think any less of you for sticking with your convictions and voting for the candidate who speaks to you, who you believe it.  And I would hope that all of us on the left would afford one another the same courtesy.  But if you can't, that's OK.  I was the same way about Hillary in 2008 as you are about her now, which makes it sort of amazing how much I like her now.  Must be an Obama-effect (fwiw, I continue to really like Obama too and wish I could just vote for him again).

One more thing, Passionate Bernie Fan, just one more thing: I want a woman president.  And if you poo poo that - if you say stupid shit like "having a uterus doesn't qualify you for the presidency" I'm gonna go full on Season 6 Willow - black eyes, spinning head, the whole nine yards.  It Matters.  It isn't why I'm voting for Hillary Clinton - but it is important.  And it pisses me off more than you can imagine when you dismiss it or claim you'd like a woman president but only the woman who isn't fucking running.  Urgh.  Stop doing that!

That is all.  I'm pulling the lever for Hillary.

This is Not About Kanye

Look - you hate Kanye West.  I get it.  I enjoy him as an artist but it is no stretch for me to comprehend the haterade. Dude's an asshole. I get it.

But I cannot anymore with a certain anti-Kanye meme.  Shall we stroll through a meadow of tough guys together?

Chuck Norris, we know how you feel about President Obama.  Do you have any thoughts on Kanye West?

Clint Eastwood, you've made some really excellent movies and some questionable appearances at GOP Conventions.  What do you think of Kanye West?

Are you one of those guys from that show about the motorcycle gang with a Shakespearian scope?  I think you are.  I plan on watching your show soon!  Can you tell me what you think of Kanye West?

Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you while you're protecting our freedoms, but could you take a quick break and give me your thoughts on Kanye West?

 

Sigh.  

I've gathered up some of my best gal pals with some advice for men who giggle and hit "share" when they see that meme.  Gaga, what should these fellows do?

Rachel from Friends, would you like to say anything to the sharers of that meme?

Christina, do you have any final messages?

In a nutshell: when you want to insult someone by calling him a girl, you are not insulting him, you are insulting GIRLS!  You are saying that being a girl is a lame thing to be.  It's not funny.  It's not cool.  It's not badass.  It's sexist AF.

Stop doing that. 

Ron Swanson, sometimes the manly men struggle with accepting advice from ladies.  Could you brush off your mustachioed Y chromosome and give some advice to the nice man with an urge to share the "Kanye West? Never heard of her" meme?

That is all.  

For Donny Bonny

It's  Don's birthday in a couple of hours.  And I just thought I'd take to my blog to let you know that I got the best husband.  To me, he is just shy of:

Don is smart and he is funny and he is very very sweet.

Don is one of those Dads (those rare, wonderful Dads) who is raising a daughter that will pick good a man for herself.  We have a daughter that will pick a man who will love her and like her and be nice to her.  She'll pick a man who won't need her to be like this or like that so that he feels like more of a man.  She'll pick a man who's man enough to never feel a need to prove he's a man.

Or maybe she won't pick a man at all, but she'll have a dad who will love her and like her if she picks a woman or if she picks herself.

Don isn't really:

He rarely replaces the toilet paper roll and he steps out of his shoes upon entering the house and then just leaves them there. There would be a mountain of dirty socks by his side of the bed if I didn't pick them up. But those are his sins and they are not hardly grave.  

Don always has my back.  He is always on my side.   If I need a hug or need someone to tell me that I'm OK, I can ask and he'll open his arms and tell me he loves me.  And it is no small thing when someone like Don loves you.

Don knows a lot of really interesting things.  We would crush at any trivia night because our store of knowledge is divergent and crosses a lot of topics. But if Don doesn't know, he might make it up.  Don is really good at making it up and you might find believe him even though what he says strains credulity. But if you ask him it's true and it's not, he'll laugh and tell you the truth.  He's not a liar.  But he's a really good story teller.  

For me, Don is:

And I love him a whole awful lot.  I couldn't have picked a perfecter partner for this path through life.  I love his brain and his heart and his goofy smile and I can't wait to be home tomorrow to celebrate his birthday with him.

Here's to you, baby.  I think you're:

But, you know, replacing the toilet paper roll wouldn't kill you...