.... 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.
Monday, June 30, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, June 27, 2008
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...
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...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
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:
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.
- pretty
- sweet
- married.
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.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
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!
Monday, June 23, 2008
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.
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.
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