Carnivores and English People

In the early aughties I found myself in beautiful, historic York for a work trip.  The number of per capita drinking establishments in York makes Chicago look like Carrie Nation's wet dream. It's awesome.  Every night after work, I'd hit the pubs with my British colleagues.  The first night, someone made a joke about Americans having a world series with only one country in it.  Uproarious laughter among the Brits.  I responded (amusing no one but myself) that, to be fair, sometimes there are two countries in the World Series.  

The next night someone made the same joke.  And the next.  And the next.  And each time, the Brit making the joke was sure he was the first one to goof on an American with it. The more it was repeated, the less of its already limited punch it had.

"Look, English people," I thought, "I'm neither embarrassed or humiliated on behalf of my country (well, for the World Series thing anyway).  But your eager recitals of the same joke are kind of adorable."

Which brings me to the carnivore thing:  Over the past 10 years of my vegetarianism, I've been greeted with the "you probably need protein" joke a million times.  Usually it comes in some variation of "you don't like meat because you need protein." And hilarity ensues. It's like the World Series joke, with legumes standing in for Canada (probably not for the first time). The jokester amuses like-minded people without having any particular effect on the person he aims to disparage.  Which is fine, it's just not particularly clever. 

I thought carnivores and English people should know.  You're welcome.

Voting Day

Since we got Laney, and even before, DonBon and I have made voting an event. Don, who will have worked late the night before, will get up with me and Laney. Around 7:00ish we'll walk over to the polling place and vote. Afterwards, Don drives Laney to school and me to work and we eat donuts in the car on the way.

Don and I are no spring chickens, but I think we both still get geeked up for voting. It's always surprised me that there are people for whom voting is an obligation. Nothing makes me love my country more, feel more patriotic, then going into a voting booth and casting my vote. Plus: donuts!

My Laney is going to feel good about voting. We're making it something fun.

All that said, I wish we'd done more. We didn't phone bank or knock on doors (go, Janine!). I never even got around to sending my damn postcards. I gave money, and worked to encourage people I know who were on the fence. But I should have done more. If McCain pulls this out I'll feel enormous responsibility.

And Rachel Maddow is on my TV, showing how it's done - showing how you can still hold the feet of the candidate you support to the fire (with Barack showing how you politic with your feet to the fire). And she thinks this thing is far from wrapped up. She's brilliant. God, I hope she's wrong on this one, though.

Freaking Out

I am freaking out. Last night I went to see Amadeus at Chicago Shakespeare. Excellent production. It finally occurred to me that the word "Amadeus" has something to do with love and God, so that only took 25 years or so. Then I went home, had some pizza with the husband and poured myself a Maker's Mark. Don proceeded to expound on his theory on how McCain could steal the election. In the background, I hear Rachel Maddow say something about how she thinks McCain has a good chance. Thus begins the Freaking. The. Fuck. Out.

I got into bed and watched Pushing Daisies, which is all whimsical and pretty. But it ended and I was still all twitterpated and nervous. I began doing breathing exercises and mentally repeating the mantra "Barack Obama is smarter than you. Barack Obama is smarter than Don (sorry, honey). Barack Obama is smarter than Rachel Maddow (I think)." Finally, I drifted off into a fitful sleep.

I'd love to do a media blackout until Tuesday. I'd love to turn my attention to books and puzzles and long baths. But I know myself and am sure to be found, of an evening, standing in my kitchen watching MSNBC. Freaking. Out.
Why can't it be Tuesday today?

KITH

This sketch used to really remind me a lot of George Bush. Now Sarah Palin makes me think of it. Sarah Bush. George Palin. It's very confusing...

Worse than that dream where you're naked in class

Sorry guys:

Rachel Maddow

Air America Radio was launched in 2004. I was on board from the get go. I tuned into Al Franken every day at lunch time and left it going through the next show, the Randi Rhodes show. At first I liked her, and then I got annoyed. Despite my own propensity in that direction, yelling over people is annoying.

Then I started tuning in earlier and listening to the show with Chuck D, Lizz Winstead and this woman I'd never heard of named Rachel Maddow. Here was a pundit who was passionate without being strident. She relied on one weapon: knowing more than the other guy.



And here she is now, kicking ass and taking names. This is (good lord willing and the creek don't rise) a good time to be a democrat. And I think the emergence of Rachel Maddow has something to do with that. You can't win the wingnut game, so don't play it. Make it a new game where the winning gambit is to be informed. Thus you always face the wingnut. Like this:

Toot

For a whole host of reason, I've been finding myself feeling really sad that it looks like none of the people who raised Barack Obama will be around to see him win this thing (I just did a jinx dance). Five years after my own father died, my daughter will do something and I find myself feeling cheated that her grandfather never got to know her... didn't get to see her like she was this morning reading four-digit numbers aloud (she's got a great teacher). I feel cheated knowing how proud he'd be of me when he saw this amazing kid we're raising.

This is the saddest fact of life, I think, that it goes on without us. Also the most joyful. This is what faith means to me: that even without our presence, life goes on. And, as my personal hero would say: the effects of our lives are incalculably diffusive.

And I read this beautiful blogpost by a blogger I like a lot named Ta-Neishi Coates. It was more relevant to what I was thinking before I started writing. But I think you'd like it... whoever you are.