I Can't Complain

Vote Early and Often

Well, I voted early, but they'd only let me vote once. I think that's kind of selfish of them, really. I mean, I was willing to get back on line and wait my turn again.

It was kind of slim pickings here in South Carolina this time around. The governor's race could be interesting, but I fear our poor excuse for a Sarah Palin clone (and *that's* sayin' something people) is going to win that one by virtue of her mediocre looks, questionable morals and ability to speak without actually saying (or knowing) anything. See, the other guy is a *gasp* *horrors* trial lawyer. Which of course means he's dishonest, unfaithful and only out for himself. Oh wait, that's her again...

But I digress... I'm not here to talk about politics, I'm here to talk about the political process. Specifically, the political process of going to vote in my particular ward. The polling place in my ward is staffed primarily by retired members of the church in which the polling place is located. And when I say retired, I mean they're collecting their pension from the Confederate Army. And those are the younger ones.  The poll workers in my ward take their duties very seriously, and they should - it's an important job, and it has to be done according to the rules to ensure that everyone's vote is counted, and counts.

That said, I sometimes worry they might be taking their jobs just the teensiest bit too seriously. See, every year I pretty much go through the same song and dance with them.  I hand them my ID and they look at my last name, which starts, in my humble opinion, with three perfectly reasonable letters organized in a mildly unexpected fashion. Specifically, G-N-I. In that order. So I hand them my ID, which in years past has been my driver's license, they look at my  name, and flip to the page of registered voters whose names start with G-I-N. They scan up and down a few times, and then say "dear, are you sure you're registered to vote? In THIS ward?"     

The first year, I leaned over to point to where the G-N-I names (all one of them) should be and apparently got my finger too close to the list.  The poll worker snapped "don't TOUCH THAT," growled at me and bared her teeth, which were ragged and covered with the blood of the last person who tried to touch the list of registered voters. (Okay, I made part of that up. But only part of it.)

This year I decided to avoid the assumption that I am either lost or trying to defraud the people of South Carolina by voting without registering, so I brought my voter registration card with me. Faced with the evidence that I am clearly registered and in the right place, the poll worker had no choice but to scan up and down the list, over and over, among the G-I-N voters, looking for my name. After a minute or so of watching her scan the same spot on the list, I leaned over, keeping my hands safely behind my back, and muttered "it's G-N-I"  She glared briefly at me, presumably for telling her how to do her job, but then miraculously realized that my name would not be found on the page with the G-I-Ns, and flipped to the correct page, where she immediately located my name, just below the G-Ls and above the G-Os. How about that?

Anyway, I voted, despite the slim pickings (the Senate race was particularly difficult) and got my I Voted sticker, which is really the only reason I vote. Well, that and I like to complain about the government, and I'm pretty sure you can't do that unless you've actually taken part in the process.

So go vote! Get a sticker! And try not to lose any fingers, mkay?

Adding Insult to Arthritis

A few years ago I somehow got onto the mailing lists for various organizations geared toward older people.  (I suspect that somewhere along the way I gave some website a fake birth date because I didn't trust them not to sell my information.  And lookee there, I was right! But I digress.)  Since then I've been getting various bits of junk mail from pre-need funeral planning companies, those insurance companies that offer guaranteed term life insurance "regardless of your age or health!" and Medicare Part B and prescription drug plan providers.  I also get offers to join AARP about twice a month, plus another two or three AARP credit card offers each month. Honestly, real senior citizens must get exhausted just from opening their junk mail.

Anyway, sometimes I sigh and wish a large-ish portion of the junk mail community didn't think I'm over 65. Mostly I just laugh, toss the stuff in the trash and move on, although I am starting to get a little scared that AARP might send some kind of goon squad to my house if I don't sign up soon.  But the other day, I got something in the mail that really made me cringe:

It's bad enough they think I'm a senior citizen, but apparently they think I'm a CONSERVATIVE senior citizen to boot!  I swear, if I start getting junk mail from Michael Savage or Rush Limbaugh, I'm going to have to throw my bottle of Geritol at someone and then beat them with my cane.

Wings On a Pig*

There's been a lot of talk the past couple of days about the swine flu. And although there's clearly some cause for concern, there's also more than a little hysteria, overreaction, and downright silliness swirling around.  I've read and heard a lot of people saying ridiculous things, but I think this might very well top them all. Rep. Michelle Bachmann (R-MN) gave an interview today in which she had this to say about the swine flu:

"I find it interesting that it was back in the 1970s that the swine flu broke out then under another Democrat president Jimmy Carter. And I'm not blaming this on President Obama, I just think it's an interesting coincidence."

First of all, if you're not trying to imply something about a connection between a Democratic administration and a swine flu outbreak, why even bring this up?

Second, correlation does not equal causation, so even if this were true, it would be nothing more than a meaningless confluence of facts. And in that case, see number one, above.  Which leads me to my final point...

The last swine flu outbreak was in 1976, under Gerald Ford. Who, last I checked, was a Republican.

Honestly, if you're going to make veiled conspiracy theory comments in an attempt to discredit the president, the least you could do is make sure you're actually correct before you do it. Otherwise you just reveal yourself for the ill-informed moron you are.

*The title of this post is part of a quote from Bill Clinton: "You can put wings on a pig, but you don't make it an eagle."  While I was checking the exact language of that quote, I came across another one, also from Bill Clinton, which seems so very apropos: "“I like that about the Republicans; the evidence does not faze them, they are not bothered at all by the facts."

Let Us Eat Lettuce

First a swingset, now a vegetable garden! Today Michelle Obama and a group of elementary school students broke ground on the new White House kitchen garden. How cool is that? 

 
It's going to be 1100 square feet (which, incidentally, is almost twice the size of our apartment in NYC) and include vegetables, berries and herbs, will also be home to two beehives.  There won't be any beets, though, since President Obama apparently doesn't like them. I knew he was a wise man. The garden will be planted with organic seedlings, and tended with organic fertilizer and organic insect repellent.

I dig (hah, dig! Get it?) the symbolism of the whole thing, and I love what is says about healthy eating.  Not only that, but it's made me really excited to get started in my own vegetable garden. It's still a little too early to plant here, but poring over my gardening books and choosing my vegetables is one of my favorite parts of my annual gardening ritual.  Once I start doing that, it seems like spring is really here!

Oh, and speaking of the swingset, the day after the original swingset post, I came across this screenshot posted on Jezebel:

In case you can't tell, that's Michelle Obama on the far swing. I love it.

Swinging, Swinging

As if I already didn't have a big enough crush on President Obama (and okay, I kinda have a crush on the First Lady, too), this morning the news was full of reports about the new White House swing set. The Obamas surprised their daughters with it yesterday afternoon. The girls "squealed with delight" when they saw it, according to Michelle Obama's spokeswoman (as an aside, for some reason getting a report of squealing through a spokesperson totally made me laugh), and then played on it for an hour, despite the chilly DC weather.   The swing set has been set up outside the Oval Office, so that the president can see them on it when he's there.  And it's a good one; not too showy, but with plenty of fun stuff to do:

Also installed was a picnic table with brass plaques inscribed with the names of all 44 presidents.  How cool is this?  Aside from the fact that I totally want one of these for myself....er... I mean for the H-bomb, I LOVE that there are small children in the White House. To me, this happy young family brings a sorely missing energy to our country's leadership.  Just seeing pictures of them makes me feel hopeful, even amid the problems we're experiencing.

In fact, I saw these pictures (from the AP) this morning, and they've pretty much made me smile all day:

This totally looks like something Larry and I would do - he'd do something silly, and I'd be all "quit being such a dork, and go run the country, would you?'

I Bet That's Disappointing

I think I mentioned the other day that I am obsessed with my blog stats, and especially the site referrers.  In addition to checking out Google searches that lead to my blog, I also like seeing when someone new pokes around the blog for a bit. I've noticed that almost invariably, when people start looking at the old posts by category, they go to the one labeled "A Nice Piece of Ass" first.  Which is funny to me because that's the category I use for my political posts. It's a reference to this:

I imagine the people that head there first are NOT necessarily expecting to see my thoughts on the recent election or my glee over Rick Santorum losing his Senate seat. It's a little disturbing to try and guess what they were hoping to see, so I'll just leave it at this... Get your minds out of the gutter, you pervs! ;-)

Proud To Be An American

I've seen a lots of comments over the last few days from people who claim they don't understand the statements from people saying they're finally proud to be an American again.  Frankly, I can't decide if most of these people are being deliberately obtuse, or if they truly don't understand that race and discrimination are issues in this country.  Being willfully blind to an issue doesn't make it disappear, nor does loudly proclaiming that you've never seen any problems.  But just in case people honestly don't understand what a momentous occasion this is, let me see if I can explain.

Three doors down from us there's a great couple - she's from Harrisburg, PA, and he's from Paris, France.  He is very French; he enthusiastically celebrates Bastille Day, kisses me on both cheeks whenever he sees me, and speaks lovingly of Paris in that way only Parisians can.  Despite his essential Frenchness, it turns out he's also avidly interested in American politics, and during the election he could frequently be found discussing politics with friends, neighbors and complete strangers.

The day after the election, I ran into him on the sidewalk outside my house. Instead of giving me the usual double-cheek kiss, he grabbed me in a big bear hug, and burst into tears of joy.  "Isn't it wonderful! I can't believe we did it!"  I was surprised he was so emotional, because I assumed that the nations of Europe were already far ahead of us in such things.  But he told me that in France, black men are not elected to even minor political positions, much less president.  "But here," he said, "anything is possible. ANYTHING."

And this, my friends, is why today I am more proud to be an American than I was before November 4, 2008.  THIS is what our country was built on, and something that I've felt we were lacking in recent years.  But now...anything is possible. Anything.

Inauguration Day

Barack Obama is the 44th President of the United States. I have so much to say, and so many emotions and thoughts running around in my head, but I can hardly form a coherent thought through my overwhelming joy.  When I look at Obama, his wife and his children, I wonder how they can contain themselves as well as they have, when I want to simultaneously burst into tears and cheer at the top of my lungs.

Regardless of what you think of his politics, today is a historic day. Today is the day when every child who has ever been told that someday he might grow up to be president knows that it really is possible.  This has been one of the common themes surrounding Obama's election, but to be honest, until recently I never truly understood that some people didn't believe that they could do anything they wanted.

H's daycare is made up primarily of black families, black teachers and staff members and a black administration, and is operated by a similarly configured church.  (By "primarily" I mean that of 50 or 60 families that have children there, two are white, including us. )  For the last month, there has been a huge display of Barack Obama surrounded by pictures of the kids in the four year-old class, each with a caption: "Future Doctor" "Future Lawyer" "Future CEO".  For many of the grandparents and parents of H's classmates, becoming a lawyer or a doctor or a political leader wasn't a foregone conclusion. Many people, too many, have grown up in this country with the knowledge that no matter what their skills or how hard they worked, they might be prevented from achieving their dream simply because of their race. Today I think we take a huge step toward changing this.

Do I think everything is going to be different starting today?  Of course not. We have a long road ahead, and we live in troubled times. But today, for the first time in quite a long time, I am happy and proud to be an American.

I usually like to end my blogs with some pithy statement, but today I think the White House website says it best:

Five Things That Are On My Mind

1. The word definitely.  Proper spelling of that word requires two of the letter E, two of the letter I and NONE of the letter A.  Let me say it again. There are NO As in the word definitely. If you're not sure about the proper placement of the other vowels, feel free to consult your local spell-checker. I assure you, whatever email reader, word processor or blog composer software you're using has one. Find it. Thank you.

2. Rain. People of South Carolina, that wet stuff falling from the sky? It's just rain. It's not snow, sleet, a rain of toads or a plague of locusts. It's just rain.  There is no reason you should all be slowing down to 5 MPH because of it, and I don't appreciate my 2.5 mile drive home taking 20 minutes, especially when my gas tank is on empty. (I know I've mentioned this before, but honestly it drives me crazy every time.)

3. And while I'm on the subject of gas tanks. Yes, I drive a small car. Yes, I get good gas mileage. If you drove a Beetle instead of your Ford Enormo or your Chevy Drill-In-the-Arctic-Wilderness, you'd get good gas mileage too. Please do not ask me what kind of mileage I get and then make snide remarks about the size, shape or color of my car when I tell you. It just makes you look bitter and angry, and it's still going to cost you $100 a week to drive your car. Don't hate, it's ugly.

4. John McCain and Sarah Palin. In case you two haven't figured it out, no one wants to hear you point fingers and scream about who voted for what and when. I'm not an idiot, and this is politics in the internet age. I can easily find out whether you're stretching the truth or flat out lying (and you all too frequently are). How about talking about the real issues? I'm not voting for you regardless, but at least I wouldn't find you so offensive.

5. Paper gowns. We can send people to space and back with almost the same ease as flying across the country, we can transplant organs from one person to another, we can collide opposing beams of protons at almost the speed of light. WHY, for the love all that is holy, can we not think of something better than a huge piece of very thin paper to give people to wear at the gynecologist's office? Isn't putting your feet in the damn stirrups bad enough? Why do we have to do it while wearing a giant piece of tissue paper?

Wading Into the Fray

In the interest of full disclosure, let me just start this by saying that I'm a Democrat and have been all my life.   I'm also a feminist, a female professional in what is still largely a man's profession, a working mother and one of "those" non-name-changers. With that out of the way, let's talk about Sarah Palin.

There are a lot of things to dislike about John McCain's choice of Sarah Palin as his running mate.  For example, the idea that women are so easily swayed that a woman who supported Hillary Clinton for president would vote for McCain/Palin simply because of Palin's gender.  As if women are so brainless that they choose their candidates based entirely on the fact that they have the same reproductive organs.  It is mind-boggling to me that  anyone who supported Clinton would ever vote for someone like Palin, who basically believes the opposite of everything Clinton believes in. Palin's lack of experience, her eagerness to drill in the arctic wilderness, her doubt about global warming, her record with respect to earmarks, and her stance on sex education are all things I am happy to criticize, loudly and to anyone who will listen. 

But the one thing I absolutely cannot abide are the questions about who is caring for her children, specifically her infant, while she's on the campaign trail.  If Sarah Palin were a man, even a man with a special needs child like Palin's, NO ONE would think of commenting on his parenting choices or asking why he wasn't home with his child. No one would  ever posit that he wasn't fit, prepared for or able to perform whatever office he was running for, since he couldn't or wouldn't properly care for his own child.   Comments about who is home with Palin's baby while she's out campaigning?  Those right there are sexism and discrimination at their very worst.  And those of you who may be reading this and assuring yourselves that you would, in fact, have asked those questions of a man? I'm sorry, but I call bullshit.  If  Sarah Palin were a man, the thought would never cross anyone's mind to ask who was home with his children.  Why? Because everyone would assume his *wife* was home with his children. 

It's 2008, people. It's time to stop assuming that everyone's life should be just like yours, or worse yet, just like some 50s sitcom version of life. There's a lot wrong with Sarah Palin as a candidate. The fact that she wants to have a family and a career, even a high-powered, high-profile career, just isn't one of those things.