Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Free-Floating Anger
A few years ago, the movie The Core showed static electricity building up and discharging, suddenly, unpredictably, and with horrific consequences, at in electrical superstorms at random sites all over the world. These devastating electrical storms destroyed the Roman Colosseum and San Francisco.
I feel the static emotional electricity building as I type.
It's not a good or a comfortable feeling.
People are mad as hell about the actions of government in the last month, and all that anger is floating above our heads, a malevolent cloud seeking a path --- any path --- to ground.
The Octo-Mom is attracting some of the energy --- the violent and sickly imaginative death threats she and everyone around her have received are above and beyond any rational reaction to her admittedly execrable behavior.
With any luck, some of the destructive potential of this anger will be leached off by Tea Parties --- but I think the Tea Parties will just crank up the anger, especially as people realize the drive-by media have no intention of covering these righteous demonstrations, preferring bobbing around in 0bama's tank and hoping, like the faithful puppy under the family dinner table, that a few pieces of Our Dear Leader's wagyu steak will drop on the floor within their reach.
I'm afraid it's going to get very very bad out there, long before it gets better ...
I feel the static emotional electricity building as I type.
It's not a good or a comfortable feeling.
People are mad as hell about the actions of government in the last month, and all that anger is floating above our heads, a malevolent cloud seeking a path --- any path --- to ground.
The Octo-Mom is attracting some of the energy --- the violent and sickly imaginative death threats she and everyone around her have received are above and beyond any rational reaction to her admittedly execrable behavior.
With any luck, some of the destructive potential of this anger will be leached off by Tea Parties --- but I think the Tea Parties will just crank up the anger, especially as people realize the drive-by media have no intention of covering these righteous demonstrations, preferring bobbing around in 0bama's tank and hoping, like the faithful puppy under the family dinner table, that a few pieces of Our Dear Leader's wagyu steak will drop on the floor within their reach.
I'm afraid it's going to get very very bad out there, long before it gets better ...
The Acronym FUBO ...
has gone viral in the conservative pathways of the Internet.
Does this make me racist?
Hmmm ...
Does this make me racist?
Hmmm ...
Speculation: Obama's First Hundred Days
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/2191215/posts
The phrase “a hundred days” was coined by the Compte de Chabrol in 1815, referring to the time between Napoleon’s escape from Elba, and his defeat. Later, it was used to describe the 3-month honeymoon FDR enjoyed in 1933 with Congress, essentially dictating legislation from the Oval Office. Now, for better or for worse, we grade all of our Presidents on their First Hundred Days.
A lot can happen in a hundred days. Empires can be made and lost. It’s worth taking an early look at Obama’s first month to see what the first hundred could bring, even if the trends may be skewed by the learning-curve a one-term Senator might inevitably face in his new job:
- Joe Biden told the Russians we want to “hit the reset button” with them – ignoring a number of recent provocations on their part.
- Hillary Clinton tried showing off her intelligence – literally – by using sensitive information about North Korea as talking points during her current “listening tour” overseas.
- Secretary Gates and Ambassador Holbrooke publicly contradicted each other on what a rapprochement with the Taliban might mean for Pakistan and Afghanistan.
- Obama outsourced the rushed creation of a massive bill to his Party apparatchiks, and got handed a partisan and flawed result, whose final outcome depended on preserving the vote of a badly compromised Roland Burris, and hip-checking Judd Gregg with a Mephistophelian offer of a Cabinet position. In the meantime, the President’s campaign has failed to pay its debts.
- The Attorney General called Americans “cowards” for not addressing issues of race.
- The new Secretary of the Treasury got the Stock Market to plunge by revealing a mortgage bailout plan remarkable only for it’s lack of vision, theme, and details – which seems all too much a reflection of his own tax returns.
- The new Secretary of Transportation suggested a tax on the number of miles driven by car-owners, which the White House almost immediately repudiated.
- Numerous Democrat legislators warned darkly of resurrecting the Fairness Doctrine, which the President declined to support.
To any observer trying to decipher where this Administration is attempting to go, there’s no wonder that the only impression is incoherence and contradiction. Biden and Clinton seem intent on proving to our allies and adversaries that President Obama is not President Bush – but neither of them can say what that means. In the meantime, the Iranians are launching space vehicles, and building nukes. The Russians are flexing their muscle everywhere, and the Taliban is emerging from their caves.
At home, the only industry likely to be stimulated by the recent porkfest will be the lawyers who will file countless suits over whether the Federal government can force States to take money they don’t want, or whether a handwritten insert from a staffer or lobbyist truly constitutes “the intent of Congress” in the making of law.
Al Sharpton and North Carolina’s James Clyborn found new ways to feign outrage – Sharpton alleging a racial slur to the President as the writer of a bill with which he had almost nothing to do, and Clyborn alleging that refusing federal money (and the strings attached) was tantamount to racism. No wonder people are afraid to talk about race when even non-racial issues can turn up “the race card.”
Emboldened by the bailout of bad loans made by bad banks to bad credit risks, groups like ACORN are breaking into foreclosed homes and declaring squatter’s rights. The Stock Market continues to fall. What’s a leader to do?
Predictably, the President has embarked on the one thing he does best – hitting the road, shaking hands, and making promises. In short: he’s campaigning again, but this time Americans are asking for something more than vague promises of “change.” Several appearances have been annoyingly marred by dissent.
Karl Rove comments that, for as disciplined as the Obama campaign may have been in the past, his team is “winging it” on most issues now. In fact, nothing has really changed: no amount of discipline can offset the lack of a substantive message.
The time for campaign rhetoric is past, and the consequences of this lack of discipline and substance keep piling up. A lot can happen in a hundred days. Here’s hoping our President can figure out how to avoid marching all of us to Waterloo before the time is up.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Going Conning!
Will be attending a science fiction convention over the weekend. I'll be attending a lot of the panel discussions, and may blog live or soon after live.
Have a blessed weekend, all!
Have a blessed weekend, all!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Where Is The Outrage? Part The First
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5ihA0Z5ybW84SLeY3NQbodRanP0mwD96EH44G3
WASHINGTON (AP) — The economic stimulus signed by President Barack Obama will spread billions of dollars across the country to spruce up aging roads and bridges. But there's not a dime specifically dedicated to fixing leftover damage from Hurricane Katrina.
And there's no outrage about it.
Democrats who routinely criticized President George W. Bush for not sending more money to the Gulf Coast appear to be giving Obama the benefit of the doubt in his first major spending initiative. Even the Gulf's fiercest advocates say they're happy with the stimulus package, and their states have enough money for now to address their needs.
"I'm not saying there won't be a need in the future, but right now the focus is not on more money, it's on using what we have," said Sen. Mary Landrieu, D-La., who has criticized Democrats and Republicans alike over Katrina funding.
It's a significant change in tone from the Bush years, when any perceived slight of Katrina victims was met with charges that the Republican president who bungled the initial response to the disaster continued to callously ignore the Gulf's needs years later.
Just last summer, Democrats accused Bush of putting Iraq before New Orleans when he sought to block Gulf Coast reconstruction money from a $162 billion war spending bill. Bush was pilloried for not mentioning the disaster in back-to-back State of the Union addresses.
Former Rep. Jim McCrery, R-La., who helped lead the fight for Gulf aid before retiring last year, said he was surprised over the lack of Katrina money in the bill, but figures lawmakers may be granting Obama leniency due to the magnitude of the country's current economic challenges.
"Any new president is going to have a little honeymoon," said McCrery, who is now a lobbyist. "I'd like to think that the tone would have been the same with any new president."
Thomas Langston, a Tulane University political scientist, said Democrats may be "playing nice" to keep in good favor. But dire needs remain, he said.
"Hopefully they've gotten some promises behind the scenes about longer-term commitments," Langston said. "Like most people down here, I would hate for anybody to get the impression that, 'We're good, thank you.'"
The federal government has devoted more than $175 billion to the region since Katrina ripped through New Orleans in 2005, and billions remain unspent. It's unclear how much more money will be needed, but nearly everyone agrees that the federal government should continue investing heavily in the region's levees and other infrastructure to prevent a repeat of Katrina's devastation.
Under the $787 billion stimulus bill, states will share more than $90 billion in infrastructure money. Gulf states such as Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama can use their funds for Katrina-related projects, but they'll get the same formula-based share that other states receive.
There was hardly a complaint as Obama and other Democratic leaders pieced together the package. Members of the all-Democratic Congressional Black Caucus, who have called Bush's Katrina funding a moral failure, said they were thrilled with the stimulus. Landrieu won several provisions that do not allocate new money but are aimed at cutting through red tape to free up existing funds.
"I think people looked at how generous Congress has been in the past," said Rep. Bennie Thompson, a Mississippi Democrat who chairs the House Homeland Security Committee. "(The states) have to demonstrate that they can be good custodians of the money."
Thompson and others say new funding wasn't necessary in the stimulus largely because billions of federal dollars remain bogged down in bureaucracy or tied up in planning. As a result, they said, Katrina funding doesn't fit with the quick-spending purpose of the stimulus bill, which is aimed at kick-starting the economy.
Ironically, Bush made similar arguments in recent years as Gulf advocates latched on to nearly any legislation they could find to pursue reconstruction money. For example, he routinely argued that Katrina funding didn't belong in war spending bills and that new funding wasn't urgent because unspent billions were already in the pipeline.
In part, the lack of criticism this year could reflect a stronger trust by fellow Democrats that Obama will follow through with his campaign pledge to rebuild levees and "keep the broken promises" to the Gulf.
Whether the grace period continues could hinge on how Obama addresses the issue in future spending bills.
Without discussing specific funding plans, White House spokeswoman Gannet Tseggai said Obama is "dedicated to rebuilding New Orleans and the Gulf Coast and looks forward to working with Congress to ensure they get the help they so desperately need."
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
I Didn't Just Cry ...
when I saw this trailer.
Several years ago, I posted "Taking Chance" to my black women's mailing list. Even some of those die-hard military hating, antiwar mavens admitted it made them tear up.
I was weeping uncontrollably after posting it. And now they've made a movie out of Lt. Colonel Strobl's letter.
By the end of the trailer, I was sobbing.
I won't be home on February 21st, but I'm going to tape it, and then watch it in small doses. I can pause it when I start gibbering ...
Several years ago, I posted "Taking Chance" to my black women's mailing list. Even some of those die-hard military hating, antiwar mavens admitted it made them tear up.
I was weeping uncontrollably after posting it. And now they've made a movie out of Lt. Colonel Strobl's letter.
By the end of the trailer, I was sobbing.
I won't be home on February 21st, but I'm going to tape it, and then watch it in small doses. I can pause it when I start gibbering ...
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
We Saw A House Today ...!
... and I love-love-LOVED it!
It's a little small, and in a subdivision where the neighbor's driveway is two long strides away from the side of the house.
But it's got three sides of Texas white stone, it's one-story, it's got a great porch and wonderful columns out front, it's tiled throughout (except in the closets, which are all carpeted), it has a nice wooden deck out back, the interior is painted in these fantastic earth tones of gold and cream and brown and rust that match and harmonize with the cinnamon-colored tile.
The kitchen is a little small, but the sink looks out a windeowr, which I love, and the kitchen plan is open, with a good-sized breakfast nook.
The master bedroom is kinda small, too, and the closet in the bathroom is almost as big as the bathing area.
And the mail is delivered to a box down the street ---ick!
But, for all that, I could live there. The front bedroom has two tall windows with rounded tops ... that would have to be my office.
Don't worry ... we know we need to look at other houses. And our Realtor seems hesitant about showing us houses in Georgetown, where we really want to live. But, geez, I liked that house!
I'm getting cold feet about moving ... this apartment looked pretty good when we got back.
But we have to move.
We have to.
It's a little small, and in a subdivision where the neighbor's driveway is two long strides away from the side of the house.
But it's got three sides of Texas white stone, it's one-story, it's got a great porch and wonderful columns out front, it's tiled throughout (except in the closets, which are all carpeted), it has a nice wooden deck out back, the interior is painted in these fantastic earth tones of gold and cream and brown and rust that match and harmonize with the cinnamon-colored tile.
The kitchen is a little small, but the sink looks out a windeowr, which I love, and the kitchen plan is open, with a good-sized breakfast nook.
The master bedroom is kinda small, too, and the closet in the bathroom is almost as big as the bathing area.
And the mail is delivered to a box down the street ---ick!
But, for all that, I could live there. The front bedroom has two tall windows with rounded tops ... that would have to be my office.
Don't worry ... we know we need to look at other houses. And our Realtor seems hesitant about showing us houses in Georgetown, where we really want to live. But, geez, I liked that house!
I'm getting cold feet about moving ... this apartment looked pretty good when we got back.
But we have to move.
We have to.
I Started A Fight Today ...
The ladies on the black women's discussion list are amazingly thin-skinned. They squeal like stuck pigs at the least little thing!
In the past, I have been accused by these women of hating black people, since I sometimes post messages critical of other black folks. The pot boiled over when I posted a message in 2008 about a TV show on one of the MTV/VH1/BET/Blah-Blah-Blah channels. This show featured well-to-do and spoiled Black teenagers.
"Can't you post something positive about black people once in a while?" Nevermind that I often post positive --- in fact, glowing --- articles about black people all the time. It pissed me off, and still does, because it implies that I am somehow not black (I'll tell that tale to the blog another day.)
So, I stumbled onto the TMZ story about Chris Brown beating up his girlfriend Rihanna hours before the Grammys, where they were both slated to perform. I posted it with the subject "Talking Bad About Black Folks: Chris Brown Beat Up Rihanna." The text of the message:
The delighful denizens of the list immediately decided I had "racialized" the incident. One of the women insisted that I had changed the header of an existing thread to racialize the incident.
Geez Louise!
If I had just reported the incident, I would have been accused of running down black people.
Maybe, the next time someone posts a negative message about black people, I should post Rodney Allen Rippy yelling "That's wraaaaacist!"
Okay, one day I will feel mischievous enough to do just that!
In the past, I have been accused by these women of hating black people, since I sometimes post messages critical of other black folks. The pot boiled over when I posted a message in 2008 about a TV show on one of the MTV/VH1/BET/Blah-Blah-Blah channels. This show featured well-to-do and spoiled Black teenagers.
"Can't you post something positive about black people once in a while?" Nevermind that I often post positive --- in fact, glowing --- articles about black people all the time. It pissed me off, and still does, because it implies that I am somehow not black (I'll tell that tale to the blog another day.)
So, I stumbled onto the TMZ story about Chris Brown beating up his girlfriend Rihanna hours before the Grammys, where they were both slated to perform. I posted it with the subject "Talking Bad About Black Folks: Chris Brown Beat Up Rihanna." The text of the message:
Yes, yes, I know, I hate all black people.
Having said that ... the accusation is that nineteen-year-old Chris
Brown beat
the sh*t out of his girlfriend Rihanna (and why is there no "ex-"
modifier in front of that noun?) Sunday night. Said injuries included:
- two bruises on her forehead that, according to police, looked
like "devils' horns"- bite marks(!!!) on her person;
- a bloody nose; and
- a busted lip.
This delightful example of masculinity apparently did his work with his
fists, the old-fashioned way. What a man of his hands ... not!
Now, getting beat up by your significant other is bad, no matter who
you and no matter who they are. Rihanna, however, makes her living
from her beautiful face and voice. This sucks.
Now ... how long will it take for him to get the R. KellyScumbucket
Humanitarian Award?
The delighful denizens of the list immediately decided I had "racialized" the incident. One of the women insisted that I had changed the header of an existing thread to racialize the incident.
Geez Louise!
If I had just reported the incident, I would have been accused of running down black people.
Maybe, the next time someone posts a negative message about black people, I should post Rodney Allen Rippy yelling "That's wraaaaacist!"
Okay, one day I will feel mischievous enough to do just that!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Customers Are A Mess!
So, I have an informal deal with a company to be their maintenance programmer. They sell software to a company. If the purchasing company wants the software modified or customized, or if there's some other problem, the selling company directs the purchasing company to me.
So, last month, my contact at the selling company --- SellDude --- forwards an email to me from ADude. ADude wants some fundamental changes made in the existing software, and has tried to do it himself; no joy. In fact, he's introduced an error.
SellDude sends me the email, but I don't get back to SellDude until the next day. SellDude tells me that ADude is good to go --- has fixed his own issues.
Stupidly, I never get back to ADude.
Last Thursday, ADude sends an email complaining that he hasn't heard from anyone. Oh, boy. I call ADude and leave a message including my phone number.
ADude calls me back, and I ascertain what he needs, all the while apologizing profusely for the misunderstanding. However, I foolishly forget to tell him my rates.
I do the work, and get it back to ADude when I said I would. Only then do I realize I didn't tell ADude what my rates were. Stupid Rose!
I email ADude and tell him what my rates are, and that I will invoice him, and ask for his preferred method of payment.
ADude runs to SellDude whining about how he didn't expect to have to pay. SellDude says, oh, no, Rose is a third-party contractor. SellDude then forwards these emails to me.
I call SellDude and converse. I then call ADude and leave a message with a secretary.
Moral of the story: ALWAYS lead with your rates!
So, last month, my contact at the selling company --- SellDude --- forwards an email to me from ADude. ADude wants some fundamental changes made in the existing software, and has tried to do it himself; no joy. In fact, he's introduced an error.
SellDude sends me the email, but I don't get back to SellDude until the next day. SellDude tells me that ADude is good to go --- has fixed his own issues.
Stupidly, I never get back to ADude.
Last Thursday, ADude sends an email complaining that he hasn't heard from anyone. Oh, boy. I call ADude and leave a message including my phone number.
ADude calls me back, and I ascertain what he needs, all the while apologizing profusely for the misunderstanding. However, I foolishly forget to tell him my rates.
I do the work, and get it back to ADude when I said I would. Only then do I realize I didn't tell ADude what my rates were. Stupid Rose!
I email ADude and tell him what my rates are, and that I will invoice him, and ask for his preferred method of payment.
ADude runs to SellDude whining about how he didn't expect to have to pay. SellDude says, oh, no, Rose is a third-party contractor. SellDude then forwards these emails to me.
I call SellDude and converse. I then call ADude and leave a message with a secretary.
Moral of the story: ALWAYS lead with your rates!
Monday, February 09, 2009
Tim Geithner Is A Tax Cheat --- Tell Him So!
Civil disobedience, conservative style!
Tim Geithner, the new Dear Treasury Secretary and Dear IRS Leader, is a tax cheat.
A blogger has put up this site, taxcheatstamps.com, where they're selling self-inking stamps that will slap the words TAX CHEAT! in bold red letters on anything ---- including across Tim Geithner's signature on any greenback issued on his watch.
It's technically illegal to write on US money, but people do it all the time, as it is almost impossible to prove that a particular person defaced a particular bill. This is a fair writeup of the issues involved.
If you're not worried about 0bama siccing the Secret Service on you, and you're already tired of these 0bama cabinet members who don't know how to pay their taxes, buy yourself a stamp.
By the way, the tax-cheat Secretary-nominee count is up to 5 now:
These people make me want to shower ...!
Tim Geithner, the new Dear Treasury Secretary and Dear IRS Leader, is a tax cheat.
A blogger has put up this site, taxcheatstamps.com, where they're selling self-inking stamps that will slap the words TAX CHEAT! in bold red letters on anything ---- including across Tim Geithner's signature on any greenback issued on his watch.
It's technically illegal to write on US money, but people do it all the time, as it is almost impossible to prove that a particular person defaced a particular bill. This is a fair writeup of the issues involved.
If you're not worried about 0bama siccing the Secret Service on you, and you're already tired of these 0bama cabinet members who don't know how to pay their taxes, buy yourself a stamp.
By the way, the tax-cheat Secretary-nominee count is up to 5 now:
- Wanna-be Commerce Secretary Richardson, who had the decency to withdraw his nomination before it got to committee;
- Dear Treasury Secretary Geithner, who can't figure out TaxCut;
- HHS Secretary-Assumptive Dasshole, who had to back away;
- "Chief Performance Officer" nominee Nancy Killifer, who also had to withdraw;
- Labor Secretary nominee Hilda Solis' husband, Sam Sayyad, who paid 16-year-old liens February r4th, one day before his wife's Senate hearing.
These people make me want to shower ...!
Send Up Prayers For Our Aussie Friends --- President Obama, Are You Available For Prayer?
The destruction, of land, of property, of human health and human lives, in Victoria from wildfire is enormous, and still growing.
Whole towns have been "wiped off the map." The fire is apparently outrunning cars. Authorities will be searching the affected areas for days looking for casualties. Twenty-two are in Melbourne's Alfred Hospital with burns.108 130 are known dead.
And, heaven help us, it seems to be arson.
Hey! The Great And Powerful Zero! Have you offered our Aussie comrades any assistance?
Whole towns have been "wiped off the map." The fire is apparently outrunning cars. Authorities will be searching the affected areas for days looking for casualties. Twenty-two are in Melbourne's Alfred Hospital with burns.
And, heaven help us, it seems to be arson.
Hey! The Great And Powerful Zero! Have you offered our Aussie comrades any assistance?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
More On "Reuben James"
Before I post lyrics, I like to make sure I have the correct composer --- so many lyrics sites list the singer as the composer, which is usually very flattering to the singer.
So, I looked up the composer of "Reuben James," and found a Wiki article on the name Reuben James. Seems there's the fictional one in the song, and another, who was a hero of the Marines' victory in the Barbary Wars. (Lord, everything old is new again --- just saw a news story about the Navy and Marines training to take on Somali pirates.)
More on that later, maybe. Right now, I'm interested in the song lyrics, and the fictional Reuben James.
Barry Etris, the man who wrote "Reuben James," is a white Southerner who wrote the song partly as a tribute to his own father, who plowed fields with a mule and was found dead in those self-same fields, the mule's reins still in his hands.
Mr. Etris is a visual artist, as well as an auditory one. He has sketched his vision of Reuben James, the religious share-cropper in the song.
I have always loved this song ... it was one of the few country songs about a black man that I heard when I was growing up. It's nice to know more about it.
So, I looked up the composer of "Reuben James," and found a Wiki article on the name Reuben James. Seems there's the fictional one in the song, and another, who was a hero of the Marines' victory in the Barbary Wars. (Lord, everything old is new again --- just saw a news story about the Navy and Marines training to take on Somali pirates.)
More on that later, maybe. Right now, I'm interested in the song lyrics, and the fictional Reuben James.
Barry Etris, the man who wrote "Reuben James," is a white Southerner who wrote the song partly as a tribute to his own father, who plowed fields with a mule and was found dead in those self-same fields, the mule's reins still in his hands.
Mr. Etris is a visual artist, as well as an auditory one. He has sketched his vision of Reuben James, the religious share-cropper in the song.
I have always loved this song ... it was one of the few country songs about a black man that I heard when I was growing up. It's nice to know more about it.
"Reuben James"
written by Barry Etris
Reuben James,
In my song you’ll live again.
And the phrases that I rhyme
Are just the footsteps out of time
From the time when I knew you,
Reuben James.
Reuben James,
In my song you’ll live again.
And the phrases that I rhyme
Are just the footsteps out of time
From the time when I knew you,
Reuben James.
Reuben James.
All the folks around Madison County cussed your name.
Just a no ‘count share-cropping colored man
Who would steal anything he can,
And everybody laid the blame
On Reuben James.
Reuben James,
You still walk the furrowed fields of my mind.
The faded shirt, the weathered brow,
The calloused hands upon the plow.
I loved you then, and I love you now,
Reuben James.
Flora Gray,
The gossip of Madison County died with child.
And although your skin was black,
You were the one that didn’t turn your back
On the hungry white child with no name,
Reuben James.
Reuben James,
With your mind on my soul and a Bible in your right hand.
You said, “Turn the other cheek,
There’s a better world a-waiting for the meek.”
In my mind these words remain
From Reuben James.
Reuben James,
You still walk the furrowed fields of my mind.
The faded shirt, the weathered brow,
the calloused hands upon the plow.
I loved you then, and I love you now,
Reuben James.
Reuben James,
One dark cloudy day they brought you from the field.
Until your lonely pine box came,
Just a preacher, me, and the rain
Just to sing one last refrain
For Reuben James.
Reuben James,
You still walk the furrowed fields of my mind.
The faded shirt, the weathered brow,
The calloused hands upon the plow.
I loved you then, and I love you now,
Reuben James.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
"The Son Of Hickory Hollow's Tramp"
Written by Dallas Frazier
Oh, the path was deep and wide
From footsteps leading to our cabin.
Above the door there burned a scarlet lamp.
And late at night, a hand would knock,
And there would stand a stranger.
Yes, I'm the son of Hickory Holler's tramp.
Yeah, the weeds were high, the corn was dry,
When Daddy took to drinking.
Him and Sally Walker, they up and ran away.
Then Momma shed a silent tear,
And promised fourteen children,
"I swear you'll never see a hungry day."
When Momma sacrificed her pride,
The neighbors started talking.
But we were much too young
To understand the things they said.
All we really cared about
Was Momma's chicken dumplings
And a goodnight kiss
Before we went to bed.
Oh, you know, the path was deep and wide
From footsteps leading to our cabin.
Above the door there burned a scarlet lamp.
And late at night, a hand would knock
And there would stand a stranger.
Yes, I'm the son of Hickory Holler's tramp.
When Daddy left and destitution
Came upon our family,
Not one neighbor volunteered
To lend a helping hand.
So just let 'em gossip all they want ...
She loved us, and she raised us.
The proof is standing here,
A full-grown man.
Last summer, Momma passed away,
And left the ones who loved her.
Each and every one of us is
More than grateful for their birth.
And each Sunday she receives
A big bouquet of fourteen roses,
With a card that reads
"The Greatest Mom on Earth!"
Oh, you know, the path was deep and wide
From footsteps leading to our cabin.
Above the door there burned a scarlet lamp.
And late at night a hand would knock,
And there would stand a stranger.
Yes, I'm the son of Hickory Holler's tramp!
Masturbation Fantasy As Journalism
Sometimes a President Is Just a President
The other night I dreamt of Barack Obama. He was taking a shower right whenI needed to get into the bathroom to shave my legs, and then he was being yelled at by my husband, Max, for smoking in the house. It was not clear whether Max was feeling protective of the president’s health or jealous because of the cigarette.The other day a friend of mine confided that in the weeks leading up to the election, the Obamas’ apparent joy as a couple had made her just miserable. Their marriage looked so much happier than hers. Their life seemed so perfect. “I was at a place where I was tempted daily to throttle my husband,” she said. “This coincided with Michelle saying the most beautiful things about Barack. Each time I heard her speak about him I got tears in my eyes — because I felt so far away from that kind of bliss in my own life and perhaps even more, because I was so moved by her expressions of devotion to him. And unlike previous presidential couples, they are our age, have children the same age and (just imagine the stress of daily life on the campaign) by all accounts should have been fighting even more than we were.”
As we all know, in journalism, two anecdotes are just one short of a national trend. I figured that my friend and I couldn’t possibly be the only ones dreaming, brooding or otherwise obsessing about the Obamas. Were other people, I wondered, being possessed by our new first family?
I launched an e-mail inquiry. And learned that they were. Often, in strikingly similar ways. Many women — not too surprisingly — were dreaming about sex with the president. In these dreams, the women replaced Michelle with greater or lesser guilt or, in the case of a 62-year-old woman in North Florida, whose dream was reported to me by her daughter, found a fully above-board solution: “Michelle had divorced Barack because he had become ‘too much of a star.’ He then married my mother, who was oh so proud to be the first lady,” the daughter wrote me.
Most dreams, however, were, like mine, more prosaic.
One woman wrote that when she couldn’t get to sleep at night, she “lay in bed and thought about the Obama girls in their rooms at the White House. I thought about Marian Robinson up on the third floor. And about Barack and Michelle, a couple who clearly have a ‘thing’ for each other, spooning together in bed. It helped me relax.”
I understood perfectly where these cozy dreams of easy familiarity came from. It was that sense so many people share of having a very immediate connection to Barack Obama, whether they’re black or biracial, or children of single parents or self-made strivers; or they’re lawyers or community organizers or Ivy League graduates or smokers or basketball players or Blackberry users or parents or married or Democrats. A lot of people share the fantasy that having the Obamas over for “dinner and a game of Scrabble,” as one daydreamer put it to me, is something that really could just about happen.
“This is the first president I’ve known who looks, talks and acts like a peer,” is how one Washington man explained it to me. “Notwithstanding his somewhat exotic life story, I feel like I understand what he’s like and where he’s coming from. And despite his incredible achievements, he still seems like a lot of people I know. If you stopped the clock in 2004, in fact, or maybe a couple of years earlier, he’d feel roughly like a peer in terms of accomplishments, too. Of course I know nobody with his political gifts, speaking skills and confidence, and he’s also a gifted writer and thinker. But I feel like one or two different turns for Obama or me and he could have been someone my friends and I wouldn’t think it extraordinary to have in our circle.”
Sometimes this sense of close identification turns a bit dark. There’s a subcategory of people who feel that they really should have true intimacy with the Obamas. Because they went to school with them. Because they used to dream like them. Because, with one or two “different turns,” they maybe could have been them.
These are not the people made most happy by thinking about the Obamas.
“They do seem to have it all together — a great marriage, beautiful children, a modern day Norman Rockwell family,” said a divorced Harvard grad with children in a top D.C. private school. “Why them, not me?”
These are people for whom the Obamas are not just a beacon of hope, inspiration and “demigodlikeness,” as a New York lawyer put it, but also a kind of mirror. And the refracted image of self they see is not one they much admire.
“I keep thinking about how I squandered my education and youth,” the New York lawyer wrote to me. “I went off to college from high school being completely community-minded, doing a lot of volunteer work for the homeless and for hunger and tutoring poor kids. Then I got to college and forgot my ideals. Barack was my year at Columbia. Why wasn’t I hanging out with him and being serious and following my ideals instead of hanging out in clubs? Same with law school. I partied my way through instead of taking advantage of all that I could have. Both Obamas were there when I was. I feel like if I’d been a better person I would have gotten to know them.”
A Washington lawyer expressed similar sentiments: “I feel like I know Barack, that I have worked grassroots and have created change in the way that he has. I [also] have feelings of a mom who had possibility but ended up running school auctions and mediating family business matters rather than having the opportunity to be out there on a national level creating change. So when I watch Barack I feel like: I can do that … and what am I doing with my life? Even though he is way smarter and more articulate than me.”
Another Washington woman, a global health care consultant, expressed her sense of Obama-inadequacy in a dream: “I dreamed I was an Obama girl. I had a chance to be in the same room with him for the first time. There were dark velvet chairs and he was standing there with all this dark and mist around him. His lips so purple and sensuous as if to be otherworldly,” she wrote to me. “I moved gently toward him and then I said the wrong thing. Obama tamped it down like some vapor that didn’t register. He wasn’t even flattered.”
(“Like a lot of folks, I have anxiety about being outside of the Obama administration universe right now,” she then explained to me. “Even though I was at the ‘it’ ball of inauguration balls, I still felt like other balls were greener, or more purple, or with credentials completely out of my control — more young. I really feel like I’m scrambling internally … to deserve Obama cred and all I’ve got is this over-my-head wonder for the man that amounts to being an Obama girl.”)
For some, not knowing the Obamas has almost turned into a feeling of being snubbed or excluded. Like in middle school. It’s funny. Almost.
“Why won’t my kids be sleeping over at the White House? And as my daughter noted, why couldn’t she get to sit front and center and see the Jonas Brothers and Miley perform at the kids’ inaugural concert? If she went to Sidwell, then she might have these chances, she said …” wrote a mother whose kids are not at Sidwell Friends school with Sasha
and Malia.“Will Michelle stay down to earth? She could prove it by joining our book club,” wrote a Sidwell mom.
This is, perhaps, the price of faux-familiarity. If I were Barack Obama (or Michelle, for that matter), I’d be a little scared. After all, when people are wearing their egos on their sleeves, it’s so easy to bruise their feelings. What will happen if fantasy turns to contempt?
Friday, February 06, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Pens!!!
I am a pen freak.
I love ink pens. I especially love metal fine point gel pens that come in a myriad of colors.
Up until recently, my favorite pens had been, oddly enough, Office Depot's Foray Extra Fine Point gel pens (I would have posted a picture, but after taking a single shot, my camera's battery died). The eight colors --- black, dark blue, bright blue, green, purple, red, turquoise, and pink --- are vivid, the 0.3mm point is very fine, and allows for teeny-tiny writing. The grip area of the slender barrel is horizontally ribbed, and not all that comfortable, but not as uncomfortable as you might think.
I've also been enjoying the .5mm needle-pointed Bic Z4+. Though I have only been able to find the needle-pointed one in black, blue, red, and green, they are a pleasure to write with, as they have a clean writing line, a nicely thickish barrel, and a comfortably padded grip.
And, of course, I like the Pilot Precise Grip Extra Fine needle-point. It also comes in the four basic colors --- black, blue, green, and red. It's a fat pen, and features a slip-resistant padded ring that lets me write for hours at a time.
But now I have a new pen love --- the Uniball Signo DX UM-151, seventeen colors, and with a wicked cone-point that doubles as a weapon! It's a Japanese import even though it's a Uniball product --- the Japanese like their pens to come in fine points and plenty of colors. The DX UM-151s I now have are .28mm, and ever so fine-lined! I'll post pictures later.
The colors include: black, blue-black, brown-black, blue, light blue, sky blue, green, emerald green, lime green, red, orange, mandarin orange, pink, pure pink, baby pink, golden yellow, and violet. They are beautiful, and glide over paper like a dream!
I just love my pens!
I love ink pens. I especially love metal fine point gel pens that come in a myriad of colors.
Up until recently, my favorite pens had been, oddly enough, Office Depot's Foray Extra Fine Point gel pens (I would have posted a picture, but after taking a single shot, my camera's battery died). The eight colors --- black, dark blue, bright blue, green, purple, red, turquoise, and pink --- are vivid, the 0.3mm point is very fine, and allows for teeny-tiny writing. The grip area of the slender barrel is horizontally ribbed, and not all that comfortable, but not as uncomfortable as you might think.
I've also been enjoying the .5mm needle-pointed Bic Z4+. Though I have only been able to find the needle-pointed one in black, blue, red, and green, they are a pleasure to write with, as they have a clean writing line, a nicely thickish barrel, and a comfortably padded grip.
And, of course, I like the Pilot Precise Grip Extra Fine needle-point. It also comes in the four basic colors --- black, blue, green, and red. It's a fat pen, and features a slip-resistant padded ring that lets me write for hours at a time.
But now I have a new pen love --- the Uniball Signo DX UM-151, seventeen colors, and with a wicked cone-point that doubles as a weapon! It's a Japanese import even though it's a Uniball product --- the Japanese like their pens to come in fine points and plenty of colors. The DX UM-151s I now have are .28mm, and ever so fine-lined! I'll post pictures later.
The colors include: black, blue-black, brown-black, blue, light blue, sky blue, green, emerald green, lime green, red, orange, mandarin orange, pink, pure pink, baby pink, golden yellow, and violet. They are beautiful, and glide over paper like a dream!
I just love my pens!
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
This Is A Beautiul Day The Lord Has Made!
This afternoon, I had the car --- I had a beauty shop appointment, and several errands to run.
DaBear woke up late, and so we left late, and we hadn't left the apartment by 9:30am, my appointment time. I called Tuesday, my beautician, and told her I wouldn't be there before 10am. She preferred to reschedule for Wednesday, and I concurred.
Ten minutes later, Tuesday called me back and said one of her customers had called to cancel, and she offered me the lady's 1pm appointment. I accepted, gladly.
Since my morning was suddenly free, I decided to execute my errands. I went to Home Depot, right across from the Lazy E, looking for flower pots, potting soil, and miniature roses, but I found their selection of pots paltry, and their mini roses overpriced.
I left there and went to Office Depot, where I purchased several items. From there, I went to WalMart, where I got house shoes (a pink pair of Dearfoam scuffs and a black version of the pair I bought after the Great Flood, on sale for $6.00), a few mesh cups for my new pens (new pens!), and lined Post-it notes. I stopped at the bank and got some cash money.
Love the Lord, it was a beautiful day. It was a little over seventy degrees, calm and sunny and just glorious. I wound down the window, and was driving along uncrowded roads. I felt so good I picked up the phone and called DaBear and let him know it was a beautiful day the Lord had made!
I was a free agent, accountable to no human being but my husband. I had a car that moved freely, that had a radio and a working air conditioner (which I needed as the day progressed). I could afford to gas up that car, to go to the stores I loved and spend money on things I needed and a few things I just wanted, that I had folding money in my pocket. I had a husband with whom I could share this pleasure in this magnificent day.
I stopped at Walgreens and bought fingernail polish and a blood pressure cuff and an electric razor, and picked up some prescriptions. I bought lottery tickets and ice cream at a convenience store, and picked up a package at the apartment complex office. I hauled my goodies upstairs, dropped them off, then left again to go get my hair done and spend a couple of hours with a friend.
I had a great time at Tuesday's! I left there and drove to JCPenney, where I successfully returned a set of defective sheets I purchased over a year ago. JCPenney properly gave me a refund, which I used to order identical replacement sheets. The replacement sheets now cost less than I paid for the originals, so I came out right-side-up there! Beautiful day!
After that, I stopped at Lowe's, where I was able to find six pots and a big bag of potting soil --- sometime early next week, before the cold front moves in, I will repot my poor plants and make them happy, I hope.
Every day she was home, when I was a child in San Antonio, my mother would listen to KAPE-AM, the black radio station, and to their gospel program. They played this song a lot, sung by Albertina Walker.
"I Know Who Holds Tomorrow"
written by Ira Forest Stanphill
I don't know
About tomorrow ...
I just live
From day
To day.
I don't borrow from
Life's sunshine
For its skies may turn gray ...
DaBear woke up late, and so we left late, and we hadn't left the apartment by 9:30am, my appointment time. I called Tuesday, my beautician, and told her I wouldn't be there before 10am. She preferred to reschedule for Wednesday, and I concurred.
Ten minutes later, Tuesday called me back and said one of her customers had called to cancel, and she offered me the lady's 1pm appointment. I accepted, gladly.
Since my morning was suddenly free, I decided to execute my errands. I went to Home Depot, right across from the Lazy E, looking for flower pots, potting soil, and miniature roses, but I found their selection of pots paltry, and their mini roses overpriced.
I left there and went to Office Depot, where I purchased several items. From there, I went to WalMart, where I got house shoes (a pink pair of Dearfoam scuffs and a black version of the pair I bought after the Great Flood, on sale for $6.00), a few mesh cups for my new pens (new pens!), and lined Post-it notes. I stopped at the bank and got some cash money.
Love the Lord, it was a beautiful day. It was a little over seventy degrees, calm and sunny and just glorious. I wound down the window, and was driving along uncrowded roads. I felt so good I picked up the phone and called DaBear and let him know it was a beautiful day the Lord had made!
I was a free agent, accountable to no human being but my husband. I had a car that moved freely, that had a radio and a working air conditioner (which I needed as the day progressed). I could afford to gas up that car, to go to the stores I loved and spend money on things I needed and a few things I just wanted, that I had folding money in my pocket. I had a husband with whom I could share this pleasure in this magnificent day.
I stopped at Walgreens and bought fingernail polish and a blood pressure cuff and an electric razor, and picked up some prescriptions. I bought lottery tickets and ice cream at a convenience store, and picked up a package at the apartment complex office. I hauled my goodies upstairs, dropped them off, then left again to go get my hair done and spend a couple of hours with a friend.
I had a great time at Tuesday's! I left there and drove to JCPenney, where I successfully returned a set of defective sheets I purchased over a year ago. JCPenney properly gave me a refund, which I used to order identical replacement sheets. The replacement sheets now cost less than I paid for the originals, so I came out right-side-up there! Beautiful day!
After that, I stopped at Lowe's, where I was able to find six pots and a big bag of potting soil --- sometime early next week, before the cold front moves in, I will repot my poor plants and make them happy, I hope.
Every day she was home, when I was a child in San Antonio, my mother would listen to KAPE-AM, the black radio station, and to their gospel program. They played this song a lot, sung by Albertina Walker.
"I Know Who Holds Tomorrow"
written by Ira Forest Stanphill
I don't know
About tomorrow ...
I just live
From day
To day.
I don't borrow from
Life's sunshine
For its skies may turn gray ...
Sunday, February 01, 2009
My Conservative Identity
My Conservative Identity:
You are a Freedom Crusader, also known as a neoconservative. You believe in taking the fight directly to the enemy, whether it’s terrorists abroad or the liberal terrorist appeasers at home who give them aid and comfort.
Take the quiz at www.FightLiberals.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
