A Student of History

Republican strategy is a thing of beauty. I’ve studied and believe myself ready to take over for Karl Rove……when he’s hung as a traitor….from a flagpole at Fenway….after the Sox win it again this year.

This is what I've learned:

When serious questions are raised –
When ethics charges are brought –
When indictments are served –

Respond to the message? That’s for pussies.

If you’re a winner – attack, lie, and smile.

The plan is that simple. And it’s genius.

- Tom Delay is indicted by a grand jury for breaking campaign finance laws.
Forget the grand jury is made up of gun-toting Texans and attack the prosecutor instead. Make him look like a partisan hack hunting a political leader for something silly. Ignore the irony.

(Delay’s defense seems to be that his behavior was not unprecedented. Stealing isn’t unprecedented and neither is murder. Does that make it okay? Sorry. I can’t help myself.)

- Cindy Sheehan loses her son in a war we are ill prepared to fight. She wants to know why.
Attack her character and role as a mother all while promoting traditional family values.

- Fail to respond in a timely fashion to hurricane victims because government agencies are staffed with incompetents.
Spread lies about Louisiana governor, watch poll numbers drop like my platelet count and then go after New Orleans instead. For existing.
Added bonus: Allow gas friends, oil buddies and Halliburton executives to make money off the tragedy.

- Bill Frist gets investigated for insider trading.
Insist ethics laws made him do it.

If all else fails, remind country that anything is better than abortion on demand and gay men recruiting boys in public restrooms. Then burp a Bible verse and walk away shaking your head.

Works like a charm.

Pass the Prune Juice, Please

“Good God, what is Katie shouting from the bathroom?”

Doctor Feelgood says I don’t have anemia. He says my condition is probably not caused by a vegetarian diet. Don’t you love the word probably? So reassuring. Despite all that, iron supplements have been prescribed. We’re upping my usual 36mgs a day to a damn-near toxic level of 231mgs.

I could suck the lead out of a cast iron pipe (yes, I really could), gnaw on some juicy steaks, wash it down with a pint of Guinness and still not reach these numbers of mineral madness.

(Doesn’t that sound like a fun date?)

Plus there’s no guarantee my overdosing helps raise a single platelet from the dead. We’re just doing this for fun. For kicks.

“Besides,” Doc says, “it can’t hurt.”




…famous last words.

The Boys are Back in Town – Part Two

Ned Braden: What are you doing?
Jeff Hanson: Puttin' on the foil!
Steve Hanson: Every game!
Jack Hanson: Want some?

I have a funny hockey story. And by “funny”, I mean “embarrassing”.

I’m good friends with Best High-School Coach Ever (hockey) and one of his players gave him an autographed picture of Dave Andreychuk. Sunshine gave it to me because he knows 1) our captain is my most-favorite athlete and 2) my children are also HUGE hockey fans.

My youngest taped the picture on our refrigerator door – the ultimate honor. I agreed because that allowed me to gaze lovingly at the man who gives professional sports a good name.

A few months later, our new neighbor locked herself out of the house early one Saturday morning. She noticed the light and knocked on our door. Husband invited her in and offered a cup of his world-famous coffee. We liked her and her husband immediately because they’re from Buffalo (my home circa 1978-1981) and because they sent over a bottle of wine as a thank-you.

They also invited us to their house for a small gathering the following week. Husband and I mingled, met family from upstate New York and were led outside for drinks around the pool. We met their friends.

“Nice to meet you.”

I could have died when Dave Andreychuk got up and shook my hand. Could. Have. Died.

I sat down and carried on a normal conversation as if he worked for IBM. My man and I acted totally cool. When we talked about living in Boston, Dave said,

“You lived in the North End? We lived in Beacon Hill.”

I wanted to shout,

“I know! You played for the Bruins! And Buffalo! I LOVE YOU!”

But I didn’t. I kept it together and didn’t dare geek out. Husband made him laugh twice. New best friends! Then my neighbor said,

“Katie, tell Dave what you have on your refrigerator!”

At first I didn’t understand the question. When did she see my refrigerator? Then it hit me. The early morning coffee in my kitchen! I turned as red as my wine.

“No…” I said, wishing to disappear. “That’s okay.”

“Tell him,” she said, laughing. “He’d get a kick out of it.”

I took a deep breath. My cover had been blown. How could I salvage a bit of pride?

Three words: Blame the kids.

I acted like my boys were the stalker-fans and I’m a normal, clueless mom who humors them. My neighbors mentioned bringing the boys to meet Dave and I just nodded my head. Inside I’m thinking, No way. My oldest would sell me out for sure.

“Mommy, look! Your favorite player!”

Some people need their kids to humiliate them. I do just fine on my own. Later that night, Dave's picture went in a photo album where it can no longer cause me embarrassment. (Yet I can still look at it lovingly from time to time. See how that works?)

Hockey is back. Woo-Hoo!

That’s all I’m saying.

The Boys are Back in Town - Part One

I don’t know much about sports.

Okay, that’s not true. I know a few things. Like:

- Football season rocks because I get guilt-free “me” time while the men in my life are entertained and preoccupied.

- Athletes are overrated. Unless we’re talking about Jim Kelly or Dave Andreychuk.

- Always support the home team. And I do. But when the Red Sox play, I stop and behold their glory. Been to Fenway and couldn’t even sit through a whole game there, but the team reminds me of a town and people for whom I am deeply in love and counting the days until we move back. (4160)

I also know that hockey is the absolute best. Hands down. (There are five favorite sports moments and three involve hockey: When we beat Russia on the ice in 1980, when Ray Bourque held up the Stanley Cup in 2001, and when the Lightning won it in June 2004) Hockey is fast, exciting, played indoors so there’s no sweating or sunburns, and a blue-collar sport compared to others which appeals to my liberal nature. And even though I’m non-violent, I have been known to cheer on a fight or two. I admit it.

How happy am I that hockey is back? Thrilled. Going to see the Tampa Bay Lightning tomorrow and I will get teary-eyed. I will yell and cheer. Can't wait. The only thing that would make me happier at this point is if President Bush drank himself into a permanent coma.

Blowin' in the Wind

When my children were toddlers, they'd cry every time President Bush came on television. Maybe because he interrupted Elmo or maybe because they were liberals from birth. Like Mommy. (Daddy, too. Although he became more liberal after listening to Mommy's ranting for seventeen years.)

Now my children are safe inside their kindergarten classrooms and I torture students instead by forcing them to view the President strutting his stuff in front of the American people and an ornery press corps.

I'm glad my boys missed today's performance. Did anyone else feel like hurling during lunch?

When Bush lectures about wartime strategy and sacrifice, I get offended on several levels. His condescending tone indicates he believes he's some kind of authority when in reality he knows nothing about either issue. How can he talk about sacrificing the lives of brave soldiers for a noble cause when he's never been upfront about the cause in the first place? Are his buddies in oil companies sacrificing when they rake in huge profits through legal price gouging? As a teacher, I cringe when the leader of the free world butchers his native language. His unearned arrogance leaves me embarrassed to show his speeches in class because most of my students are astute enough to wonder out loud,

"He doesn't even understand himself. Does he?"

Then Bush was asked what his administration has learned from Hurricane Katrina that will make federal response more effective once Hurricane Rita blows through Texas. His answer was something like,

"Maybe this time people will take evacuation orders seriously."

Yet another example of a conservative compassionately blaming people who had no means to effectively haul ass. Let's hope the good people of Texas aren't as unfortunate.

Now it seems the rest of the world is catching on to what my children knew from the get-go. Bush's approval ratings are at an all-time low and it seems the pressure is getting to him.

Drink up, Georgie. It's gonna be a long weekend.

Adventures in Punditry

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world... is what you share with someone else when you're uncool."

Local reporter sought my opinion about a current event and my ego almost got as big as my hair. Almost.

At first, I got all excited and wondered which event would it be? John Roberts? Perhaps a critique on the President and his response to the people of New Orleans? I know! Maybe I'd be asked who should replace Chief Justice Rehnquist?

Oh, I was on a roll.

Next stop The McLaughlin Group where I enlighten and entertain all three dozen viewers with witty takes on global warming and fair trade. I'd get a makeover! Hit on Fareed Zakaria! Some people I'd blow off and some I'd take with me on this quest to replace DeeDee Myers in the talk show circuit. New York, here I come!

Then the reporter sent me the topic and ...not so much. (UPDATE: They asked for a picture of me and my babies. So I sent them one of me with my newborn children in my arms. So sweet, right? Again, not so much. They cut out the boys and just have my recovering-from-major-surgery-not-getting-any-sleep face in a close up. FANTASTIC.)

Know what else? They did a cover story about important blogs in the Bay area and not one word about this little site I call home. Not. One. Word.

I took a deep breath while a voice inside said, "Get over yourself." (When I say "a voice inside", I mean "my mother".)

She's right. After all, I rant about politics, parenting, and low platelets. Is there even a market for what I do? Probably not. Also, a trend with the trendier sites is to get fired or kicked out of law school - proving even the popular have problems.

I'm going to keep it real with my two daily visitors and thoughts on pop divas. It'll have to do.

If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say…

“And Nietzsche, with his theory of eternal recurrence; he said that the life we lived we're gonna live over again the exact same way for eternity. Great, that means I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again.”

I feel like Woody Allen in Hannah and Her Sisters.

SIDE NOTE: I can no longer pay to see Woody Allen movies in the theatre with a clear conscience; therefore, a few years ago, he made my ever-growing boycott list. I’ll still watch his movies on cable, though, and my favorite remains tied between Radio Days and Annie Hall. And Manhattan. Although Crimes and Misdemeanors isn’t bad either.

Anyway, remember when Woody Allen is waiting for his tests to come back and thinks he may have a brain tumor? That’s how I feel right now.

Therefore, I’m going to speak on behalf of everyone out there getting poked and prodded to discover “the problem”, not to mention those who ultimately receive bad news. Hopefully, I won’t be one of them, but you never know. I figure I should get this off my double Ds just in case. (I’m really a “C”, but double Ds sound so much better.)

Everyone, please stop with:

-Emails detailing all the people who have died, lost hair, lost limbs, and lost brain cells as a result of low platelets. That’s not what I mean by “keep in touch”.

-Blowing smoke in my face and choking out statements like, “At this point, what does it matter?”

-Complaints about minor irritants in your own life. I’ll gladly sit down and discuss real problems you’re facing, but crying over a chest cold is a bit much.

-Conversations beginning with, “I can’t believe you still exercise and eat right. Talk about a lost cause.”

-Insults. Just for a little while. I’m aware of my idiosyncrasies; I don’t need them outlined right now. And I promise when you’re awaiting test results for testicular cancer, I won’t blast you for worshiping the Buffalo Bills.

-Self-absorption. Just for the record, you’ve got the cushiest job known to man. I know because I have the same goddamn job. And it’s a piece of cake. You want pressure? Try working sixty hours a week for a job that requires at least eighty, competing against Harvard grads all while preventing staff members from overthrowing management. Teaching is a walk in the park compared to the cut-throat corporate world. So quit yer bitching. Please.

Don’t get me wrong. I still enjoy a good row over politics (federal emergency agencies don’t have to wait for an invitation to go in and save lives); pop culture (Get Behind Me Satan is album of the year) and sports (go Red Sox). I would just like to hear a heartfelt, “How are you doing?” somewhere in the conversation. I’m allergic to self-pity and will probably blow off the question. It’s still nice to be asked.

To recap, if you’re not going to be supportive, take your business elsewhere.

Five people will swear this is about them and to each one I say,

“You’re right. Now bugger off and join a support group. Don’t bother me any more with negativity and insensitive comments. I want kindness, positive thoughts, and sexual favors. In that order. If you can’t get with the program, there’s the door.”

And leave me alone will be the last thing you hear from me.

Quotes that Kill Me

Too bad not all of life’s bizarre moments are quote-worthy. For example, when Sloan calls in the middle of the night because he’s at an Oasis concert and wants to share the love. REM sleep involving John Corbett and I in compromising positions got interrupted by Liam Gallagher warbling on stage while Sloan yelled inaudibly in the background. He’s lucky I only hung up on him.

Or my husband attending a family breakfast with the boys and our oldest ruining our good family name by showing everyone the boo-boo on his middle finger (translation: flipping the bird to every mortified adult in the room).

However, the following speak to me on so many different levels; I just had to share –

"What I'm hearing which is sort of scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this is working very well for them."
Barbara Bush putting the “ass” in compassionate conservatism

“Do you have anything you’d like to sing that fits this moment?”
Larry King after Celine Dion has a meltdown on his show

"Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house ... there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch."
George Bush moved to tears at the thought of a rich, white man starting over

“First Responders Urged Not to Respond”
FEMA website during Hurricane Katrina

“Brownie, you’re doing a heck of a job.”
Bush to Brown (former director of FEMA – since forced to resign)

“Kill All Peelers (Police)”
Unionists/Terrorists in the North of Ireland (only place I’m proud to be called a Republican)

“I’m allergic to bad people and soap, so I’m going to have to leave this family.”
my youngest son

“I read your article. It’s the same old regurgitated bullshit. Funny though.”
Michele

“I decided to retire today.”
Dad

“Don’t feel sad about no one at your new school knowing you. No one knew you when you worked here either.”
Jim

"The rules in New Orleans are as good as the last person who made them."
Brian Williams on The Daily Show

“George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”
Kanye West (Reminds me of another quote from years ago: “Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.” )

“Chief Justice William Rehnquist set back liberty, equality, and human rights perhaps more than any American judge of this generation.”
Alan Dershowitz

“Makin’ a killin’ off the price of gas. He would have been up in Connecticut twice as fast.”
K-Otix

“The Koran says mischievous men are tricking the world into thinking they’re for peace when they’re not. Tell me that ain’t about Bush.”
-anonymous student I almost hugged

“I had to fast all day so a horny technician could take an hour pretending to ultrasound my spleen. I’ve repented enough and maybe shouldn’t have to fast again for Yom Kippur next month. What do you think? Rabbi?”
Katie “I Feel Violated” Robinson

That about covers it.

Highlights

No Last Name
A weekly paper, distributed by the St. Petersburg Times, put its reputation at risk by printing one of my parenting rants. tbt* published my column right above an advertisement/coupon for Tampa Bay’s finest nude resort. Check out the phallic flower. Exactly who do they think is reading parenting columns? Makes you wonder about us innocent-looking mommy-types, doesn’t it? Although it’s been years since I last took off my clothes in public, I do like clipping coupons…

Bad News from Boston
New favorite doctor believes my platelet problem is either a mineral/vitamin deficiency or ITP. He wants to investigate further. MGH peeps faxed my old bloodwork in record time (yet another reason to keep in touch with the planet) and turns out my platelets used to be quite plentiful (yet another reason to move back).

Boston’s not only good for my soul, but good for my blood as well.

So where did my platelets go? Who knows…but I love that ITP has awareness bracelets.

SIDE NOTE: I’m no fan of the whole bracelet craze. I only wear one. It’s not yellow or pink or white …although noble causes all. Mine is blue –a gift from a dear friend (albeit a terribly cheap one – what are they – a dollar?), benefits the Democratic Party, and I can wear it at school without getting fired or lectured by conservative administrators. Subtle subversive behavior- big fan!

Anyway, if I’m walking around with ITP, pregnancy is out of the question. Don’t want to bleed all over the place, die young, and leave my man on the make. Guaranteed he’d find some lovely blonde who smells fresh all the time and doesn’t complain about dirty clothes on the floor. We can’t have that.

Instead, I am focusing on good news: plastic surgery is perfectly safe. I cried tears of joy and relief when told I can still get my old body back. Hormones during pregnancy makes ITP worse, but regular surgery is fine. Hallelujah.

I’ll be distributing ITP awareness bracelets at that nude resort in no time.

Feel the Love Part I
Last week -
Husband: Hi, Ron. My car just died on the side of the road. The tow truck isn’t going to be here for a while and I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.
Dad: (five second pause) Oh yeah? What’s wrong with the car?
Husband: Not real sure.
Dad: (five second pause) Well, don’t take it to the dealership. You’ll get screwed.
Husband: Yeah. Okay. So…
Dad: Where you at again?
Husband: About twenty minutes from your office.
Dad: (sound of drinking coffee)
Husband: I’m sort of stranded.
Dad: (ten second pause and heavy sigh) I’ll call you back.

This week-
Husband: Hi, Ron. Jake’s sick and needs to be picked up at school.
Dad: Give me the address.

Feel the Love Part II
Recent email from my brother:

Hey.
Got your voice mail.
You were "just checking in" huh?
Well then.
I was working.
Got it?
Deal with it.
So.
Um.
How are things?
Yeah.
(sigh)
(yawn)
Whatever.
I'll call you tomorrow.
Maybe.
What time is best for you?
I give a shit.
I'll call when I want.
Hear me?
Feel me?
Dig it?
I knew that you could.
Word.

I love that kid.

Profanity and Politics
My favorite combination – more than handcuffs and Astroglide.
Check it.

Are You There God? It's Me, Katie.

President Bush is always thinking. This time he’s come up with a way to fix everything. He’s calling all citizens of this great country, the young and the old, the weak and the able, rich and poor, to stand up together on September 16th and pray.

‘Cause that’s gonna help people in New Orleans. Prayer.

Remember that old codger Franklin Delano Roosevelt? During a time of great crisis, he called on citizens…patriots…to sacrifice for the good of the hood. Not Dumbya. He’s got a better idea. Instead of standing, he’d like us all to kneel.

I’ve got nothing against kneeling. With the right lighting and enough alcohol...wait a minute...I digress.

I also have nothing against prayer. I just think you should move your ass at the same time. How about a day of action? Just for kicks, why don’t we make it a national priority to do something?

Shout out to the Lord while:

- Donating money, clothes, or supplies to United Jewish Communities or Catholic Charities .
- Giving blood. You platelet-abundant bastards.
- Carpooling to save gas.
- Hosting a yard or garage sale with proceeds to benefit hurricane victims.
- Sheltering a displaced family.
- Protesting an administration that wants to take full credit responding to New York after 9/11, but pass the buck when it comes to ignoring Southern poor people after Katrina.
- Teaching your children about Tzedakah or charity while they part with piggy bank change to help those less fortunate.
- Eating a candlelight dinner to save energy.
- Holding the good ole boy network accountable for putting friends in places only experienced emergency managers ought to be.
- Share a shower with your partner to save gas and energy.

There are lots of ideas out there and many ways to make a difference. Isn’t action and prayer together the best way to honor victims and help survivors?

Time to Get Ill

“Into each life, a little rain must fall.”

When bad things happen, we have two choices: dwell on the disappointment or focus on the positive. Can anything good come from tragedy? Absolutely. Jennifer Lopez builds her career around it. Life is all about bouncing back – you just have to look at unfortunate events and spin them from another point of view. Some examples:

Downside: Natural disaster and not-so-rapid response from our government wipes out poorest of the poor.
Upside: Bush and Co. get to use favorite deflecting mantra (“This is, once again, for the fourth year in a row, not the time to criticize.”), allow gas/oil companies to gouge prices and score some profits, pretend to care during orchestrated photo ops all while neglecting a constituency that never voted for them in the first place.

See how this works?

Downside: Husband’s two year-old car breaks down on a Friday morning, forcing entire family to share mommy’s minivan – switching between Little Earthquakes and Rap From the 90s (depending on who’s driving) - while children complain they can’t hear Nintendo DS games. For the entire Labor Day Weekend. That's right; you heard me.
Upside: 1) together time; 2) husband embarrassed by feminist bumper stickers nevertheless gets high fives from local lesbians; 3) rap CD boasts Run-DMC and Arrested Development so Katie lets the Vanilla Ice sh*t slide.

This is getting fun.

Downside: Unstable and “How Low Can You Go?” platelets force Concerned Gynecologist to furrow brow and say, in scary drama voice, “Postpone pregnancy until we find out what’s wrong with you.” Who doesn’t love hearing that?
Upside: Meat-eating, chain-smoking friends/relatives now have proof to declare, LOUDLY, “Eating organic food and exercising every day doesn’t do one g*ddamn bit of good. Pass the pork please.”

Okay, maybe I’m the only one who can find humor in possibly bleeding to death at a young age. I'm trying to stay upbeat. For a real winning point of view, let’s get back to New Orleans, that veritable laugh riot.

Downside: Starving refugees right here at home.
Upside: Blame the French. Or Clinton. That always works.

I’m really cooking now.

Downside: Chief Justice Rehnquist, that old conservative with a bad attitude, dies and a spot opens on Supreme Court for someone else who wants to deny women equal pay, take away safe and legal abortions, and return us to pre-World War II-era social constraints.
Upside: While trying to juggle Katrina, Iraq, Roberts and Rehnquist, Dumbya might just explode. And the news media can still blame everything on poor, black folks.

Every grey cloud has a silver lining. Or, as my old peeps The Grateful Dead used to say, every silver lining’s got a touch of grey. Which will it be?

Downside: Depressing news, outrageous gas prices, broken automobile and diseased blood.
Upside: Goodbye cleansing – hello, happy hour!

Like I said, it's all in the way you look at it.