Where parenting and politics meet, but don't always play nice.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
I Get the Best Emails - Ongoing
To: Kate From: Doc Subject: A Christmas Prayer
Dear Lord,
Thank you for another year... I know I probably didn't do as much as you wanted me to, but thanks for forgiving me for that, too.
Thank you for looking out for me again this year... and thank you for the people I met, good and bad. Take care of those people I've lost, look after those I've lost touch with and those who've lost touch with me. Thank you for watching over us all... Christians, Moslems, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists and agnostics, pagans and everyone else. You know many of us probably don't deserve it... but I guess that's grace for you.
Thank you for not forgetting me, when I forgot you. Thank you for not taking me too seriously, and giving me miles to go and mountains to climb. Thanks for not taking me in vain, though I used your name that way a few times... well... a lot of times.
Thanks for minimizing the bullies in the world and providing them with the Darwin Award to aspire to.
Thanks for the abundance you've given me... but also thanks for the things you've taken away. It's been through the things I've lost that I have learned to appreciate the blessing, gifts and talents you've given me more.
Thanks for the angry people in my life, because looking at them taught me how I don't want to appear to others. Thank you for the ignorant people in my life for showing me why I have to keep learning so as not to embarrass myself in front of others. Thank you for my ex-wife, who proved to me how selfish, self-centered and foolish one person can be when they believe they can do no wrong... and how many people they can hurt without caring.
Thanks for my disabilities... but thank you even more for my abilities, my sense of humor and fairness. Thank you for making me scrupulous and having an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong.
Thanks for my parents... for the time I had with them... and showing me what I missed when they weren't in my life.
Thanks for my doctors... though I don't always trust them, but they have had some success in making me a healthier if somewhat different person than I was before... I think it's the drugs. But, most of all thank you for You... and I pray in the coming year that those who don't really know you, those who view your word as inflexible, not dynamic, and locked in time may have the broomsticks removed from their asses and finally see the beauty in their neighbors... not because the Constitution tells them they have to... but because You do.
Some people complain about family. They write somber novels, produce trite movies, and drink themselves silly in some vain attempt to forget their roots and erase from memory about a trillion bad experiences.
Poor bastards.
Clearly they’ve never partied with the Durkin clan of northeastern Pennsylvania, where the good always outweighs the bad. There are different last names – Finans and O’Malleys, to name a few – but I’m including all of them under the Durkin umbrella. ‘Cause I’m a big-tent kind of girl.
My family is large, strange, crazy, complex, loving, and utterly spectacular. A cousin got married a few months ago and so his parents, my aunt and uncle, threw a party for them this past weekend. Thanks to lower gas prices and a relocation to Florida, the Robinsons were able to attend. We spent some time with my brother and his lovely wife in Philadelphia and then proceeded to Scranton for the reception.
Whenever you get a largely Irish Catholic bunch and mix in Jews, Muslims, agnostics, three Protestants, at least two Italians, some Poles, and alcohol – somebody’s gonna say something weird, funny, or both.
Here is a sample of what I heard over the past few days.
“I have the same reaction when reading her profile on Facebook that I have when eating a grapefruit.”
“Uncle Joe is in his element.”
“Your two children just offered to buy everyone in the bar a shot of whiskey with the money I gave them for Chanukah.”
“How’s DC? Wall-to-wall douchebags.”
“You’re a lot prettier and nicer than you used to be.”
“Mommy, some woman at the bar gave me her email address and said to contact her in about ten years.”
“Your husband is in his element.”
“I hate getting poked or pushed on Facebook. And why is someone always trying to get me to read Out in Left Field?”
“I liked your newsletter this year. My granddaughter isn’t learning enough curse words at school, now I have to keep her away from the Christmas cards.”
"Growing up, I spent a lot of time with the Jews. I'm probably the only Roman Catholic Jew you'll ever meet."
"Your kids make me feel like a super star."
"You don't have to hold in your tummy at all. I just heard three people say they're willing to give the vegan thing a try."
"No one told me sparkled tops weren’t in style anymore.”
“Do you see what I’m dealing with?”
"I'm not used to mingling with family while sober. Maybe I should hang out with your husband. He's been doing this for twenty years."
“Two doctors once told me that I wouldn’t live to see my fortieth birthday. That was twenty years ago. Meanwhile I’m fine. And those doctors? May they rest in peace.”
“I am not in my element.”
“The couple’s first dance is Afternoon Delight? He's got to be related to you.”
“Look at you, Catherine, in that little tiny dress, dancing up a storm. Confidence is no longer an issue, huh?”
"I know all the stories and haven't blogged a thing. Don't look so surprised."
That last comment was me.
I told you. The good always outweighs the bad. Another cousin is getting married next October.
Is anyone really sorry to see 2008 bite the dust? Filled with great joys and sorrows, this year blasted our conscience and bowels. What’s up with ABC canceling Boston Legal? Let’s review the last twelve months that took us from Colorado to Florida, and how it affected your favorite family of freak shows.
December – Oldest and Youngest star in a Christmas play at their school in Colorado Springs. Nana and Grandpa brave airline prices and frozen snot to attend. Husband observes that the play is not *exactly* Broadway because the actors pick their noses, the "theatre" looks like "the gym" and the children in attendance a) scream, b) sing louder than the performers, and c) pass gas that would choke a cow. Catherine gets drunk for the first time in ten years at Becky and David’s Holiday Party. Husband likes her better that way. Catherine endures uncomfortable silences with evangelicals at work when she wears shirt that says, “Oy to the World.”
January – Catherine and Husband celebrate New Year with Aaron and Melissa by playing Scruples. No other board game helps you learn about your friends, how long it took for them to have sex, and their thoughts regarding stale bread in a restaurant. It helps to drink two bottles of wine and some champagne. Best New Year since Becky and Catherine rang in ’84 with wine coolers and Don Henley songs. Oldest and Youngest turn 8 and the Patriots lose the Superbowl. Youngest decides he hates New York more than Colorado classmates. Catherine starts her own business - Durkin Writers Group – trying to craft articles and speeches without sarcasm or curse words.
February – The boys take hockey lessons so they’ll fit in with toothless neighbors. Catherine caucuses for Obama and becomes a vegan – uncomfortable silences at work get longer. She drags Husband and the boys through South Dakota and Wyoming to see Crazy Horse, Mount Rushmore, and Devil’s Tower. Driving in a snowstorm isn’t as much fun as it sounds. They pass one other vehicle during the thousand mile trip. "Did you see the driver smile at us?" I asked. "Yeah," Husband said. "He's thinking, 'Jews in a can. Yummy.’”
March – Snow days bring fun conversations with kids about the Holocaust and sex.
Me: What did you learn about in Hebrew School yesterday? Oldest: A lot. We learned about concentration camps. Me: Oh? What about them? Oldest: They put Jewish people in camps. We also learned about Anne Frank. Me: What about her? Oldest: She had very special diarrhea. (long pause) Me: I did not know that. Oldest: She wrote about her life in a concentration camp. Me: Oh. She wrote about that in a *diary* sweetie. Not diarrhea.
Youngest: What does s-e-x mean? Me (reaching for wine): I'm sorry, sweetie, what are you asking? Youngest: Colin at school was talking about s-e-x. What does it mean? Me: Sex is how mommies and daddies make babies. (Eight year-olds get the less is more, conservative version. Condoms and foreplay are another talk for another time.) Youngest: How do mommies and daddies make babies? (Oldest walks over to our part of the living room. Reading his mind is easy: Forget Sports Illustrated, what's Mom and Youngest talking about? After introducing terms like fallopian tubes and parenting after graduate school, I pray the conversation is over.) Me: Sex is okay to talk about here at home with mommy and daddy, but let's not go around discussing this with others. Let the other kids' parents decide when to tell them, okay? Youngest: Yeah, cause Colin still believes in Santa. Let him wait until graduate school to find out what his penis does. (I've seen Colin. He'll be in his forties before he finds out what his penis does. But that's another talk for another time.)
April – Catherine learns how to write without offending anyone and Durkin Writers Group finally gets paying clients. Husband loses bet with Nana. It snows in Colorado and Catherine takes the boys to Tampa for Spring Break. Upon their return, drama ensues. Oldest and Youngest’s principal blames said drama on Oldest’s swagger and Youngest’s confidence. Tells them to dial it down. Catherine starts memoir about teaching in Tampa because therapy is too expensive. Husband coaches flag football team and wonders if the temperature will ever go above 40.
May – Catherine’s up for her first review in Colorado school system. Confident it'll be positive and professional, she doesn’t worry. They say she’s knowledgeable and passionate. Strong work ethic. So far so good. Then they complain she’s not empathetic or compassionate or Christian enough. Plus she wears colorful sweaters. Then a snowstorm hits. The Robinsons decide the Robinsons belong in Florida – Catherine wishing she’d never told the state to “Kiss off.”
June – Family travels to Yellowstone and The Grand Tetons because the Robinsons love nature and wild animals from the safety of an automobile that does 0 to 60 in three seconds.
Husband turns 40 and wonders why he can’t see past his elbow. Nana flies out to Colorado and drives back home with Catherine and kids in tow. Hits Memphis for family fun where they learn about alcoholic musicians, Dr. King’s assassination and lynching. ‘Cause theme parks are for pussies. Get back to Tampa and Grandpa wonders when empty nest syndrome will become a reality instead of a dream.
July – Catherine starts a new job training teachers and Husband returns to regular commuting between Colorado and Florida. He pretends to miss the arguments over tofu. They put the house up for sale in Colorado just as housing market reaches all-time low - continuing their streak of lucrative financial planning.
August – Boys start 3rd grade at a private Jewish school where they won’t get into trouble for answering questions correctly. At home in Lutz, a good old-fashioned ass whipping was bound to happen. Next door neighbors step to the boys and Oldest tries to run inside. Husband pokes his head out the side door and says, "Defend yourself, son." Another moment later, Youngest sneaks away as well. "Don't leave your brother's side," Husband tells him at the front door. "They're trying to get out of it," I say. "Nonviolent resistance." "Not on my watch," Husband and Grandpa mumble. My boys ball up their fists and start swinging. The fistfight ends in a matter of seconds. The neighbor’s kids run home crying and vowing revenge. The boys are shook up and teary-eyed, but triumphant nonetheless. The next day, all four boys are the pool while Husband fires up the grill and Grandpa tends to the lawn. Catherine grabs a beer. When in Lutz, after all...
September – Catherine wears shorts and t-shirts and takes her boys to Little League. When officials ask for parents to play a quarter or inning or whatever the hell it's called, Catherine actually grabs a bat, hits the ball, and runs the bases. Correctly. She calls women "gals", drinks cherry wine and doesn’t complain about the heat or bugs or Grandpa anymore. She. Talks. To. People. Aunt Mimi comes to town and hardly recognizes her. Buys her a pair of True Religion jeans and encourages her to “sip” her cocktails.
October – Husband and Catherine celebrate 13 years of marriage, 20 years of couplehood and fall asleep watching Boston Legal. Catherine finishes her memoir and retains legal counsel and a bodyguard. Just in case. Nana continues cooking for everyone, Catherine is so happy she vows never to leave. Grandpa takes up hard drugs and blames it on his sinuses.
November –Catherine reconnects with Julie, one of her closest lifelong friends, as well as future stalkers on Facebook. The boys get high honor roll and Husband is home often enough to steal Grandpa’s coffee and remaining good moods. Obama gets elected. Catherine turns 39 – ready to rock and roll for her last year as a thirty-something.
The family and I took a little road trip. To Scranton. Pennsylvania. In the wintertime.
My cousin got married a few months back and so we're going to celebrate his nuptials with big to-do tonight at the Parish Center. In Scranton. Pennsylvania.
On the way, while reading, listening to music, yelling at my children to pipe down, and checking email - I made it a point to update my status periodically on Facebook.
'Cause I'm a multi-tasking queen. Here is a conversation I had with a couple of my closest online buddies. (I took out all references to porn. 'Cause I'm a lady, as well.)
Catherine is packing and getting ready for the big road trip in the morning.
Julie: PLEASE drive safe and don't talk to strangers - don't even look at them!!!
Brother: Took a look down a northbound road. Right away I made my choice. Headed out to my big four-wheeler. I was tired of my own voice. Took a beat on the northern plains. And just rolled that power on...
Husband: Is that Springsteen?
Julie: I don't get it.
Brother: Roll Me Away. Good road trip song. Don't get me wrong, Julie. Bob Seger is no Whitesnake...or any other shit you rolled to in the 80's.
Julie: I am so feeling right at home!!! Thank you!!! Whitesnake is Cathy. I can't even name a song they sang. BUT, I do love that you remember the good old days!!!
Catherine is thinking that maybe soy nog and brandy isn't the best drink when trying to pack for an early mornin' shove off.
Dalia: Too bad you can't swing thru Jersey on the way home.
Catherine is roadtrippin' it to Raleigh. Call me if something comes up!
Brother: Your friend Julie sent me a Facebook Friend Request. Funny, after all these years, chick still wants me.
Becky: Safe trip you guys! Have fun!
Catherine is eating apples at Burger King where pics of local hero Ray Miley killing bears hang. Love it.
Sister: Yeah, but isn't it cool that BK has apple slices?
Catherine is amazed. If you roll down the window in South Carolina, you can actually smell racism. And SuperDave's feet.
Chase: And yet, isn't Florida where the largest Confederate Flag flies, right in your city, if I'm not mistaken ... get over it, Florida's no better. Ever been to east Pasco?
John: She lived in Wesley Chapel and lives currently in Lutz Chase, I figure she knows to one degree or another that Florida isn't far from "Deliverance."
Ron: Paddle faster, I hear banjo music!!
Chase: I'm aware of that John, my point is that pointing a finger at South Carolina is a bit ironic, considering Florida's own issues. Racism is everywhere, I would say there are parts of South Carolina where it's rampant, and parts where it's not, just like any state.
Sara: Tell the Old Ball Coach the Hawkeyes are going to hand it to them on the 1st! And then run like hell...safely of course.
Catherine is leaving Raleigh with a chill in the air and the car until Husband gets some coffee.
Catherine is listening to Snoop and reading Stephen Colbert's book somewhere in Virginia. Hope we don't get shot.
Catherine is in Philadelphia. Smells delightful.
Catherine about to walk the streets of Philadelphia and spread some brotherly love.
Adam: Remember that the guy sitting on the steam vent isn't Santa, so don't let the kids sit on his lap.
Catherine is eating at The Plough. Free booze. May never leave.
Husband: FREE? Who said I'm payin'?
Becky: C'mon, you know we make you guys pay for it one way or another...
Catherine is going to see The Liberty Bell and Independence Hall this morning. Hope we don't get jumped by those burly Homeland Security guards.
Adam: ahhh...nothing like an afternoon filled with tourist-centered revisionist history.
Catherine: It wasn't bad. I still got teary-eyed and proud and sh*t. But Betsy Ross's house? That sh*t was totally made up.
Catherine is heading to Scranton. You heard me.
June: Cool! My grandmother lives there!
Catherine is surrounded by drunks, graves, and the rolling hills of Pennsylvania.
Steve: That sounds like me last night.
Catherine: Except that I'm related to most of the people in the graves here. And most of the drunks, too.
In our house, we break it down with a different theme each evening. Try these ideas and add them to your own celebration:
1st Night - Fun: Has to be something enjoyable. No other redeeming value necessary.
2nd Night - Homemade: The gift must be our own creation. Poem. Rant. Rave. Or stick figures glued together and colored with Crayola's finest. More than likely these are future decorations to be stored away and taken out each December until the kids graduate college. Gifts that keep on giving.
3rd Night - Books: They are a treasure and more valuable than jewelry. You heard me. Old, new, paperback, hard cover - doesn't matter. Whenever someone asks about movies for my children, I politely ask them to get books instead. A book is always better than the movie anyway.
5th Night - Practical: Underwear. Socks. Sweaters. Important stuff.
6th Night - Charity: We bust open the piggy banks and donate some money to a worthy cause. We talk about why Joshua House, Mother Jones or the American Civil Liberties Union deserves our cash.
7th Night - Educational: Must *encourage* the use of brain cells. Not their destruction.
8th Night - Freebie: Whatever you want. As long as it isn't dangerous or fattening.
Come up with some themes yourselves and don't forget to pass the latkes. Happy Chanukah!
The cologne that smells like alcoholic traveling salesmen smells even worse now.
Old Spice sponsored a contest recently through an all-things-penis-y blog called 'The Art of Manliness.' This site focuses on "uncovering the lost art of being a man."
I sh*t you not.
I've been to the Ale House on Sunday afternoons. It ain't lost and it ain't art.
"Homosexuality is not a victimless crime. It is a cruel moral perversion that wreaks moral, physical and spiritual havoc on men, women, children, families and institutions. The Bible makes no distinction between homosexuals, pedophiles, bestials and rapists. All are criminals, the toleration of which brings judgment on the land and devastation to children."
I wonder if Vision Forum condones killing children who don't observe the Sabbath. The Bible is all about that too. In a perfect world, right?
- submit to their husbands. - accept 'faithful' daughterhood, forgoing college to stay under a father's protection until marriage. - refrain from voting. - stay at home and teach their children.
We should boycott P&G, but let's leave haters like Matthew Chancey alone. Vision Forum's world is crumbling down and I, for one, am toasting their demise.
Yes, he's a fairy-tale believing bigot. He says unbelievably stupid things on national television.
But we are never going to win the fight for gay marriage and transform the United States into an inclusive country where gays and lesbians have equal rights until we get all the fairy-tale believing bigots on our side.
I wish it weren't that way, but it is. We have to accept it and get about changing minds and then the laws will change as well.
Fairy-tale believing bigots will not see things our way if we keep them outside the process. We have to welcome them into the conversation and let them play ball.
Rick Warren adds a touch of credibility to Barack Obama's inauguration for thousands of people who'd rather pretend this isn't such a big deal. They'd like to ignore this moment in history. They want to stay angry and bitter and opposed to change.
And now they can't because their hero is gracing the event with his and the Lord's presence.
We have to understand Barack Obama and the reasons behind his actions that appear to go against our liberal sensitivities. We have to be smarter than that.
We have to be smarter than the fairy-tale believing bigots. Because that's how we'll win.
Not a whole lot to gripe about during this holiday season.
Well. That's not entirely true. I got a lot going on, but that's another post for another time. Right now, I'd like to say that I'm digging family and friends.
I've seen families interact throughout the years - some healthy, some dysfunctional. The more people I meet, the more I'm grateful for those to whom I've been joined together by a higher power. I have never wanted to be a part of any crew other than my own. Don't get me wrong. The Durkin clan is nuts. No question. But they're my kind of nuts.
They are also kind, loving, considerate, and funny as hell. Siblings, spouse, children, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
They are mine all mine.
Friends are similar. At every holiday party this year, I see people who socialize together and never before have I realized the extent of my blessings. As I look back over my life, my closest friends are the best people I've ever met.
Period.
Whenever I've had the good fortune to meet a warm, loving, giving, funny, and smart human being - my good fortune multiplied ten-fold because they've stuck around. From new friendships begun two years ago to old friends coming back into my life to twenty-six years of solid companionship, my loves are my life.
And so, in the spirit of the season, I'd like to say - Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, and Happy Holidays to you all.
The boys at work like to hit Outback when vendors arrive to take us to lunch. No worries. Outback whips up a yummy salad for me upon request - greens, mushrooms, tomatoes, cukes, candied pecans. I top if off with some honey mustard salad dressing and nothing tastes better.
Then I find out that the honey mustard dressing is mayo based.
Thanks so much for sending this my way – it’s certainly a compelling story, but I’m afraid that I didn’t fall in love with the writing as much as I hoped I would. I think it’s a purely subjective thing, because the proposal and sample materials were well-written; you just need to find the agent who really clicks with this.
Thanks again for sending, and very best of luck with it!
I will continue to put myself, my heart, and my rockin' memoir out there. Not going to pull a George McFly or anything.
For those who missed it, my family dedicates one night of Chanukah to charity. We light the menorah and instead of receiving gifts, we give them. My children, husband and I talk about the charity, its work and importance. My kids bust open their piggy banks and together we donate money to a worthy cause.
Then I send them to bed, drink a bottle of wine, watch It's A Wonderful Life and jump naked into the nearest pool.
It's a routine.
I've been wondering which charity to choose when I got this email from Darby. Readers will remember her from a few weeks back - a high school friend who is facing cancer with strength, grace, and wisdom.
Here is an excerpt:
Dear Friends,
I am a lucky girl! I have been blessed with a loving family, a loving husband and AWESOME friends. In this holiday season when most of us are struggling to get a few decorations out, my neighborhood girlfriends have generously given of their time to create a charity to raise money for Dr. Emens' research trial.
The ‘Driving Miss Darby Charity’ has been created to actively support the research efforts being made to find a vaccine aimed at disarming Breast Cancer.
Our goal is to support the efforts of Dr. Leisha Emens and her trial patients as she continues in her quest to develop an innovative immune-based therapy for the treatment of breast cancer. Immune-based therapy is a novel cancer treatment strategy that uniquely recruits an individual’s immune system to fight cancer. This approach takes advantage of the body’s own ability to fight cancer in a highly specific way that avoids the debilitating side effects commonly associated with standard cancer treatments like chemotherapy and radiation. Successful immune-based therapies should also have a long-lasting treatment effect due to the ability of the immune response to persist and become re-activated at the first sign of tumor growth or relapse. Every successful cancer treatment being used today started as a clinical trial, a three-step research process to evaluate the safety and effectiveness of a new treatment.
Dr. Emens’ vaccine is currently in Phase I, Part II of the clinical trial process. To date, 41 women, who are Stage IV, metastatic breast cancer patients, have willingly given of their time and resources to be a part of this vaccine study. For 6-8 months we must find our way to Johns Hopkins to receive the trial vaccine and other conventional cancer therapies. We are asked to be at the hospital weekly and, during the vaccine injection week, daily in an effort to scientifically monitor our immune response to the trial medication. With such an intensive schedule, it has been hard to find the number of women necessary to complete the initial Phase of the trial and move forward to a more wide-base study.
The Driving Miss Darby Charity is working towards a goal of raising funds to support Dr. Emens’ research and provide awareness in the breast cancer community about her innovative therapy. During this holiday season, as you consider your end of year charitable contributions, please consider donating to the Driving Miss Darby Charity - where 100% of the funds will be given directly to Dr. Emens via the Sydney Kimmel Cancer Center.
It's no secret that I have a certain amount of contempt for religion. I don't even know if I believe in God, really. It depends on the day.
Combine this contempt with my liberal sensibilities and a brain and, oh I don't know, concern for my fellow human beings and *of course* I'm not swayed by religious arguments against gay marriage.
Here is a woman with a high regard for religious institutions and traditions, mapping out arguments that thoughtful and devout believers can refer to when arguing for gay marriage.
My full-time job has me swamped, part-time writing gigs pile up around me, and an agent wants to see a proposal for my memoir Learning Curves: Five Years in the Nation's Most Scandalous School District.
Side Note: If you have any experience with book proposals, email me and I'll send you mine to look over. Seriously. I've had two experts review the 17-page laugh fest and I need more eyes. Help a sister out.
Anyway, my point is this - I haven't had much time to devote to OILF and I'm so cheating today, by posting an email I got from Michael Moore. I found it an interesting read and thought I'd share.
If you don't like my plagiarizing ways, suck it. I'll be back to normal by Monday.
To: Catherine From: Michael Moore Subject: Senate to Middle Class: Drop Dead
They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers start building only cars and mass transit that reduce our dependency on oil.
They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers build cars that reduce global warming.
They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers withdraw their many lawsuits against state governments in their attempts to not comply with our environmental laws. They could have given the loan on the condition that the management team which drove these once-great manufacturers into the ground resign and be replaced with a team who understands the transportation needs of the 21st century.
Yes, they could have given the loan for any of these reasons because, in the end, to lose our manufacturing infrastructure and throw 3 million people out of work would be a catastrophe. But instead, the Senate said, we'll give you the loan only if the factory workers take a $20 an hour cut in wages, pension and health care. That's right. After giving BILLIONS to Wall Street hucksters and criminal investment bankers -- billions with no strings attached and, as we have since learned, no oversight whatsoever -- the Senate decided it is more important to break a union, more important to throw middle class wage earners into the ranks of the working poor than to prevent the total collapse of industrial America.
We have a little more than a month to go of this madness. As I sit here in Michigan today, tens of thousands of hard working, honest, decent Americans do not believe they can make it to January 20th. The malaise here is astounding. Why must they suffer because of the mistakes of every CEO from Roger Smith to Rick Wagoner? Make management and the boards of directors and the shareholders pay for this.
Of course that is heresy to the 31 Republicans who decided to blame the poor, miserable autoworkers for this mess. And our wonderful media complied with their spin on the morning news shows: "UAW Refuses to Give Concessions Killing Auto Bailout Bill." In fact the UAW has given concession after concession, reduced their benefits, agreed to get rid of the Jobs Bank and agreed to make it harder for their retirees to live from week to week. Yes! That's what we need to do! It's the Jobs Bank and the old people who have led the nation to economic ruin!
But even doing all that wasn't enough to satisfy the bastard Republicans. These Senate vampires wanted blood. Blue collar blood. You see, they weren't opposed to the bailout because they believed in the free market or capitalism. No, they were opposed to the bailout because they're opposed to workers making a decent wage. In their rage, they were driven to destroy the backbone of this country, not because the UAW hadn't given back enough, but because the UAW hadn't given up.
It appears that the sitting President has been looking for a way to end his reign by one magnanimous act, just like a warlord on his feast day. He will put his finger in the dyke, and the fragile mess of an auto industry will eke through the next few months.
That will give the Senate enough time to demand that the bankers and investment sharks who've already swiped nearly half of the $700 billion gift a chance to make the offer of cutting their pay.
My kids have been challenging lately. After two or three evenings of strong-willed and opinionated debates followed by consequences that feel like a punishment for me, too, I've daydreamed out loud about moving to Paris. Or the Middle East.
Alone.
I'm not a shouter or a spanker. I tend to look incredibly disappointed and take sh*t away from them. No electronics on television next weekend. Bed right after dinner. No dessert.
That sort of thing.
The other night, Oldest gave me a handwritten note. I smelled an apology and opened it skeptically. Boy. Was I wrong.
Dear Mom,
Remember when you said you would pay us a dollar for every time you cursed? Well, I did some math and you owe me and Youngest twenty bucks.
Love, Oldest
So apparently, they hear me when those disappointed looks are followed by mumbles that include "goddamn it," "stop being a pain in my ass," and "this parenting gig is for shit."
Equality Florida is hooking up with allies across Florida for a Rally in Tally on Monday, March 16.
Pissed about Amendment 2? Hate violence? Wanna help introduce bills that will repeal Florida's shameful ban on gay adoptions?
The rally will mark the start of the second annual Equality Florida Lobby Week. Come join the gang in Tallahassee for the rally, then stay for all or part of the week and talk to legislators about why all families matter.
To register for Lobby Week, March 16-19, click here now.
To: Catherine From: Favorite Uncle Subject: A Politically Correct Holiday Greeting
Best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral, winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice , but with respect for the religious persuasion of others who choose to practice their own religion as well as those who choose not to practice a religion at all.
Additionally, a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2009, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make our society great, without regard to race, creed, color, religion, or sexual orientation.
(Disclaimer: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and no responsibility for any unintended emotional stress these greetings may bring to those not caught up in the holiday spirit.)
Don't get me wrong - big fan of the pro-choice movement in general and Planned Parenthood in particular. They do a lot for women in need of a choice and inexpensive health care options.
Nothing kills holiday cheer quicker than thinking about a wart that needs freezing. You don't believe your daughter's New Year's resolution to lay off the football team? Fine, schedule a talk instead of reminding her with a gift under the tree that she's a little too much like her mother.
Then this embarrassing trend started making the rounds on cable news.
Failing to report sex between a thirteen year-old girl and a thirty-one year old man is disturbing on several levels.
The anti-choice movement is working hard to take reproductive freedom away from women. Encouraging children to hide or cover up statutory rape only gives the anti-choice crowd more ammunition.
Not to mention such a cover up is wrong. And against the law.
We can't risk a safe and legal choice over some attention-seeking stunts and illegal/immoral behavior on the part of several staffers in different states. We shouldn't hand Sean Hannity his headlines. Make him work for it, people!
Planned Parenthood must make some resolutions of its own for 2009. New leadership would be a step in the right direction.
Every year at Chanukah, my family devotes a theme to each night. Sometimes we give gifts that follow that theme - like Book Night or Education Night. Other evenings are named Fun or Freebie where the focus is on good times and the only requirement is that the gifts aren't dangerous or fattening.
On Homemade Night we make the gifts ourselves.
Yet another is Charity Night. We pick a worthy cause and give some of our money. The boys even dig into their piggy banks and we talk about the organization and why it's important after lighting the menorah.
Who should we give to this year? (First one that says the Republican Party gets a long, wet kiss and then a smack across the face.)
Seriously, there are many worthy causes and I'm open to suggestions. Nothing is jumping out at me, so feel free to point me in the right...err...correct direction.
And Equality Florida wants your opinion, too.
Fill out this survey and tell them where to focus their efforts.
An 8 year-old child is taken to a gun show and shoots himself in the face with an Uzi submachine gun. Dad is right behind him, but unfortunately isn't hit. Christopher Bizilj, the child, is killed instantly.
Dad gets on the news shortly thereafter to talk about the upside - lots of support from relatives and friends. Family values at their best.
And the asshole Don Humason whose placard is placed so prominently at the front of this crime scene? He's a gun nut, too.
If a kid was accidentally killed during a gay cruise, with an Obama placard on deck, and then the kid's two mommies got on television within the hour to talk about it, neocons would be freaking out. They'd be the first ones on Fox News and every right-wing radio talk show in the country screaming about a lack of values that's destroying our children.
Why aren't we discussing the piss poor parents out there who put weapons in the hands of children and then act surprised when the outcome is tragic? Why don't we question the politicians who support them? Why don't we talk about the hypocrisy of groups that purport to put family first, but really are only trying to further a right-wing political agenda?
I know. We don't want to appear judgmental or act as ridiculous as they do.
Meanwhile another child is gone. And the submachine gun was pried from his cold, dead hands.
I'd like a locally owned establishment in North Tampa with friendly faces where I can sip a glass of wine and relax with a good book. Maybe some enlightened conversation.
I'm not asking for much.
Not interested in the kind of place where Jody Foster got raped in The Accused. So Denning's Lounge on Florida Avenue is out.
Maybe Villaggio Ristorante? Yummy food. Except their bar only serves wine and beer. What about the days when a cosmopolitan calls my name?
The Red Elephant has a full-service bar, but it's way trendy. What about the days when I'm in jeans and a t-shirt? Plus I don't think it's locally owned.
Maybe Skipper's Smokehouse is more my speed. Relaxing, good music most of the time, and comfortable.
At a time when most Floridians are struggling to find or keep jobs and stay afloat, Representative Ray Sansom (R-Destin) is one lucky guy.
He got two new jobs in one day.
Sansom was named the new Speaker of the Florida House and got hired at Northwest Florida State College earning at least six figures.
You're probably thinking - so what? Dude's doing all right. Good for him.
Right.
Except that earlier this year, while Florida struggled through a budget crisis, Sansom guided $25 million to Northwest even though they only asked for $1 million.
Sweet deal, I know.
So what to do with Sansom? The choices are - we could:
- do nothing.
- buy him a beer.
- pressure his fellow Reps to censure him.
- demand he step down from public service and get a job on his own instead of with our money.
"Shut up, Grandma, we're playing with an evil doll!"
I have been downright crabby lately. I snap at my children, elderly drivers, and neighborhood kids going door-to-door for the American Heart Association.
"Don't you think you ought to lose the Snickers bar and Big Gulp when you're canvassing for health-related donations?" I asked while sipping wine. "Christ on his throne, that high fructose corn syrup will cost you more than I have in my savings account!"
Why am I so crabby?
Well.
A purple crayon found its way into the washer and dryer. I realized this *after* the entire load of laundry was ruined and my mom's dryer permanently caked with purple marks.
Good times.
Cold weather, mood swings, desertion and a blood disorder threatens to turn me into Winona Ryder from Beetlejuice.
But I look good in black so it ain't all bad.
I'm seriously considering a tattoo - inked across my face - with pretty spiral lettering that spells out: Use your inside voice and walking feet and for the love of Christ close your mouth when you chew that g*ddamn sushi!
Told you. Downright crabby.
I'm driving home yesterday behind a ninety year-old blind woman when Cowhead's show interrupted my homicidal imaginings.
Nothing makes me laugh like Satanic children's toys.
Check it.
All I have to do is picture midwestern, God-fearing mamas all up in arms over this doll and I start giggling like a schoolgirl who just discovered her life-size Yosemite Sam toy has special powers when played with at night behind a closed door.
If I find the doll in Target this weekend, it's going in my cart.
'Cause these days, a smile is a smile. No matter where it comes from.
-- Our health care system must be inclusive; no American can be left out?
-- The government must be an advocate for its citizens by setting and enforcing the rules so insurance companies put our health care before their profits?
-- A standard for health benefits should be established that ensures people are kept healthy and treated when they are ill?
-- We should have the ability to keep the health care that we have with the choice of a public plan so we’re not left at the mercy of private insurance companies?
-- Health care should be affordable for people and businesses?
A Colorado activist sent me this clip of Wafa Sultan. The title of the email? Terrorism 101: A Refresher Course.
I wanted to write back: Are you high? How about World History 101: A Refresher Course? Because if you think Islam is the only batshit crazy religion with batshit crazy adherents, you are sadly mistaken.
The world has been around a lot longer than the past few decades when Muslim loo-loos have been all the rage.
Love Wafa Sultan. Seriously. Big fan.
While I find her arguments compelling and her bravery admirable, I can't help but disagree with part of her premise.
She's wrong when she says that Jewish people haven't killed in the name of religion. They have blown up a ton of people in the name of Israel and the Jewish God. And what about Christians? It wasn't a Crescent or Star of David burning in black people's yards back in the Sixties South. Let's not even get started about those New England witches who were murdered back in the day for opening their mouths and speaking their minds.
You can't go after one without going after all three - that leaves a whole lot of ignorant and angry followers. The People of the Book indeed...
In fact, you could replace "Muslims" with "Jews" or "Christians" in the above clip and her criticisms are still valid.
A Jew killed Rabin. Doesn't anyone remember the Inquisition or Crusades?
She's right. Parts of the Koran are hateful. So are parts of the Bible and Torah. All three religions have shed the blood of innocent people. All three religions are part of the problem. All three religions are batshit crazy with batshit crazy adherents.
Just because Thanksgiving is over, doesn't mean the thanking needs to stop. No matter if you're for the war or against it (is anyone really for it?) - no doubt our soldiers could use a bit of love.
