following schemes

I know that someday I’ll control something.  I wish I wasn’t so frustrated; it all stems from feeling so powerless and weak–in almost every sense.  I’m emotionally strong, intellectually adequate, but none of that matters, really.  I’m missing something, and I just don’t know what it is.  I might never know, and I might just grow out of this feeling; maybe it is just a temporary thing, and once I start doing something new, have any sort of stimuli outside of whatever it is I have now, maybe I’ll calm down.   Maybe I’ll stop with all this anger…I know there isn’t anything wrong with me.  There is no medical condition that just causes short-fuses and rage, right?  If there was, I’d probably exhibit no other symptom.  I don’t go off on crying jags, I don’t go through manic phases, and I’m never depressed (in that clinical sense, of course).  I’m just very, very easy to anger–and when I do get angry, I can’t help but seethe and seethe with the most violent and hateful thoughts.   Just a regular tinderbox; but luckily, I suppose, I’m powerless.    I think, had I the fortune of being born male, I would’ve been a very strong, respected figure.   My anger would mean something, my revulsion would be beardstroked over, pondered, given consideration.  Maybe for the simple animal fact that I would have physical brute to back up any little blip of anger I felt.

Then again, in the masculine world, the odds are much better that your anger will actually get you…I don’t know, beaten up?  If you go around starting fights as a dude, it is fairly likely that at least once you’ll have that anger just beaten out of you.  You’d learn to keep it tempered.

I don’t keep it tempered, but I also don’t express it.  I’d alienate absolutely everyone I know if I let it be known how stupid-angry I get over things I couldn’t even possibly begin to control.  That’s just it, maybe.  I want so much to just choke it out, to make people see.  I never will though, I just don’t have “it”.  I know how much the “folks” of the United States would hate me, if they knew what sort of person I was, I know how much the people I ring out everyday would despise me; what sort of enemy they’d see me as.  I can’t help but do it myself, to one up them, I suppose, before they get the chance to know me–I know them, right?

Maybe not.  Logically, thinking, I know I can’t be so angry, there is nothing to be angry about, there are decent people on this Earth, people who would agree with me, and people who wouldn’t but wouldn’t hate me, either.

I really think it is a shame I became politically aware during Bush’s tenure.  He really polarized this country, to the point that as a young person I felt that my entire family and I were just unwelcome citizens, persona non grata.  There was just so much of that, everywhere I looked it just seemed like another issue was coming up that was treated like Jesus himself deigned it righteous, and that those who disagreed could either “love it or leave it”, or were just unpatriotic.  They made this bed, this bed that I’m seizuring with rage on, this where I feel like I am supposed to hate America, because they loved it.  Where I couldn’t possibly believe in God, because they used him to justify their ridiculousness and hate.   Where banners, ribbons and flags all make me shudder inwardly.  I know most of this country is completely apolitical; absolutely not interested.  I know that “my party” won–this time.  It just makes me sick to think I’m living in a country where the same people who made me feel completely, completely, completely unwelcome in my own country, now think they still have the right to do it still, even when “we” won.

Why do I give them all such power?  Why do I let their hate make me feel so much?  I don’t want to, it is very unhealthy.  I want to be mellow again, I just can’t be.  Every single day, I’m just so angry.  I don’t want to be.  I want to care about people, I want to be fair, I want to care about this country, I’d absolutely love to believe in something, but I can’t.  They took it away from me, and made it only for them, a representation of so much more insidious bullshit.   Why did I ever, and why do I still, let them define me and those like myself–which are, by and large, looking to be more and more a majority in this country?  Why have I let some increasingly marginalized group of radicals take anything away from me?

I want them to know how failed their movement was, I want Dobson to continue to admit the loss of the culture wars to reason and humanity, and I want those same people who so egged on people just like me, my grandfather, my grandmother, my mom and dad–making me feel so reviled, that my entire family would be considered wretched–I want them to ‘love it or leave it’.  I don’t know.  I wonder if it is more than this; it just seems so surface.  I just get so angry, so hateful.  I really don’t want to–I don’t enjoy the feeling, I don’t enjoy the thoughts, because there are plenty of fine, upstanding people who consider themselves Christian, patriotic, or even Republican in general.  They aren’t all bad people, it would be naive to think so.  It just seemed like nary a one of them was around from 2001-2007, when I was made to feel like I lived in a country that was going backwards in time, with absolutely no representation, none, for people who thought as I did.

I can’t help but think it is more than that, though.  I’ve felt that way for a long time, why would I just suddenly in the past year have uncontrollable fits of rage over something I’ve been aware of for years?

Maybe I do have some disorder.   I just couldn’t possibly guess which one would fit.  I mean, they all have auxiliary bits that don’t concern me.  Mood swings, kleptomania, depression, impulsive behavior.  It isn’t impulsive, I know when I’m going to get angry, I can see it coming, and I don’t really act on it, ever.  Totally out of fear of being noticably over-the-top though.  Like, I know I would feel better to hit something, or scream, or any of those basic sort of “eRrrrggghhhh im raaaggiiiingggg” things people do, but I can’t.  Partly, because it is just very unbecoming for a young lady to scream or hit a pillow or something, two, because screaming would make me hoarse and feel awkward (even if I was totally alone, I never, ever scream–not once in my life) and hitting stuff may very well backfire and hurt my hands, and finally, because it would really feel like I lost control at that point.

As long as I can keep it all in my mind, just inane, over-the-top fantasy that slowly drains me of my ragenergy with none the wiser, I’m still controlling it.

at all

I need to try and keep myself away from things I know will upset me, and maybe try and find some hobbies/distractions that don’t ultimately lead to something that makes me rage.  It is hard during an election cycle though, haha.  Just taking a jaunty little trip down to the local hair salonry will cause seething, teeth-clenching, and muttered, empty threats.   I render people who disagree with me at fundamental levels into little hate-golems, objects created to be taken apart, so I never having to face the humanity we may share.   I don’t want to know if they love their grandchildren; to me, they are monsters designed to be reviled.  I hate to hear they may agree with me at some level, I shudder to think they may share my interests.  I want the distance between me and them to be vast.  Then again, we’re all people.  Maybe that is what makes me so unhappy.  If I could explain them away, if I can convince myself that pigs deserve the slop they create, maybe I wouldn’t get so passionate.

It goes in and out, sometimes I just think, “Why not?  Why not just elect whoever-the-fuck the majority of dumbasses want?  Let this country become whatever Leave it To Beaver set-piece it is that they come for.  I’ll invest in grains and play along.  After all, I’m an upper-middle class white woman, how bad can it get for me?  Look out for number one.”  That soothes me, I suppose.  Knowing that all of my rousing passions and assorted issues, none of them really have much to do with me.  I’ll always get along and get by, no matter who is in charge.  Prisoners, homosexuals, ethnic minorities, immigrants, the impoverished, the handicapped, children: who gives a fuck?  None of them have much to do with me personally, and even in the most right-wing of conservative’s vision for America, I still succeed.   I can pretend to be interested in romantic comedies and Jesus, just as easily as anyone else.   I can bundle my irreverence all away, and be happy in my work as the wife to a middle manager who doesn’t talk much, and likes football and dogs.   Kenny Chesney sings a song and a smattering of moderately attractive and non-threatening women wear moderately attractive garb and make adequately sexual movements.  I bake some variety of sauced chicken, and at the end of the day we have some missionary sex in a queen-sized bed, outfitted in positively taupe sheets.

I could die like that, I suppose.

Really, the problem isn’t going to be solved by electing anyone in particular, it’s a cultural issue.  In a country where one in four adults didn’t read a single book in 2006, 23 percent of Texans believe Barack Obama is a Muslim, and 54 percent believe human beings didn’t evolve from other species, what more do I want?  There is only so much that can happen in a nation where saying “Happy holidays” in lieu of “Merry Christmas” is seen as rude, where “Secular Progressives” are a shady, dangerous organization, where morality and ethical judgments are attached to economic theories…What do I want, and what do I expect to see change in my lifetime?  I’m the outlier, beyond measure, outside of the graph.   I suppose things could change, all things do progress at some level.  Though I doubt I’ll ever see the day where a politician who represents me and my issues will be something more than a punchline.  Or someday, Gallup and Pew researchers throw up their hands at a sudden shift in their survey results.  A poll that doesn’t say 40 percent of Americans believe in ghosts!  Nearly half of this country believes in ghosts?  Everyday, I am looking at a person who may honestly believe ghosts exist?  It’s that sort of thing that gnaws away at me with every interaction.

When was the last time you read a book, clerk?  Was it some sort of young adult fiction, something intended for an audience much younger than you?  Was it perhaps some kind of self-help book, or something of a religious bend?  Do you believe in God?  Do you believe in a literal interpretation of the Bible?  If you knew how I felt about _____, would you still smile at me?  If I were to run for public office, would 48 percent of you refuse to vote for me because of my nonbelief?  Would you be in that group, driver-on-my-left-hand-side?

You may not be a bad person, driverclerk, I’ve met plenty of people who align themselves to the right of the political spectrum who I think are perfectly fine human beings.  Same goes for religious people, for people who don’t read a lot of books, for anyone.   Maybe though, maybe it is just because they don’t know me well enough to hate me, to be disgusted, to brand me un-American and remind me to “Love it or leave it”.

I guess it’s just frustrating, knowing how much I’d be raged against if I was visibly identified as well, what I am.  It’s the way it is though, and there is no changing nature.  All I can do is have little vignettes in my head, of me berating and “taking down a peg or two” whatever golem-strawman has earned my ire (deserved or not) at that moment.

I ain’t proud, life.

simple math

Trig was breathless.  He’d just gotten off of his future-elliptical, an exercise that his family practitioner had suggested, the idea behind it being that the cardiovascular activity may decrease the risks to his health his malformed heart had laid at his feet, some 17 years ago.

The year was 2025, and he was still living at home, with the She who had brought him into this world: kicking, drooling, and rubbing shit in his hair.   Things were different in his mind, though.  He couldn’t control the way he behaved, the way he looked, the way his tongue rubbed against the roof of his mouth, or the way his mother sighed daily.  If it was up to Trig, he would’ve been the rugged mountain man his sainted mother had dreamed of producing, but it just wasn’t meant to be.  So it goes, c’est la vie.

His assistant helped him to the couch, and removed his working out sweat-shorts and diaper.  Trig admired his own body in the full-length mirror.    His stout, short torso was a masterwork by the most ancient of artists, our Lord Jesus Christ the Savior.  His stubby, thick arms travel downward, to his delighted penis.

“Unghfffom!  Fuhlk! Waaaaa~~”, he chortled, gnarled teeth gnashing together, grinding with pleasure.  “No, no, Trig!  What would your mother say about this!” tch-tch’d his assistant, shaking his head.  Trig allowed his mind to wander, as far as it could wander, to thoughts of his mother.  “Mmmeeoorrr…” he considered, dreamily allowing his head to slip down to his barrel-chest.  He drifted.

She comes into the room, dressed in her 1984 Miss Alaska pageant swimsuit.  It’s a wonder she can still fit into it, only draping around the breasts, their fullness depleted by eighteen years of breast feeding.  “Trig, it’s time for lunch,” she called, that sly lilt in her voice that meant it was going to be a fun evening.

She had prepared her breasts by massaging them with the dripped oil from last night’s moose based dinner.  Trig prefers the taste of the meat, rather than the musky taste of his mother’s milk.    She unzips the custom breast flaps on the swimsuit.

Her pendulous bosoms are inviting, soft and downy.   Trig smiles to himself, coyly pawing at his junk.

His teeth gnash against his tongue, and he mouth-mounts his mother’s breast.  He begins suckling, and she moans softly.   The blinds draw closed, as if by magic.  The curtain closes.  We’re left to wonder, as is Trig, what goes on from here.

He is wiped.

piggy pig

This is disgusting.

Almost as disgusting as the thought of Triglodyte spitting up all over himself at the teat of his dried-out cunt of a mother.

Keep trying, broads.  Maybe someday soon the floor will drop out from under me and I will become so disgusted by you people that I’ll just weld a dick onto myself.  We make up at least fifty percent of the population in this country, give or take.  To act as if we’re some downtrodden group on the same level as the black population in the U.S., or the Hispanic population, it is beyond ridiculous.

If we’ve got it so bad, fight.  Don’t just whine, don’t just prove true the ancient meme that women are over-sensitive and quick to accuse a man of personal attacks (“GASP U THINK IM FAT JERK I KNO WATCHU MEAN”, “LIPSTICK ON A PIG WELL JEESH OBVIOUS”), and whatever you do, don’t act like cunts.  It’s a man’s world, and I’ve never had one moment’s problem living in it.  You know why?  I don’t act like some hen who can be felled at the drop of a well-timed physical insult.  Sure, women have more pressure to look good than men do, that doesn’t mean it’s illegal for you to get fat, or have a big nose.    No one is stringing you up in a tree for being an ugly, oversensitive cooz.  Meanwhile, black men HAVE been strung up in trees for the agregious sin of whistling at your type.  You got your big, strapping white-knight to do that for you, with your witchy wiles.

I have a very masculine-oriented personality, and whether or not men are threatened by it is no concern of mine.  If I can never find a suitable mate who accepts my more confrontational, blunted affect traits commonly seen in men, that’s fine.  I’ll be alone, because they haven’t outlawed that, either.  It’s okay to be alone, so stop complaining about men not wanting you because “you’re smart”, or “plain”, or whatever else it is that you feel holds you back from a relationship.  Maybe it’s true, but so what?  Should legislation be passed requiring all men start to appreciate inner beauty?   Men have their own pressures.  Men have to maintain a steady income, at the very least.  Men can’t cry.  Men can’t feel.  Men can’t empathize.  A solitary man ends his life alone, in some one bedroom apartment, with nothing but memories of work and lost opportunities to express himself.   Love is stilted, not as full.  Hate is tampered, not as white-hot.  Happiness is a smirk, and a derisive laugh.  There is no delirum; he can’t work if there is giddiness.

I think we can all agree that God is a cruel gear existing in a plane far beyond our comprehension, turning and working against mankind, and if you grease him with enough blood he may shift in your favor.    Until that day, we are disabled.

fetid maw

I am absolutely disgusted by Sarah Palin.  Not for the obvious reasons, no, not the TrooperGate, not her stance on abortion, not on the fact that the decision to nominate her as vice-presidential candidate alongside McCain was the most transparent grab for former Clinton supporters that I’ve ever seen…No, the reason I feel ill to look at Sarah Palin is this:

The age at which she had her last baby.  To me, a woman that age having children is irresponsible and selfish, not to mention (if you’re into this sort of thing) that it goes against the very nature of Man that God has seen fit to instill.  Women are not meant to have children late into life.  Any doctor worth his salt would dissuade a woman from pursuing pregnancy past a certain point, biologically.  Depending on when her menstrual cycle began, a woman’s eggs start to go, for lack of a better word, rancid as she ages.  Generally, this begins in the late thirties to early forties, and a woman will be completely unable to conceive once menopause has finished ravaging her sugar walls.

Medical research has afforded us many luxuries, luxuries the good lord himself didn’t see fit to provide.  Cures for illnesses that would be wiping out high percentages of entire generations had they not been discovered, surgery, fertility medication, and breast implants.   One thing mankind is still shouldering, however, is Down’s syndrome.  When you have a baby past (arbitrary pick of age, your doctor could explain this better) 40, the probability of your child being born disordered goes up in a very non-arbitrary way.  If you want a baby, and your interior sacs and assorted viscera is too rotten to produce healthy offspring, adopt a child.  For all the children wasting away in state and private facilities all over the world, and you’re too high-on-your-own-genes to adopt one?  You really think that your decades old genetic material still has enough get-up-and-go to make one more kid, when many women your age are already completely infertile?

She knew the risks, and she had the baby anyway.  That’s not bravery, that’s not strength, that’s willful ignorance at best, and belief that her genetic material (even when outdated) is superior to all others at worst.  Wanting your genes to carry-over into the next generation, no matter what the cost to the child you produce, is selfishness.  Adopt, adopt, adopt.  Christ, adopt a kid WITH a disorder if you believe you can take care of such a child.  That you can live long enough to take such care.

I don’t know, maybe it’s an overreaction on my part, but it’s just the thought of so many kids waiting to be adopted, all over the world, and someone feeling that they need so desperately to carry on through the coming years through their progeny–it just upsets me.  Personally, I think creating multiple children, a little horde, is sort of irresponsible as well.  I know it’s not popular opinion, and I understand that it’s sort of odd to take issue with, but I just do.  I don’t suggest we round up older families or big families and throw them in interment camps, but I don’t think it’s anything to be proud of, or that we as a culture should encourage.  Our population is huge, much bigger than ever would’ve been naturally sustained, and it just seems like a waste to keep creating more and more kids when so many go without families already.

One child to each couple, if I somehow could run the world with an iron fist.  Then again, how do you enforce such a law?  I suppose mandatory vasectomies and mastectomies.

All I know is, I don’t think it’s brave when someone insists on bringing more and more children into this world.  It happens, but it’s not a positive ’story’ for me.  I don’t find it heartwarming, not in the slightest.  Now, had she adopted that baby, it would’ve been an entirely different story.  Or a family that adopts many children, that is heartwarming to the very blackest of cockles.

dash it

John Edwards, for having gotten his bone on a couple times, is declared a hypocrite by Barnicle and Schuster on Hardball.

First, I fail to see how infidelity would immediately make all his previous statements, specifically those regarding poverty in this country, void. They’re throwing this story up as if John Edwards was running on the Family Values ticket, like he’s a Promise Keeper, and like his personal fidelity has any bearing on his political aspirations or the platform on which he stood.

Also, I hope this story doesn’t run too long. After all, the man is no longer a sitting senator, and he’s not presently running for office, so his story should really be trumping the Ted Stevens bribery situation, who is, by the way, still holding office. Don’t be mistaken, it’s not just Stevens who should be held accountable for all this, but it’d be nice if at least one of them was getting as rough a public sodomizing as Edwards is sure to get for being a cad to his wife.

Mostly, it seems to me that the media never had much in the way of love for John Edwards. He came off a bit sharky, a touch used-car salesman, and let’s not forget that haircut of his! Who possibly could? After all, a man who is running for President should be rough and tumble, pausing only to trim his hair on occasion, with the same scythe he uses to fell wild brush at his luxurious farm in Texas! That’s a real man. See where that got us? Maybe it’s time to elect a guy who actually gives a shit; about his hair, about international opinion of us, about the future, about the people in this country that make under a hundred grand?

Really though, the disdain some members of the press have for Edwards have some very transparent motives: he was talking the talk about poverty, and not ‘walking the walk’. Wealthy people tend to spit up their 1857 Infant’s Blood when one of their own says something about the poor, because, after all, if you’re not actively engaged in something, you shouldn’t have an opinion on it. It’s completely circles within circles though, because the impoverished have little-to-no power in the government, as they can’t produce the funds needed to run a campaign, and need representation in the higher castes.

So, some need to speak for the many, but when they do, they’re hypocrites, because they spend the money that they have on the things that they need. For instance, a presentable haircut on a man who is going to be on camera eighteen hours out of the day. Or say, a former Vice President lives in a nice home, but publicly speaks out against global warming, all the while never suggesting American’s have to move out of their homes and back into caves. Since he’s not chewing twigs and living under a bed of grass, he’s not to be taken seriously. Because, of course, a man who HAS been living naturally for the past ten years isn’t going to be called a crackpot moonbat and immediately discredited as an ‘extreme leftist loon’. You’re damned if you, damned if you don’t. If you’re in the thick of it, you’ve got no power or you’re ridiculous. If you’ve got power and you are concerned, you’re a hypocrite until you move to the woods and give up all material goods.

YOU BLUE BLOOD PIG HOW DARE YOU GIVE A FUCK UNTIL YOU LIVIN IT
–luvs, some other rich dudes

As an aside to Mike Barnicle: talking about hypocrisy, you really want to play that? As a journalist, aren’t you supposed to substantiate everything, confirm sources, and…write about events in the way that they actually occurred? Isn’t that the sort of basic, primary thing you’re supposed to do?
So, one could say, a journalist who doesn’t write his own material and doesn’t confirm sources would be a hypocrite, yes? It’s less of a jump than politician fucks around, so he can’t be taken seriously about the issues anymore, right? Well, it’s a good thing you’re not known for such behavio–
WHOOPSY DOODLE!

How did you land this sweet gig on Hardball, anyway? You should’ve been shamed right out of Washington, just like you were shamed right out of Boston.

As for Schuster, meh! I generally like the guy, but I think he’s off on this one. I’ll give him this though, he’s a little doggy on any politician’s ankles, he doesn’t play favorites. I can respect that, even though he’s absolutely buying the line on this Edwards story.

And that’s my…complaint…about Hardball…of the daaaaay!

rahm gall

Ron Paul was a bit of a joke of a candidate, and most all people who supported him were internet nerds, people who don’t want to pay taxes, and people who don’t know a single thing about politics, except that “RAR RAR EVERYBODY IS WRONG WHY CANT SOMEONE ALTERNATIVE RUN THE COUNTRY FOR ONCE”.

I get where they’re coming from, I’m more often than not disappointed with the Democratic Party’s decisions, lack of will, and general acceptance of their second-tier party position. The answer isn’t in a silly little old man with silly little ideas, the answer is in true Progressives getting spots in the legislature. My answer, at least.

What is your Libertarian dream-world modeled after, anyway? Ayn Rand’s wet dreams and a prayer?
What is a successful Libertarian society that can be cited as an example of it’s translation into the real world, you know, out of the thought’s of a guy wearing an ugly sweater setting up a “RON PAUL RON PAUL RON PAUL” camp in Second Life? That dog with two dongs thinks you ought to be able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and make your own decisions about where your kids go to school I mean gtfo if u dont

Where on Earth is it that the government doesn’t mandate the minimum wage? Did Ron Paul’s legion of waitstaff and young people really think that the market is going to look out for them?

Ron Paul was a strange-minded, anti-science, little old fellow who managed to be able to fit his name into the internet culture; all together, a blip on the political register. His supporters, the lot of them young people who are liberal on the social issues, will eventually fall in line with the Democratic party and accept that they are at heart, progressive, or they will just abandon the political process.

This is a two party system: Welcome to the USA! More focus should be on redefining the parties, maybe even “broadening the tent”, not allowing completely unproven and untested political theories have a lot of say in our governing. Libertarianism as a platform had some interesting ideas, to be sure. So does Socialism, so does Fascism, so does Democracy, so does Communism, so did (my personal favorite) Oligarchies. I’m not opposed to folding in some of their policy ideas into the fray, but an entire Libertarian presidency? Ridiculous, it’s impossible. It never will happen, and never has happened. At least the other political theories I cited have little deformed feet and tiny boots to stand on, they’ve been put into play at some place in the world and in time, but their’s is a completely untested hypothesis.

That doesn’t change the fact that they had some interesting ideas, a few of which I could definitely get behind.

One issue I felt Ron Paul had a lot of good points on, was crime. He was my Dog on crime, from what I understand. Interested in rehabilitation, alternative sentencing, opposed to the death penalty, the full nine yards. Few politicians get my vote when it comes to crime, as they all try so desperately to out-tough each other, due to Willy Horton ads of the past, and just the whole war on crime/drugs atmosphere created under the 80s administrations.

One thing I’ll give the guy, which I don’t give this to many people, is that he was pro-ALL-life. He was anti-abortion, but I find that a lot more toothsome and understandable when a guy is also anti-capital punishment, and anti-miltary draft. His platform didn’t want any person’s (as defined, also fetuses) murder sanctioned by the state.

As for the tax issue, which is of course, the main craw-sticker of the Libertarian’s Cheap Old Sweater, Musty Corduroy Slacks, and Ugly Old Mustache contingency; be real with me, baby! All successful nations, nations measured as more successful than the United States, tax their citizens a hell of a lot more than we do. The way of the future, clearly, is a more socialized system of government. Primitive worlds had small tributes, the modern industrialized nations have big taxes, and their citizens live a lot longer and better than the former’s.

I think Libertarians need to exist in our country, just the same as any ‘alternative’ political doctrine needs to exist. To provide advocacy of something new, something different. To encourage debate and thought. I just happen to think their overall image of the future of this country is absurd. Many excellent points are made by the Libertarian party as whole (Civil liberties issues, privacy of information, a lot of foreign policy decisions, free trade, net neutrality) , and anything that encourages reflection on our current policies is good, but I’d never vote for one, based on the tax theory. I think it’s not the most insane idea I’ve ever heard, there has certainly been worse theories presented, but like I said, be real. Look at every other nation we can measure as a success in the world: how are their people taxed? How long are they alive, and how well are they living? How happy do they poll? How progressive are their policies? How socialized their medicine?

The answer isn’t in a tiny government that is drained of all it’s income, the answer is in a refocus of our current government and our tax money, and a return to it’s former strength under…any administration other than our current one.

That is the way this country is going to have to turn, if we want to keep up with our Canadian Joneses, and our European Johanesses.

Which, I assume, we do.

p.s. if any canadians, danes or swedes find themselves reading this in between visiting the doctor and frolicking in a beautiful countryside among other 6′5 statuesque archangels, feel free to marry me

too much

Hilary Clinton gave a very adequate speech today, that I was more or less happy with. The only thing that stuck out as rage-inducing was her insistence that she, as a woman, running for elected office was hitherto absolutely unheard of.

I’ve got no problem with the ladies, sisters are doin’ it for themselves and all, but don’t act like you’re breaking new ground in the world, that you’re the one to finally shatter that political ‘glass ceiling’. You’re not doing me any favors, ma’am. I’d be ashamed if the first female president of the United States was such a panderer, and a woman who wouldn’t even have a prayer in a Senatorial election if it wasn’t for the former office of her husband, that Clinton brand.

When I picture America’s first ladytype president, I picture a woman who really did make herself completely. I don’t disparage HRC’s career, and what she’s done for herself outside of politics, but I’d want the first female president to have came from a clean slate, one who entered politics standing on her own platform. That’s strength. It discourages me when I see that if a woman wants to hold office, she has to be attached to a popular man who already did, and when she does so, she acts as if this is a new feat. It’s very dependent, which is something that wouldn’t make me shine the light of pride from my terrible, terrible, dark and secret place.

That’s enough of that, really. She’s suspended her campaign, she gave a lovely little speech, and she is, after all, a Democrat. It just aggravated me to see all the self-patting over something that has been done before. An entirely different blog could be written about her more fervent supporters, a clan of cavebears, fags, hags, and cuckolds.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against cuckolds, hags, and fags (but i can’t stand those goddamn cavebears RUINING THIS COUNTRY, CAUSIN 9/11), and I don’t have a problem with someone who chose Hilary Clinton over Barack Obama. It’s a matter of choice, and hey, we’re all Democrats. I had to remind myself of that often during the course of this primary. Those that earn my ire are the ones that say they’ll vote for McCain before they’ll vote for Obama. I know that they’re probably just saying that, but even the suggestion I find distasteful.

If you’re a woman, voting for McCain out of bitterness is about the silliest thing in the world. He’s not the candidate for you, not on “women’s issues“, not on personal dealings with women, not to mention that the you of 6 months ago was a Democrat, which is about as far away from John McCain as his urine stream is from it’s intended destination.  More on John McCain’s incompetence and presumed incontinence in a later blog.

Also, I’d love for the 40+ women of the voting block to rise above the vindictive harpy stereotype. Don’t ruin this for all of us, just because you didn’t get your girl.
Women in power is not unheard of. After all, we are naturally about half the population. We already have some power.   Sure, we don’t all have it as easy as a wealthy white male, but no one does, and depending on our tax bracket, we’re just one notch below.

What is unheard of, is a member of a minority population being the leader of their nation. Less than twenty percent of people in the United States are black. He’ll be the first leader of a country that is mostly comprised of people other than his ethnic group. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. If I’m incorrect, Mystery Blog Reader, feel free to show me an example or two.

Blah blah I love Barack Obama blah blah blah

What I really opened up this “New Post” window for was this news:
Al Franken Wins Minnesota’s Primary Sort-Of Thing, Becomes Democratic Nominee for Senate!

Minnesota used to be a real Democratic hold out, but things started swinging red in the past years. We know the pendulum is heading back in every other state, the special elections this year attest to that, and the record Democratic turn-out in this primary season as well, so it makes sense that Minnesota will come back home.

What I love about Al Franken, aside from him being the dingdang funniest fellow in town, is that he is a true Progressive, a man that isn’t shirking away from the liberal label. He’s really “one of us”, in a sea of “sort of like”s, “not as bad as”, Joe Liebermans, and “lesser of two”s.

Interesting note, Minnesota’s Democratic Party is technically The Minnesota Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party, which I believe speaks to their progressive past, and hopefully, their progressive future. Senator Wellstone was their representative for an unfortunately short amount of time, another man who was never afraid of the “Liberal” label, and did what was right.  More disparagement of the false femininity charges levied against liberal men in a later blog.  WARNING: it will more than likely turn into something about leather daddies, the gun portrayed as an extension of the dongus, and a criticism of the modern-era’s definition of masculinity at it’s trunk.

I didn’t write this blog half as funny as it should’ve been, but I’m sure I’ll get into my groove, and boy, I’ll have to prove my humor to you. I’ve been saving my hateful screeds for Myyyyyspace bulletins for so long, it feels so strange to give something a title, and to have a little visual editor above me. Oh good, they have HTML as an option too. That will feel more homey.

This blog will get funny, I promise :0) :0) :0)

:0)