You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2008.
Dear Mitt Romney,
The main reason you’re losing is that people think you’re phony and “plastic.” One of the reasons you come off this way is that you pretend that you’re too unflappable to ever get angry. Instead you make snide remarks. Despite all this effort to hide your anger, the bitterness still seeps through. For the love of Mike, would you just lose your temper and tell someone to go to hell, even if it’s wrong. Show some moxie.
Also, some friendly advice: stop trying to be funny. You’re not funny.
Your sister (in the religious sense, not implying anything funny),
Madhousewife
P.S. You still look fabulous.
Dear Mike Huckabee,
We all know the only reason you’re still around is because you’re sucking up to John McCain, hoping he’ll make you Vice-President. Or, alternatively, because you just can’t effing stand Mitt Romney. No offense, but you’re starting to get on my nerves. I just had to say that.
Sincerely,
Madhousewife
P.S. You’ll never be Vice President if I have anything to say about it. Which I don’t. But if I did, dude, you would and ought to be worried.
Dear John McCain,
Don’t you dare make Mike Huckabee your running mate.
Love, Madhousewife
P.S. You’re lucky I enjoyed your books so much.
Dear Ron Paul,
Are you a Republican, or are you a third-party candidate? Please decide. Thank you.
X’s & O’s,
Madhousewife
Dear Barack Obama,
Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m counting on you losing. Everything depends upon it.
Yours truly,
Madhousewife
Dear Hillary Clinton,
There are worse things than you being President. Like, what if the world exploded? That would totally be worse. Pay no attention to the haters. You just keep doing what you do.
Your sister (in the quasi-feminist sense, not implying anything funny),
Madhousewife
P.S. Muzzling your husband? Not necessary.
Dear McDonalds,
Ordinarily I’m not a fan of your work, but this morning I found a package of cold Chicken McNuggets in the front seat of my car, and I ate them. They were delicious. Damn you.
In self-loathing,
Madhousewife
P.S. Your cold fries, on the other hand–disgusting.
Dear Mitt Romney,
Yes, it’s me again. You should seriously consider Frank J.’s advice over at IMAO. There are still a few days before Super Duper Tuesday. Plenty of time to change your image.
Yours in Mormanity,
Madhousewife
P.S. Hair grows back.
Princess Zurg and the Problem of Gender
Princess Zurg: Men and women are just so different.
Giraffemom: They are.
PZ: They have different points of view.
Giraffemom: They do.
PZ: They even have different points of view going to the bathroom!
Princess Zurg and the Enemy
Princess Zurg has a nemesis in her classroom. For the sake of privacy and propriety, he shall henceforth be called “Dummyhead.” Not a day goes by that she doesn’t complain about how Dummyhead is making her life miserable just by being him. Sugar Daddy’s advice about dealing with difficult people was to think of one good thing about the person, no matter how trivial a virtue it might be.
So this morning at breakfast SD asked her, “Did you think of one thing you like about Dummyhead?”
PZ thought very long and hard and finally said, “His hair.”
“So the next time he annoys you, just think about how you like his hair.”
“Is that really supposed to work?” she asked incredulously.
SD assured her that he did the same thing when he had to deal with people he didn’t particularly like or get along with, and it worked pretty well for him. With that he went off to work, leaving PZ to ponder the wisdom of her father’s words. After several minutes, she spoke again.
“I like his hair, but I don’t like the way it looks on his stupid head.”
What do you think the ugliest popular fashion in your lifetime was/is?
submitted by Vininia
submitted by Vininia
Wow, this is a toughie, given that I’ve been alive for almost 37 years. I’m going to go the old fuddy-duddy route, though, and say, “Underwear peeking over the waistline.”
Do you bottle up anger, or do you let it out, and how?
submitted by bobbyssn
submitted by bobbyssn
I bottle it up, then I let it out. You get bigger explosions that way.
What one or two lines of a song would you call the best lyrics ever written?
submitted by Through_Death_I_Live
submitted by Through_Death_I_Live
“We alone are fighting for metal that is true.”–Manowar, “Warriors of the World”
Would you eat meat from cloned animals?
submitted by Take0ver
Hell, yes. Unless it was cloned sushi.
Does the weather affect your mood? What are your strategies for coping?
submitted by kafekotka
submitted by kafekotka
The weather does affect my mood. I don’t like when it’s cold. I don’t like when it’s hot. I like it to be 74 degrees Farenheit at all times. Also, I don’t like an overcast sky. That depresses me. I have no strategies for coping. I’m just always in a bad mood.
Would you donate your remains to science?
submitted by black_lie
submitted by black_lie
No. Those cats are sick *******.
Do you think allowing a child to become obese can be considered abuse?
submitted by phoenixlives
submitted by phoenixlives
I suspect that one does not “allow” a child to become obese. One either supports the habits that lead to obesity, or one has no control over the weight gain that leads to the obesity. The former could be considered a form of abuse (depending on the circumstances); the latter can’t.
Do you celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day? How?
submitted by newyorkcompany
submitted by newyorkcompany
I celebrate MLK Day the same way most of America does. I thank the government for the day off and complain about the kids being out of school. Last year we made cupcakes, but this year we didn’t do much of anything. I think people may have been sick.
If you could write a letter to your past self (say, 10 years ago), what would you tell yourself?
submitted by LuCkyLiNdZy
submitted by LuCkyLiNdZy
Dear Self,
You think this is bad, just wait until the kids get here. Kidding! Seriously, though, stop whining. It’ll be over before you know it. Kidding again! Actually, it will seem to last forever, but in reality it won’t last forever. That’s the truth.
Love, Madhousewife
What’s your form of therapy?
submitted by flipnautick
submitted by flipnautick
Blogging.
What is the one thing that you’ll never do in life? Why?
submitted by pobbs
submitted by pobbs
Succeed. [Breaks into choking sobs]
Would you confront your best friend who talked about you behind your back ?
submitted by Abstraxcity
submitted by Abstraxcity
No. I would just talk about her behind her back. For real, I’ve done this, so I know that’s how it would go down. I never said I was proud. I’m just being honest.
Do you believe that sex offenders can change?
submitted by theyre_lying_to_u
submitted by theyre_lying_to_u
No.
What is the worst movie you have ever watched and why?
submitted by phil_leafman
submitted by phil_leafman
It is a cross between Godzilla (the 1999 version with Matthew Broderick) and Van Helsing. I didn’t make it through all of Van Helsing, though, so I’m going to have to go with Godzilla, because I lost more of my life to it. Why did I watch it? That’s the eternal question.
How do you deal with stage fright?
submitted by tenorikuma13
submitted by tenorikuma13
Suck it up and go on.
After years of marriage (or of a relationship), how do you keep the flames alive?
submitted by SuccessfullyRelate
submitted by SuccessfullyRelate
Spend time together. Also, realize that you’re too lazy to start another fire, so you better keep this one going at all costs.
What do you think is the most useful thing invented in the past 200 years?
submitted by midnight_muze
submitted by midnight_muze
Flush toilets. Not that it matters, in our house.
Do you think it’s possible to love an animal as much as a family member?
submitted by Kyotobaby
submitted by Kyotobaby
Definitely. I just think it’s a little sad when that happens.
What are five random facts about you?
submitted by TakingxOverxMe
submitted by TakingxOverxMe
1. I’m allergic to bees. 2. I can’t drive a stick shift. 3. I was the only adult member of my family who didn’t vote for Perot in 1992. 4. I’ve never seen an episode of Survivor. 5. I’ve never traveled outside the continental United States. I think I’ve admitted all these things before, except maybe the bee thing. ‘Twould appear there isn’t all that much to know about me.
What is your opinion on teenage pregnancies?
submitted by ehnvied
submitted by ehnvied
Believe it or not, I don’t think much about teenage pregnancies. I have stronger opinions about what happens after the babies are born. It’s a huge responsibility. Some teenagers rise to the occasion, and some adults blow it like nobody’s business.
What is the best thing to do when you like someone but he or she likes someone else?
submitted by StuckWithLove
submitted by StuckWithLove
Suck it up and go on.
I’m mourning the passing of Gordon B. Hinckley, the late president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It’s a strange thing to be so emotionally affected by the death of someone you never met, though I suppose this case is no stranger than perfect strangers mourning the death of Heath Ledger. I’ve seen exactly one Heath Ledger movie (10 Things I Hate about You), so while I appreciate the tragedy of a promising and talented actor (and father) dying at the young age of twenty-eight, I don’t feel a sense of personal loss.
There’s nothing tragic about the death of a 97-year-old man. Pres. Hinckley lived a full life, active and relatively vibrant pretty much until the end, and now he can rest and be reunited with his dear wife, whom he lost a few years back. It’s not sad that he is dead, but I am sad because even though I didn’t know him, I did know him. He was president of the church for twelve years, but he’s essentially been the public face of the church for the last almost-thirty years. Most of the men who preceded him in that office became severely ill and incapacitated in their final years, and the burden of leadership fell on Pres. Hinckley as a result. I’m not qualified to give his eulogy, and this isn’t a religious blog, so I’m not going to say anymore, except that I will miss his humor and Christ-centered leadership. And thus am I melancholy today.
On a lighter note, it would appear that I will shortly be mourning the passing of Rudy Giuliani’s presidential campaign, a most unfortunate demise that is all the more regrettable insofar as it was avoidable. (I know Iowa was a lost cause, Rudy, but why did you forsake New Hampshire and Michigan? Why did you forsake me, Rudy? Why? Why? Why?) With Fred Thompson gone and Rudy not long for this world–and not so much as a Duncan Hunter to kick around–all I’ve got left is Romney and McCain. A sorry state of affairs, indeed. Insert heavy sigh here. Oh, well. Things could be worse. Bob Dole could be running. (Insert bad Viagra joke here.)
Which brings me to another point: Whichever one of you cats ends up winning the nomination, DO NOT pick Mike Huckabee as your running mate, no offense to him. And by “whichever one of you” I really mean you, John McCain, because I think the Mittster is too smart for that numbskull idea. (I’ve taken to calling him Mittster in an attempt to inject some humanity into him. Is it working? Well, at least I’m doing something.) No offense to Gov. Huckabee, who seems like a nice enough guy, and he’s folksy and plays the guitar and whatnot, but like the original cast of Saturday Night Live, he is not ready for prime time. Some of you in this race–who shall remain nameless–are 72 years old, and that whole one-heartbeat-away issue should figure heavily into this particular decision. Don’t blow it. And by “don’t blow it,” I really mean, “You don’t blow it. You don’t blow it, John McCain.” That’s all I have to say. (Except P.S. Sylvester Stallone would not be a good choice either.)
In other news, Elvis inches ever-so-slowly toward toilet-trainedness. Sugar Daddy reports that on the last couple trips to the Safeway, which has wheelchair-accessible automatic doors on its restrooms, Elvis has joyfully pushed the button to open the door to the men’s room, gone inside and used the potty, washed his hands, and returned triumphantly, proclaiming, “I had privacy.” I asked SD how much he thought it would cost us to put one of those automatic doors in our house, but he insists on sticking to that six-month moratorium on home improvements. Not one to pander to special interests, that SD.
It snowed last night. The kids have the day off school anyway, so it was kind of a waste, that snow. And you know, several weeks ago I made a special point of buying all the kids new gloves because whenever it snows, I can never find their gloves. And so here we were today, snow on the ground outside and kids home from school, wanting to play in said snow, and where were the gloves? Heck if I know. Stupid snowy day.
Reading this thread at FMH on taking sick kids to church has inspired me to tell you about the experience I had a few weeks ago–the Sunday right before Christmas, actually. Sugar Daddy had to be at church early because he was singing in the choir. He took the older two children with him, and I was to follow later with the younger two. That morning Elvis woke up and told SD, “I sick.”
Now, here you need a little bit of background. You might recall that back in September, right after the fire, when we were still staying in hotels, Elvis (and the other children) got some sort of stomach flu. That’s when Elvis picked up two new phrases: “I sick” and “Gonna barf.” The actual sick-and-barfing period lasted just a few days, but it’s fair to say that every single day since then, at least once a day, Elvis has come up to SD or me and said, “I sick. Gonna barf.” Of course, it didn’t take us long to figure out that he wasn’t actually sick, nor was he going to barf; he was just making conversation. So we would just tell him, “No, you’re not sick, don’t barf,” or words to that effect, and life would just go on as before.
So when Elvis said that he was sick on this particular Sunday, none of us thought anything of it. He’s not savvy enough to know how to get out of going to church; if he doesn’t want to go to church, he will just scream, “NOOOOOOOO!!!” Just like the rest of us. Anyway, SD took the older two kids to church with him and I set about getting myself and the little kids ready to go. At some point I noticed that Elvis seemed particularly lethargic. I also noticed that he wasn’t fighting putting his Sunday clothes on. I called SD on his cell phone and told him I thought Elvis might actually be sick. SD said that he needed me to bring something to church and if Elvis still seemed sick, I could take him home. So I finished getting us ready, drove down to church with whatever-SD-needed-me-to-bring-I-can’t-remember, and we slipped into the pew with Princess Zurg and Mister Bubby right before the service began. At least I think it was right before. It might have been right after. It’s sort of a blur.
Well, Elvis seemed to be doing okay, and I felt like I should probably stay for the rest of the service because, after all, it was the Christmas program and the Christmas program is less boring than ordinary church because there’s more singing and less yakking about religious stuff. Also, I knew that if I left immediately, the baby would throw a fit because, dangit, she just got out of the car, and she wasn’t going to go back into the car without a fight, and if I could just make it through the chapel service, I could dump her in the nursery for the second and third hours and not have to fight her at all. Yes, I admit it was this latter motivation that animated me. Or prevented my animation, as the act of staying didn’t involve much acting, just sitting and waiting.
So Elvis was very subdued, but he was eating Goldfish crackers and keeping to himself and not talking about barf, so I thought, “Okay. We’re okay. We can make it through the next forty minutes or so,” and I just sat there listening to the choir and whatnot and being very relaxed and unsuspecting. As the hour wore on, however, I thought how very unusual this subdued-ness was in Elvis, how very uncharacteristic and foreboding it seemed, and I thought, “As soon as the choir sings the last number and SD can take these other kids, I’m taking you home, buster.”
So before the choir sang its last number, a gentleman I did not know or recognize got up to speak–about Christmas, I reckon–I really don’t remember because I was staring so intently at Elvis in all his subdued, lethargic glory and hoping against hope that he was really just tired, because kids sometimes get tired, you know, and he’d been telling me every day for the last four months that he was sick and going to barf and never delivered, and why should today be any different?
This gentleman, whoever he was, seemed to speak for a very long time. I’m sure everything he said was of great value to everyone present, with the possible exception of me and Elvis, who was looking more and more “tired” by the second. Finally, the gentleman at the pulpit began to wrap things up, and just as he was uttering what I believe was his last prepared sentence of his remarks, Princess Zurg let out a blood-curdling scream because Elvis, God bless him, had just relieved himself of stomach contents, and little Goldfish bits were swimming in a vomitous river than ran through our pew.
I’m sure this poor gentleman wondered what on earth he’d said to upset the little girl in the third row, who was now standing on the bench and screaming, “I’VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE! HELP!” Unfortunately, we were on a side pew and the only way out was through the vomit or over the heads of the people in front of us.
It was one of those moments when I knew I had to do something, but I just couldn’t remember what it was. I looked up to the choir seats, where SD was pantomiming a vomiting action, and when I nodded vigorously to confirm that that was indeed what had happened, he came down into the congregation and grabbed the now-sobbing Elvis–who, I forgot to mention, does not like being messy, no, not one bit–and took him to get cleaned up. PZ was still screaming, Mister Bubby was whining, I didn’t have so much as a diaper wipe on me, and I was still holding the baby, who really wanted to get down and walk through the Goldfish bile.
So eventually my brain kicked into crisis mode, I handed the baby over to a friend several rows back, and I went in search of…paper towels. I still couldn’t think clearly, and to tell you the truth, I was laughing too hard. A couple people were concerned at first because they thought I was crying, but that just goes to show how little they know about me.
Can I just say here that the people I go to church with are wicked awesome? Because by the time I returned to the pew with paper towels, these two other ladies had already cleaned everything up with a single hand towel from the kitchen and the wet wipes from their diaper bags. I didn’t even know these women. They were like little barf-cleaning angels.
So I went to check on SD and Elvis, who were just walking out of the men’s room. Correction: SD was walking, Elvis was skipping. You never saw a happier, more bright-eyed-and-rosy-cheeked child. It was like he’d just purged himself of a demon, and now he was ready to take on the world. Needless to say, I took him home anyway, if only for propriety’s sake.
So trust our family to make church exciting for everyone. The holy spirit has been known to affect people in a variety of ways, but I think this may be the first documented case of charismatic puking. At least at our church.
The following week I was in the church library, chatting with some other ladies, and one of them mentioned Elvis throwing up and said she didn’t know if this would make me feel better, but when her husband’s oldest son was just a little boy being toilet-trained, he (the son) had diarrhea one Sunday, and not only had diarrhea at church but had it in the middle of the chapel service in the middle of the middlest row, and it not only got all over the pew and the floor but proceeded to drip all over the people his father had to climb over to get him out of there. (You would think such an event would clear a pew pretty rapidly, but apparently the sermon was really riveting that day, or something.)
It might have been wrong, but that did make me feel better.
I’ve decided that 2008 is going to be the Year of the Potty. Elvis is going to be five in April, and I would like him to be using the toilet before then. Dare I dream? I do. What’s more, I think where Elvis goes, Girlfriend will follow. She’s only two, and that would make her a prodigy in our family–heck, in our family you’re a prodigy if you’re trained before age four–but she idolizes her big brother, and if he uses the potty, what options does she really have? (Don’t answer that.)
The trick is making him think it’s his idea. Historically I have not been good at tricking my children. They’re pretty smart. That’s the challenge of parenting, being smarter than the children. I can’t win on stubborn, so I have to use my wits. Think, Madhousewife. Think think think.
Nothing’s coming.
We own a potty-training video–I Can Go Potty!–which my children have always enjoyed, but nevertheless have not found inspiring. I’ve been thinking of replacing it with a video or book starring a beloved children’s show character–if I could only find one starring a character that my children are familiar with. People rave about Bear in the Big Blue House’s (or is it Big Blue Bear in the House?) potty video, but my kids wouldn’t know that bear from Adam. Does it make a difference? Is Bear in the Big Blue House charismatic enough that my children could fall in love with him (and by extension, the toilet) at first sight? Various Sesame Street characters have starred in potty-training books. My kids know some of the Sesame Street characters, but I wouldn’t bet on them finding Ernie or Elmo compelling in that particular role.
Actually, the characters that the youngest two are most endeared to are Barney and Thomas the Tank Engine. I heard that Barney had a potty video, but I haven’t been able to locate it on the interwebs. (I have found YouTube videos of “Barney taking a dump.” I don’t know if that would be as effective or not…but there are still some places I’m not ready to go.) I’m thinking that Thomas the Tank Engine and his engine friends do not use the potty. You know, what with them being trains and all. Sir Topham Hatt is theoretically capable of using the potty, but such behavior seems somewhat out of character for him. And there are no Thomas the Tank Engine potty videos, so I need to just get off this track. Ha ha, get it? Track? Never mind.
There is a Thomas the Tank Engine potty seat on Amazon.com, but it’s the First Years brand, and I’ve owned two First Years potty seats and really don’t care for them. (I think we lost both in the fire.) And I’d rather not pay $23.99 for something I don’t care for, especially since it’s just a Thomas sticker on the back of a regular First Years potty chair. If it were a potty shaped like a train, that would be different. Which makes me wonder, why hasn’t anyone made a potty shaped like a train? They could pee in the boiler and poop in the tender. It is really just wrong for me to talk about this. Do you know that in the house I grew up in, nobody even used words like “pee” and “poop”? I have no recollection of how we referred to those activities. We all learned to use the toilet, so we must have talked about it at some point, but my mother had a strong gag reflex, and it just wasn’t kosher to discuss bodily functions in many venues. Certainly not at the dinner table, which is where my husband and children like to discuss bodily functions. My children are very, very fond of talking about toilets and toilet activities. They think it’s hysterical. I keep telling them they should be doers of the word and not hearers only, but they don’t like when I push my religion on them.
So I was looking online for other, non-First Years potty chairs, and it’s a somewhat daunting task. There are approximately 400 to choose from–including this “fancy potty chair” by Little Colorado. It’s made of resilient Baltic Birch and has armrests and a built-in bookrack and toilet paper holder. It can be mine for $70.99, plus $9.99 shipping and handling. I think my first couch cost less than that.
There’s also a musical potty chair (Ababy, $64.95), a hand-painted “western” potty chair (Ababy, $68.95), and a toddler urinal (Visionaire, $39.19). The urinal is a nice concept, but I have to tell you, it does not look stable to me. I value stability in something that is supposed to collect my child’s urine. That’s all I’m saying. Evenflo makes this so-called “magic potty” ($41.88). I’m not sure how to describe it. It looks like it’s supposed to be some space-themed…”hover”-potty. I dunno. That doesn’t look so stable, either. And when someone uses the word “magic” and “potty” in the same breath, I expect to be paying more than $41.88, or probably I am getting ripped off.
On the more economical side of things, there’s the PRIMO Bunny potty ($9.99). It’s a bright yellow bunny that looks kind of like a riding toy (handlebars yes, wheels no), and the bunny is sticking out his bright red tongue. Huh. I don’t get it. If I wanted to be (extra-)narcissistic in a really weird way, I could go with the “Buddy Giraffe” toilet decoration (Jeckida Inc., $13.99), but just looking at it makes me a little upset.
Then there’s the Teamson “lighthouse” potty ($59.95). What, for my great-aunt who collects them? I wasn’t aware that lighthouses were a great motivator for the under-three set.
Which brings up another point. Technically, Elvis’s nearly-five-year-old bum is big enough to use the actual potty–and really too big to use most potty chairs, which seem to be designed for infants under twelve months. Go figure. (Did the potty-chair industry not get the memo on childhood obesity? They really need to step it up!) But big kids can be afraid of the big potty, too. So where’s my school-age Thomas the Tank Engine potty chair shaped like a train? Must I really do everything myself?
In other news, Elvis has lately grown very fond of fire hydrants. We have a lot of fire hydrants in our city. I know, because every time we pass one, he says, “Hydrant! It’s yellow!” There’s a potty-chair idea here that I’m not fully comfortable exploring at this time, but perhaps at a later date. Elvis has also taken to dressing up in his father’s clothes–which is better than him dressing in my clothes, I guess. If only he would strive to emulate his father in other areas. Toilet use, for example. His father loves using the toilet. Why did none of those genes pass along? I’m just wondering.
On that note, I think I will go make lunch.
Today was garbage day. A few hours ago the garbage truck came and emptied our garbage can. It is now 3 p.m. The garbage can is full again. The garbage truck, on the other hand, does not come back until next Wednesday. This is a serious problem.
How is it that six people can make so much garbage? Even with two of us in diapers (I’m not naming names), there really is no excuse for this volume of waste. I am deeply disturbed by this trend. I should also mention that I am highly annoyed by the fact that we seem to be the only household on the block that not only requires the extra-large trash can but which also regularly overfills it. You people with your tiny trash cans, what must your lives be like? Even your recycling bins, which only get picked up fortnightly, are neatly under full capacity. Ours was overflowing within five days. I can’t imagine producing that little garbage in seven days. How is it accomplished?
We pay $62 a month for this giant trash can. The waste disposal company does not, to my knowledge, offer dumpsters for single-family residences. More’s the pity. But we’re already bringing our neighborhood’s property values way down just by living here.
I haven’t had a shower since Tuesday. And now the painters are here to finish up my bathroom, and Thursday’s not looking good for a shower either.
Good thing my social life is already non-existent.
Speaking of non-existent, I’ve decided that Mitt Romney does have a Mormon problem. It’s just not the Mormon problem he thinks he has. Yeah, there are people out there who wouldn’t vote for a Mormon if he were Barack Obama himself, but I still think those numbers are exaggerated. No, Mitt Romney’s Mormon problem is about him. People make fun of his hair and say he looks like a used-car salesman, which is funny because, as someone on one of the Mormon blogs said recently, he really looks just like most of the stake presidents* I’ve had over the years (though handsomer than the average). As far as I know, LDS stake presidents are not disproportionately used-car salesmen. They do tend to share a couple common denominators, though, which are pertinent to the discussion because Mitt Romney was a stake president himself for nine years. (*A stake president in the LDS church is roughly equivalent to a Catholic bishop, as I understand it.)
I was not surprised to learn that Mitt Romney was a stake president. As I said, he looks like a stake president. And he’s the type of man who gets asked to be a stake president, i.e. he’s competent and business-like and looks most comfortable in a suit and tie. Now, I’m not saying that all stake presidents are the same. I’m saying they all look the same. Mitt Romney was also a bishop (roughly equivalent to a parish priest), for two or three years, and that impressed me somewhat more. Bishops work very closely with the members of their ward (parish) on a daily basis, spending upwards of thirty hours a week (on top of their day job) ministering to the flock, if you’ll pardon the pastoral metaphor. Stake presidents, on the other hand, are executives. They’re big-picture guys. They’re the dudes at HQ who give the orders. Theirs is an important job, but it’s far more remote from the people they serve.
Stake president is a job that seems well-suited to Mitt Romney’s particular talents. I have difficulty picturing him as a bishop (though stake presidents are often former bishops, just not always). Which doesn’t mean I think he would have made a lousy bishop, just that it’s easier for me to see him in a remote leadership role, not down in the trenches with the rest of us. I’m not trying to paint stake presidents as detached, because they’re certainly emotionally invested in their jobs. But it’s like this: I’ve always been very fond of all my bishops. I often have trouble remembering who my stake president is. (Although it’s easy to remember who my current stake president is, as he’s a prominent OB/GYN in Portland, and I think he’s delivered half the Mormon babies on the west side. Not mine, of course. Ew.)
Which brings me back to Mitt Romney. It’s really hard for me to tell who Mitt Romney is. Not because he changes his positions on certain things. That actually doesn’t bother me. I care what people do now and what they plan to do in the future, more than I care about what they did x number of years ago. No, it’s hard to tell who Mitt Romney is because he seems always to be wearing his “church face.” It’s a common mindset among Mormons that one is always being scrutinized, and that one’s actions inevitably reflect on the church itself. That is a suffocating responsibility. The natural response is to hide. Is Mitt Romney hiding something? I think he is–though it’s hard to say whether I suspect he’s hiding or I just hope he’s hiding. Because if he isn’t holding back, if this is all there really is–I don’t know. I just don’t know.
I think that’s why I’ve been so put off, watching him go negative in the campaign, because he’s such a bland personality otherwise. John McCain is a mean SOB, and everyone knows he’s a mean SOB, but he’s a compelling candidate (not the “best” candidate, not the one I’m supporting) because he just puts it all out there. He’s obviously passionate and sincerely determined about certain things. He’ll follow Osama bin Laden “to the gates of hell.” I mean, golly, that is disconcerting, but you know he means it. I say if you’re going to be an SOB, be an SOB. You know what I’m saying? Let your freak flag fly.
On the other hand, a few right-wing Romney-loving pundits, noting that the other Republican candidates seem to genuinely dislike Romney, have speculated that those other guys are just jealous. I mean, let’s face it: the dude’s a millionaire; he has a wonderful family; he’s been wildly successful in his life; I think he made People magazine’s list of most beautiful people in 2002; he’s got a kid named “Tagg”–what’s not to hate?
Am I jealous of Mitt Romney? I confess I tend to gravitate toward people who are deeply flawed. People like Rudy Giuliani, they have that rock star quality that I find so irresistible. Mitt Romney is a star of a different genre. He reminds me of those guys in the romantic comedies–the good-looking, successful guys who expect to get the girl, but the girl ends up going for the lovable loser instead, because they have such good chemistry. It’s interesting that I would be that girl, because I’m not usually that romantic. I’m frequently yelling at the screen, “What are you doing? That guy doesn’t have a job! He can’t even bother to shave, for Pete’s sake!” But here I am, faced with the obvious choice of the competent and upstanding Mitt Romney, and who am I going for? The cross-dressing adulterer? Are you yelling at the screen yet?
I can bring this post full-circle by quoting Mike Huckabee’s recent exchange with Jay Leno on the Tonight Show, which wins an award for creepiest joke by a politician this year:
Leno: So you were going to do an ad.
Huckabee: Right. So we put together an ad and taped the tape, got it all ready. We were going to release it at a press conference, and Monday I just didn’t feel right. We had gotten where we are by being positive and talking about what this country needs to be rather than what’s wrong with the other guys, and I just said –
Leno: As you were making it did you feel like –
Huckabee: I needed to go take a shower or something like that or give Romney a shower maybe. I don’t know.
On the one hand, ew. On the other, I’m jealous.
And now it’s time to clutter up the blog with a YouTube video:
Scratch that last post–we’re back to beating Hillary again. Yay! Just kidding. The Democrat I really want to beat is John Edwards. With a sledgehammer. Kidding again! Some pundit posited today that John Edwards is gunning for the vice-presidential slot again. Note to Hillary/Obama: DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.
The other person I’d like to go away now is Mitt Romney, because that scintilla of enthusiasm I was feeling for him a few weeks ago? Evaporated. I know politics is a dirty business, but wow. Expletive deleted, he is annoying me. Brother, take some charm lessons from Mike Huckabee. Scratch that. Take some charm lessons from John McCain. Or Hillary, for that matter. I used to think, all liabilities aside, Mitt could take Hillary in a national race, but seeing the way he goes after his fellow Republicans, I shudder to think of what he’d do to Hillary. Even Dick Morris would have to feel sorry for her.
And let’s see, where did Duncan Hunter place in New Hampshire? Behind McCain, Romney, Huckabee, Giuliani, and Paul. Yet he is still standing, at least until his next press conference. God bless him.
Lately I’ve only been following the primary election through the corner of my eye because it’s too painful to look directly into. Sometimes I wish someone would wake me up after the conventions.
Duncan Hunter seems to be just begging for someone to pay attention to him, so I thought I would finally see what he was all about. I visited his web site. I noticed right away he’s one of those people who puts abortion at the top of his “Issues” page. Please don’t misunderstand me. I care about the abortion issue as much as the next person, but I don’t like to see it taking center stage in a presidential election, when there is only so much a president can do in terms of the abortion issue. Yes, a president appoints judges, and that’s pertinent to the abortion issue. Judges are pertinent to a lot of issues. So let’s talk about appointing judges, not (necessarily) about abortion. That would be so refreshing.
But Duncan Hunter is by no means the only Republican candidate guilty of giving abortion the prime real estate on his Issues page. So I gave him that freebie. I tried to get a sense of the man as a whole. And I would hate all that research to be for naught, hence I give you the following presentation:
Let’s All Get To Know Duncan Hunter! (He’s running for President of the United States, too!)
Day job: U.S. Congressman from California since 1980. Many years on House Armed Services Committee, chairman of HASC since 2002.
Other pertinent career info: Vietnam veteran. Served in 173rd Airborne and 75th Army Rangers. Worked in farming and construction while attending law school. Opened store-front law office, offering legal services to many in Hispanic community before running for Congress.
Personal: Married. Two sons, one of whom served two tours of duty in Iraq as a U.S. Marine.
Where Duncan Hunter stands on the Issues!
Abortion and other “values” issues (e.g. same-sex marriage, parental rights aka homeschooling, etc.): Impeccably conservative in the non-federalist sense of the word.
Second Amendment: He’s for it, and not because he hunts–though he does hunt, of course. Wouldn’t want you to think he was one of those pansy New Yorkers afraid to handle a gun. Am I mocking Duncan Hunter? No. Yes, a little. Only because I hate hearing about how much politicians love to hunt, even if it’s only in a desultory fashion. In this Duncan Hunter is no more offensive than John Kerry. Except he gets bonus points for supporting the second amendment and not holding press conferences with his kill. You all know this. I’ll move on.
Taxes: This is where he shines. Anyone who says, “I do not support efforts to identify segments of our society that are more deserving of a tax cut over another and I believe political stereotyping in this area hinders the goal of providing efficient tax relief,” is my kind of right-wing demagogue.
Balanced Budget: He supports it, as well as limiting growth in non-defense areas. We all know what that means. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
Property Rights: He’s for them. Sweet.
Obscenity: Against. (Duh!)
Gambling: Against. You know, me too, but I can’t remember the last time I asked myself whether a candidate supported gambling or not. I think it was “never.”
NEA: Disses the NEA but doesn’t say the magic words, which are “What the *#$(# are we doing spending tax dollars on the #$&*# (non-defense) NEA?” Probably because he’s against the whole obscenity thing. Still.
Health Care Reform: This is a very long section. Essentially, he favors allowing people to buy insurance across state lines, public disclosure of fee schedules (for consumer empowerment), and innovation of treatment protocols (to save money). Well, that’s reasonable. No, I’m not being snarky.
Middle East: Israel good, Islamic dictatorships bad.
Security and Prosperity Partnership: Not cool.
Illegal Immigration: No amnesty. Border fence. No automatic citzenship bestowed on children born of illegal immigrants on U.S. soil. I have just one question: If being born here isn’t good enough, what should the criteria for citizenship be? I anxiously await a response.
{I’m going to interrupt this Get-To-Know-Duncan-Hunter presentation to say that I am extremely weary of the illegal immigration issue. That’s all. Back to the program.]
United Nations: Blah blah blah blah blah.
Free Trade: Put same charges on foreign goods that they put on ours. Not sure what that’s supposed to accomplish, but he’s no fan of China, that’s for sure.
So that’s Duncan Hunter. I understand his appeal. I just don’t understand why he’s still running for president, since so few people like him well enough to vote for him. It looks a little desperate. Not very presidential.
Speaking of presidential, I’ve decided that if I had to vote for a candidate based strictly on personal dignity, I would have to choose Fred Thompson. But I don’t think I will end up voting for Fred Thompson. It’s kind of a non-issue, because by the time the Oregon primary rolls around, no one will be left standing.
It looks more and more like Barack Obama will be the Democratic nominee, which is not good news for Republicans. I think we all know why. Republicans used to put a lot of emphasis on who could beat Hillary in November. Answer: Who couldn’t? (Besides Ron Paul, of course.) I mean, fair or unfair, Hillary really just isn’t likeable. I know some of you like her, and I’m not judging you for liking her. I myself don’t mind her. But lots of people really, really don’t like her. And when you consider that a sizeable portion of the electorate refuses to decide who they’re going to vote for until the very last possible minute because they have no core political philosophy–well, would you buy Hillary Clinton on an impulse? Would you? Okay, maybe you would. But not if you didn’t like her.
But Hillary is passe now. Now it’s all about who can beat Barack Obama. So we have to put on our thinking caps because Obama actually has charisma, unlike some people I could mention. (I’m talking about our guys, of course. Didn’t I just say Hillary was passe?) Regardless of who the Republicans put up, though, I think the election’s all going to hinge on us getting out the “anti-hope” vote. Here’s hoping. Doh!
I’ve always been a little miffed that Iowa and New Hampshire get all the attention. What’s so awesome about Iowa and New Hampshire? Why should we care what those cats think any more than we care about what, say, Wyoming thinks? Wyoming had a (Republican) caucus, too, you know. Oh, yeah. Mitt Romney won it–as if it mattered.
It’s not often that I give Anna Quindlen an amen, but a few weeks ago in Newsweek she was lamenting how old-fashioned this primary system was, and I think in this same column she proposed something I found terribly reasonable. I hesitate to say for sure it was her because, you know, Anna Quindlen, but the proposal, be it hers or someone else’s, was that we hold a series of nationwide primaries. The top finishers from the first go on to the second, the top finishers of the second go on to the third, etc. I guess we wouldn’t need to hold more than three. It would certainly change the way people campaigned. No, candidates wouldn’t be able to go in and get all personal and shake people’s hands, but heck, I’ve lived on the west coast my whole life and no politician’s ever shaken my damn hand, so ask me if I care. And the bonus would be that we could all stop talking about ethanol as an alternative fuel source.
This just occurred to me: Who at the Luvs diaper company (which is Pampers, which is Proctor & Gamble) thought it was a good idea to put perfumes in their baby diapers? Not only is it an unpleasant scent to begin with, but once you add human waste to the equation, it becomes an ungodly odor.
So it is with our primary system. I don’t know what that means, but I knew there was a political metaphor in there somewhere, and I thought I’d let you all fill in the poetic gaps. (It’s still a free blog. I can’t afford to waste my skills.)
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