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I know some people are mocking the decision by the Norwegian Nobel Committee, saying that it’s premature, that Pres. Obama is still overseeing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and hasn’t yet achieved anything concrete so far as peace in the Middle East or nuclear disarmament is concerned. But you know what I say?
The Nobel Peace Prize has been a joke ever since they gave one to Yassir Arafat in 1994. I have no argument with the proposition that Pres. Obama deserves the Nobel Peace Prize at least as much, if not more, than Yassir Arafat, so as far as I’m concerned, Pres. Obama should be congratulated. The Nobel Committee should also be congratulated on not giving the award to a terrorist. Every year they don’t do that is another contribution to the cause of world peace.
Maybe it’s true that Pres. Obama hasn’t “done” much in terms of actual “achievement” on the peace front, but since when do we care what Pres. Obama has done? We didn’t elect him leader of the free world on the basis of anything he’d done, so why all the angst over giving him an award that was rendered meaningless years ago?
Anyway, we don’t honor Pres. Obama for what he does. We honor him for what he is. And what he is…is a winner. So congratulations, Mr. President. Have fun in Oslo.
Personally, I’m looking forward to his Tony-award-winning musical.
Madhousewife was recently awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for next week’s edition of Mad’s Book Club. Sure, it isn’t technically “written” yet, but the Norwegian Nobel Committee considers the honor a “vote of confidence” that Ms. Housewife will accomplish her twin goals of finishing her book reviews by Monday and the resulting blog not sucking.
It’s a legitimate question. Short answer: Because I agreed with him enough of the time that I was willing to put up with a lot of crap I didn’t like. “Put up with” in this case = eye-rolling and deep-breathing exercises, as opposed to face-punching.
It’s like what happened this morning when I came downstairs and found the remnants of my husband’s midnight snacking on the floor by the family room couch. I really don’t mind so much that my husband eats on the family room couch. I’m not a couch nazi. I just wish he’d put the stuff away afterward. Today actually wasn’t so bad. Not like when he eats Runts and Lemonheads in the middle of the night and leaves the still-half-full bag out where Elvis can find it in the morning and finish it off before breakfast. But I digress. I would really prefer that my husband didn’t do that stuff, but I’m not going to punch him in the face over it because we’ve never actually had a deal that he wouldn’t eat on the couch and leave the dirty dishes and leftover food on the floor, and at least he’s not drinking heavily in the night and leaving the empties and the still-half-full beer cans and vodka bottles out where Elvis can find them and finish them off before breakfast. That wouldn’t do at all–not only because it’s irresponsible but because when you marry a Mormon guy, you have the right to expect that he won’t drink at all, let alone heavily, and on the sofa to boot.
That’s George W. Bush, eating bagels and prosciutto on the couch at midnight, maybe downing a bottle of Perrier and not cleaning up after himself. Annoying, but I married him. And he’s very good with the children.
Barack Obama, on the other hand, came knocking at my door last November, promising not only that he would eat full meals on my family room sofa, but that he would also drink heavily and relieve himself on my kitchen table. Also, he intended to buy a dog. I was not down with that. Some women are, and that’s fine–totally not my business–but it wasn’t for me.
It’s not a perfect analogy. But I enjoyed writing it.
The thing is, George W. Bush was never a small-government conservative. He talked about smaller government, occasionally, but from the beginning he sold himself as a “compassionate conservative,” which being translated means “big-but-not-too-big government conservative.” From my perspective Bush’s fatal flaw was that he thought he could stave off accusations of cold-hearted evil if he spent enough money on social programs to prove that he wasn’t one of those meanie-head Republicans who want Grandma to eat cat food and lose her foot to diabetes because she has no health insurance. What he didn’t seem to get was that when it comes to spending money on social programs, there’s no such thing as “enough.” Never. This is doubly true if you’re cutting taxes while simultaneously spending. That’s just irresponsible, not only because it makes for a pretty deficit but because that money that’s being kept by people who earned it really ought to be going to entitlement programs instead. There’s just no excuse for that kind of behavior–unless you’re married to an enabler like me, who says, “Well, at least he’s not relieving himself on the kitchen table.”
I’ve been accused of having low standards. I don’t deny it.
To go back to imperfect analogies, let the election of Barack Obama be likened unto a banquet, where 53 percent of those in attendance are meat-eaters and the other 47 percent are vegetarians. Some vegetarians are stricter than others. Ron Paul, for example, is a vegan who only eats raw food. John McCain eats eggs and cheese (lots of cheese). Orrin Hatch stays away from red meat but likes to indulge himself in some wild salmon every so often–he especially likes the way Ted Kennedy prepares it, with lemon-butter and basil, very tasty (if not technically vegetarian). Arlen Specter, Olympia Snowe and Susan Collins eat chicken, pork and beef, but they still sit with the vegetarians because…well, no one knows why, but they do.
Anyway, Barack Obama is taking everyone to dinner–not just members of Congress, but all the American people. The vegetarians really don’t want to be there because it’s a steakhouse–not a surprising choice of venue, as Barack Obama has oft declared his love of steak–but all the other restaurants have closed and the vegetarians have no choice, so there they sit, all sullen and contrary. A few talk about going on a hunger strike, but they’re just making noise (except for Ron Paul and his friends, who insist they can survive on the vitamins and minerals in the table cloth–mostly we ignore them).
Pres. Obama has taken the liberty of ordering for everyone, and surprise! we’re all having steak. Not just any steak, but filet mignon, and not just a little filet mignon, but 72-ounce filet mignons. You didn’t even know they made filet mignons that big, but they do and there they are. A small but not insignificant portion of the meat-eaters say, “Woah, that’s quite a bit of meat, isn’t it? I really didn’t want this much meat. Actually, I’m not all that fond of beef in the first place. Don’t they serve chicken here? I thought Pres. Obama was going to order us all a nice roasted chicken breast. I like chicken. Why didn’t you order chicken, Mr. President? I could have sworn you said during the campaign that you didn’t eat red meat. What gives?”
At this point one of the vegetarians stands up and screams, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! HE NEVER SAID ANY SUCH THING! HE’S A STEAK EATER, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A STEAK EATER AND HE PROMISED TO ORDER US ALL STEAK JUST AS SOON AS HE GOT ELECTED, AND HERE HE IS DOING IT, JUST LIKE HE SAID HE WOULD, AND YOU’RE COMPLAINING! WORSE THAN COMPLAINING, YOU’RE SURPRISED! IT’S YOUR FAULT THAT ALL THESE COWS HAD TO DIE, YOU PATHETIC CHICKEN-LOVERS! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!!!”
After the hysterical vegetarian is escorted from the building and order is restored, Pres. Obama says, “Look, I inherited these dead cows from George W. Bush. So naturally I decided to slaughter a trillion more cows so that we could at least get a decent meal in this country, for once. Not because I believe animals should be killed for food–I don’t!”
At this point the vegetarian who was previously escorted from the building breaks back into the building to scream, “WHAT THE HELL IS HE TALKING ABOUT? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! SOMEONE EXPLAIN IT TO ME, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY–GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! DON’T TASE ME, BRO!”
(And let’s just say there are no further interruptions from that vegetarian, and get on with our silly analogy.)
“So,” Pres. Obama continues, “as you can see, the 72-ounce filet mignons were really the only way to go. I mean, if we’re going to do this thing, let’s do it right.”
At this point one of the meat-eaters says, “Well, not that I don’t appreciate this very large filet mignon, Mr. President–it’s awesome–but I think what is really needed is a 120-ounce filet mignon.”
VEGETARIAN #1: That’s ridiculous! Seventy-two ounces of filet mignon is bad enough. I can already feel my arteries clogging, and I’m not even planning to eat this awful carcass. Just having it here on my plate is making me ill.
MEAT-EATER #1: Yeah, whatever. We didn’t hear you complaining when George Bush was frying up chitlins for breakfast.
RON PAUL (inaudible, as no one’s listening to him): I complained! Chitlins are unconstitutional!
JOHN MCCAIN: I never ate those chitlins. Not a single chitlin, not once in my 27 years in the Senate.
ORRIN HATCH: Look, none of us approves of chitlins, but sometimes you have to fry up some chitlins if you’re going to make a hash.
VEGETARIAN #2: What does that even mean?
OLYMPIA SNOWE: Those vegetarians who opposed the chitlins were just being unrealistic.
VEGETARIANS #3-16: Shut up!
BARACK OBAMA (tapping his glass with a spoon): Now, now, everyone just calm down. Obviously the vegetarians are upset because they don’t enjoy food and don’t think anyone else should either. They would have us believe that this dinner isn’t necessary.
VEGETARIAN #17: That’s not what we’re saying at all.
RON PAUL: It’s what I’m saying!
BARACK OBAMA (ignoring everyone): Some would have us believe that it’s impossible to eat meat while simultaneously embracing vegetarianism. I reject that false choice.
RANDOM VEGETARIANS (murmuring): What the hell…?
MEAT-EATER #2: Hear, hear! It’s about time we had someone in office who understands the complexity of these issues.
MEAT-EATER #3: Speaking of complexity, would it be possible to get my steak wrapped in bacon?
BARACK OBAMA: Just be patient, we’ll get to the bacon.
VEGETARIAN #18: And now he’s promising bacon!
BARACK OBAMA: Now hold on, I did no such thing. Garcon! More bacon, please!
VEGETARIAN #19: He did it, he just ordered bacon.
MEAT-EATERS #4-27: He did not, you fascist!
BARACK OBAMA: So as I was saying, it is absolutely crucial that we start eating this meal as soon as possible, so that we can digest it and get our gastro-intestinal systems working properly again.
VEGETARIAN #20: We’re never going to be able to digest this meal! Our grandchildren will have to digest it for us!
BARACK OBAMA: Don’t believe everything Rush Limbaugh says. If you start eating now, it will be fully digested by dessert. I hope you’re all saving room for dessert.
RANDOM MURMURINGS FROM VEGETARIANS AND MEAT-EATERS ALIKE: Did he say “saving”?!?
RON PAUL: Dessert is unconstitutional!
VEGETARIAN #21: Look, I get it, you’ve already slaughtered the cows. The steak is on the table. But could we at least have a vegetable to go with it?
BARACK OBAMA: You have vegetables. Every steak comes with a baked potato.
VEGETARIAN #22: Well, technically, potato is a starch–
BARACK OBAMA: Perhaps you’d prefer corn on the cob. Garcon!
VEGETARIAN #22: Well, actually–
VEGETARIAN #23: Are we still talking about complexity? Because I could go for a complex carbohydrate about now. Maybe some whole-wheat dinner rolls…
MEAT-EATERS (in unison): Food snob!
VEGETARIAN #24: Seriously, what happened to the arugula?
You know, I just realized that I could go on like this forever, and the reason is that I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. So I’m going to eat some cereal. After that, I will probably not be in the mood to discuss politics or food.
Facebook is getting ridiculous. This is the latest notification they sent me:
Madhousewife, Barack Obama confirmed you as a cousin on We’re Related see how you are related: ’bout 2 turn o’ yer hourglass ago
You know, it’s bad enough when they use sexual innuendo to sell me on Word Twist. But this just seems desperate.
Speaking of Barack Obama, I feel that I’ve made great strides in dealing with the regime change. For a while I was sad. Then I was perpetually annoyed. Then I was alternately sad and annoyed and hopeless and in denial. It’s not that I disliked the President, but every so often–not often, but every so often–he’d say something that made me want to punch him in the face. That’s a very disconcerting feeling to have about the leader of the free world, particularly one as charismatic and charming as this one. I wanted to like him, so much, and it wasn’t even really that he was making me angry, per se–just very frustrated and confused, and sometimes when I’m frustrated and confused, I feel like punching someone in the face. I can control the impulse, but it takes so much out of me, I’m exhausted.
Now, it’s true that just about everything Pres. Obama says or does is something I disagree with because I don’t share his politics. I don’t make it personal, that’s just to be expected. So we have different points of view; I can totally live with that. No, what drives me crazy is when he says stuff that is just so…ridiculous. I mean, tell me that you’re going to save the economy by raising taxes on the rich and investing in education, blah blah–that’s pretty standard Democratic thinking, it doesn’t disturb me–but occasionally he’ll make a statement that is so bizarre that I don’t even understand his motivations. It’s just weird, you know?
When he says he doesn’t believe in bigger government or that he plans to cut the deficit in half over the next four years, it just makes me want to grab someone by the lapels–not the President himself, because that would be disrespectful, but, you know, someone–and shake them and ask, “Why is he telling me this crap??? How can I possibly be expected to believe that unless I lose the ability to tell ‘plus’ from ‘minus’ or up from down? We’re talking about a trillion and a half dollars, and he just waves his hand and tells me these aren’t the droids I’m looking for! What the hell?!?”
And that’s when it hit me: Jedi mind trick. I can work with that. Now whenever the President says something cuckoo, instead of my fist getting all itchy because I don’t understand why he’d be talking at me like I’ve had a frontal lobotomy, I’ll just say, “You know, I’m a Republican. Mind tricks don’t work on me, only money!” (I can even do it with an outlandish Toydarian accent: “Mind tricks-a don’t work on-a me–only-a muhnnney!”) Now instead of getting annoyed, I feel empowered.
This is the point where you geeks say, “How is it empowering to use a quote from Episode I? That movie blows!” To which I respond, “Yeah, a lot of stuff blows. Kinda like reality, dude, which makes it a propos, doesn’t it?” In your face, geeks.
: Deep breath :
In your face, indeed. In my face. In all our faces.
And yes, I realize that it’s April Fool’s Day, but I’m totally not kidding. I feel a lot better this morning.
Mister Bubby: Mama, did you know that boogers and snot are two different things?
Giraffemom: Oh?
MB: Yeah. Snot is wet. And it’s viscous.
GM: Viscous.
MB: Yeah, viscous. And it’s a liquid. Boogers are hard, and it’s a solid.
GM: Hm.
MB: Boogers are something you only have to get out, like, everyday. You have to get snot out, like, every second, when you have the sniffles.
GM: I see.
MB: Actually, it’s fun to get snot out. It’s basically just blowing your nose.
GM: Yes. That’s pretty much how it works.
MB: You have to blow out a lot of snot for it to be a talent.
GM: A talent?
MB: Yeah.
I didn’t want to know, and yet I do now.
.
And now it’s time for the Guantanamo hope and change poll!
Thanks to the Obama administration, prisoners at Guantanamo Bay will no longer be called “enemy combatants.” Well, I should hope not. That’s what the Bush administration termed them. So 2003! From the Los Angeles Times:
Reporting from Washington — There will no longer will be “enemy combatants” at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, the Obama administration said Friday. Moreover, the new president no longer claims that his title as commander in chief allows him to order people deemed to be dangerous captured and held without trial.
Having abandoned a favored Bush administration term in the war on terrorism, however, the new administration has claimed roughly the same power to hold Guantanamo’s detainees indefinitely — even those who never held a gun or went near a battlefield.
The Justice Department emphasized the terminology change in a news release.
But lawyers who have been fighting the government’s detention policies countered that nothing had changed. The Center for Constitutional Rights said the new administration “offers essentially the same definition of ‘enemy combatant’ without using the term.”
I for one have never understood what the big deal was about Guantanamo–but then, I never had a problem with the term “enemy combatants,” either. I’m kind of Neanderthal that way. But that’s neither here nor there. When Pres. Obama first talked about closing Guantanamo–you know, during the campaign–I worried a little about what he intended to do with the prisoners currently detained there. But given his actions since taking office, it appears that he doesn’t really intend to do anything with them, so that’s cool. (I know Guantanamo is supposed to close in a year, but the President also said he doesn’t believe in bigger government, so obviously he’s a cat who thinks we can take a joke. I wouldn’t hold my breath for this one.)
So yeah, I’m not here to criticize the President because that would be pointless and lame. Haven’t we had enough of pointless and lame this year? I was just curious what they’re going to call the Guantanamo prisoners now that they’re no longer “enemy combatants.” “Enemy combatants” is kind of a cumbersome phrase, when you think about it. Not a picnic to type either, now that I mention it, so perhaps a change is in order. I suppose they could just call them “prisoners,” but that would be boring. I think they need a new name. How about “Eunice”?
Well, I suppose they can’t all be “Eunice”…or can they? Let’s get away from all this downer political stuff and exercise our collective creative muscle. Put your suggestions for the Guantanamo prisoners’ new name in the comment field below. Then later I will put it to a vote–all democratic-like. (Remember democracy? It got us into this mess, and it’ll get us out, by gum!)
Dear Person Who Pulled in Front of a Long Line of Cars To Get into the Elementary School Parking Lot,
I realize you’re in a hurry, and that long line is a real bummer, but that is no excuse for driving in through the out door, out door. There is a lane for driving IN the parking lot–that would be the lane that the rest of us driving IN were IN. Then there’s a lane for driving OUT of the parking lot–that would be the lane that cars driving OUT drive OUT of. They can’t drive OUT if you’re driving IN in the same place. You dig? In addition to being rude, it’s just not safe.
And no, this isn’t sour grapes because you took the parking space that could have been mine if you’d been following the rules. No, Jethro, this is about the children. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Madhousewife
Dear Girlfriend,
You know you’re supposed to wear your socks when you play on the indoor playground. It’s the rule. Not my lame-o killjoy rule, but the rule of that fine establishment that provides the inflatable bouncy toys. If you do take off your socks, though, you should stay in the bouncy toy structure, where I can’t see you and force you to put them back on.
Oh, and I saw you try to hide the socks behind the inflatable bouncy thing. A bold move, to be sure. Just not quite bold enough. Better luck next time, girl.
Love,
Mommy
Dear President Obama,
Yeah, I figured as long as I’m writing letters, why not drop you a line as well? Look, I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with your ability to say stuff that is nakedly false but say it in such a way that even the most hard-nosed conservatives hesitate to call it “lying.”
I remember back when Bill Clinton was President–remember how they used to call him “Slick Willie”? good times–he would say something, and it would seem to consist of verifiable facts, but knowing it was coming from him, one could only think it had to be covering up something nefarious. You, sir, are a completely different kind of talent. You say stuff that everyone–everyone–knows isn’t true, and yet you say it so calmly and sincerely that even cynical folks like me find themselves searching desperately for the grain of correct information they are convinced is hiding in that big, fat, obvious not-truthness. How do you do it? Don’t answer that, you’ll only make more work for me.
Your obedient,
M. Housewife
P.S. Your hair looks fine.
Dear First Lady Obama,
Is that the appropriate title? I feel funny calling you Michelle. Anyway, just wanted to tell you, pay no heed to the haters: you ROCK those sleeveless outfits. You’ve got great arms–no need to hide them under a bushel and whatnot. Those critics are just jealous. They probably have puny, flabby arms like mine. Next time someone gives you grief about your clothes, you just look them in the eye and say, “Don’t you have more important things to worry about, like the economy going down the toilet?” Deflect, deflect, deflect!
Just one Mormon lady living vicariously through your bare arms,
Madhousewife
This controversy is stale, so it almost feels safe to write about it. I’m talking about the New York Post chimp cartoon “some linked to Obama.” For those of you who, like me, don’t read enough newspapers and only find out about current events by accident, and therefore may not know about the cartoon or the controversy, suffice it to say that the New York Post published a cartoon by Sean Delonas that depicted a chimp shot dead by police officers–a reference to the recent news story about the chimpanzee who was shot by police after mauling and disfiguring a Connecticut woman–and one of the police officers says, “They’ll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill.” This cartoon offended many people who saw it as a thinly-veiled insult to President Obama, especially disgusting because of its racist implications.
The Post has since issued a sort-of apology, essentially saying that the cartoon was not intended to have any racial component and they were awfully sorry if anyone was genuinely offended, but folks like (the unnamed) Al Sharpton need to get a life and there’s no way they’re apologizing to him, er, them. I’m not a fan of the sort-of apology. You’re either sorry for something, or you’re not. If you didn’t intend to cause offense, and moreover, don’t feel that your actions merited offense, you can feel bad about the situation, even to the point of regretting your actions because seriously-who-needed-that-hassle?-not-you–but there’s not much point in saying you’re sorry unless you’re going to admit to wrongdoing, even if it means lying through your teeth. The sort-of apology says, “I’m sorry that your sensitivity has caused you to become angry with me. Can we get on with life now?” Really, calling it a “sort-of apology” is something of an overstatement. It’s not an apology, just a request to shut up already because you’re tired of dealing with it and would like the whole thing to be over. It’s totally understandable, but it’s kind of cowardly. Moreover, it doesn’t appease anyone who was really offended. It’s just politesse.
What upsets me about this story is that the cartoon really is offensive–to the poor woman who had her face torn off by her friend’s pet. It’s in very poor taste, considering the human suffering involved in the real-life incident. I think the cartoon is tacky. I don’t think it’s racist.
It’s true that I’m white and haven’t ever been the victim of racism, and so it’s possible I’m just not sensitive enough to these things. I don’t know, though. I was a lefty for many years, and I’m pretty well-schooled in Stuff That’s Racist. I know that even stuff that shouldn’t be racist can still be racist, so it’s often better to avoid such stuff than to risk giving offense. I’m not into offending. I know that some folks have said they were not familiar with the old practice of comparing black people to lower primates. My response to this is, “Wow, you’re lucky. Do some people not even have racist grandparents?” My first week in college I heard a fellow student refer to a group of black students as “monkeys” and the girls who were with him just laughed. I think that might have been the first time I’d heard such a blatantly racist remark coming from someone under the age of 75. (And yes, I did go to college in the south, but the racist-remark-spewing-and-laughing-at students in this story were all from northern states, so take that for what it’s worth.) Anyway, my point is that while I haven’t been exposed to much of this stuff firsthand, I realize that while it’s much less common than it used to be, it still goes on. Also, it’s kind of hard to imagine a scenario in which comparing a human being to a monkey (or any animal, really) isn’t offensive, so ignorance of this peculiar aspect of racial history is a lame excuse.
However, in the context of this cartoon, the chimp isn’t meant to represent any human being. The pertinent facts which allow one to “get” this cartoon (as much as one can “get” something that’s only mildly amusing, even without the offensiveness) are these: 1) There was a chimpanzee that went wild in Stamford, Connecticut, and had to be shot dead by police officers. 2) There was an economic stimulus bill passed by Congress that some people thought was really stupid and crazy. 3) A chimp is pretty smart, for an animal, but it’s not nearly as smart as a human, especially when it’s scared and instinct takes over. The cartoon implies–intentionally–that the stimulus bill was so stupid and crazy that it might as well have been written by a scared chimp on a rampage. Ha. Ha. That crazy stimulus bill. However, some folks–a lot of folks, actually, including Al Sharpton–took it as “the stimulus bill was so stupid and crazy that its author–Pres. Obama–must actually be a chimp.”
No, it doesn’t matter that the bill wasn’t actually written by the president (indeed, I think he had hardly anything to do with its formulation, but that’s another story). On that much I agree with folks who took offense to the cartoon. The bill was championed and signed by the president, so he owns it and may as well be the author. I just think it’s overreaching to infer that the chimp in the cartoon is meant to represent the president or any other human being. That completely removes the punchline of the joke (such as it is). You would have to believe that not only was the cartoonist a racist but that he assumed everyone else would be racist enough to understand that the chimp was supposed to be the president–and also, that he didn’t mean to be funny but merely to make a vicious statement about the president and about all black people.
Should the cartoonist have been savvy enough to predict that some would misinterpret the cartoon? Well, it’s easy enough to say so in hindsight. Perhaps he should have. But I don’t think it’s so far-fetched to say that the cartoonist honestly did not foresee it, and neither did his editors. Some people–a lot of people, actually–can look at a chimp and just see a chimp. It should be heartening that so many people exist, but it’s not.
If the chimp represents the president–or Nancy Pelosi, or Harry Reid, or any of our human elected officials–then the cartoon is worse than racist. It’s saying not only that this person is a chimp–insulting in itself–but that he or she deserves to be shot dead for advancing a particular political agenda. That’s disgusting and morally reprehensible, all racial angles aside. If this chimp represents the president, the cartoon is a thinly-veiled assassination fantasy, which is so sick that it almost makes the racial aspect seem trivial–almost, except that in our society, race is never trivial. The controversy over this cartoon makes that clear enough. Race has a way of inserting itself in everything, even where it should have no significance.
I’m not about to tell anyone how sensitive they “should” be about anything. People feel what they feel, and “You’re too sensitive!” is not a useful statement. But look at this: we live in a world where someone draws a cartoon that references a chimp and an unpopular piece of legislation, and the first thing a lot of white and black people think is, “That chimp represents our black president.” That is sad. Sad and depressing. Coincidentally, Attorney General Eric Holder gave a speech last week in which he said the United States was a “nation of cowards” about race. Unfortunately, he is right.
Madhousewife is the Political Cartoon Czar for the Obama administration.
I have seriously lost the will to blog. And I think I know why:
1. There is nothing interesting going on in my personal life.
2. In absence of an interesting personal life, all I can think about is politics. And I can’t blog about politics because I have rules about political blogging–a) it has to be trivial, and b) it has to involve stupid idiots. Both criteria must be met, and so far I’ve got all “b” and no “a.” That’s just a recipe for Angry White Lady blogging, and no one wants to see that.
3. In absence of an interesting personal life and trivial political issues, there’s just nothing left for me to write about.
Unless…
1. Writing tends to bring up psychological issues that I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
2. Politics is boring.
3. FACEBOOK, dammit!
In lieu of an entertaining item written by me, you can just follow these links to better reading:
1. This reminded me of my recent ozone-layer post, only it’s way more awesome.
2. I know President Obama has ushered in a new era of hope, but this is still kind of creepy, isn’t it? (And by “kind of,” I mean “super.”)
3. Do you care about hobos? Hobos figure prominently in this.
I totally planned on watching, or at least listening to, the inauguration this morning, but I ended up not. For one thing, I wasn’t exactly sure when it was happening. I’ve never watched an inauguration before. Do they do it in the morning or the afternoon? Well, apparently they do it at noon, which makes sense–not too early, not too late–just about perfect, actually. Yes, noon EST, which was about a half-hour ago. Hmph.
Well, what can I say? I don’t usually have the TV on in the morning. I used to always turn the radio on after the kids left for school, but now that Townhall radio has left Portland and the only talk show on at this hour is Rush Limbaugh, I just don’t do the radio anymore either. I feel very out of touch. I download podcasts onto my iPod, but by the time I end up listening to them, the news is old. I suppose I could turn the radio on now, even if it is Rush Limbaugh. I could live-blog Rush Limbaugh’s reaction to the inauguration. That would be…fascinating.
….SNORE….
Sorry, checked out for a minute there.
Okay, now I’ve turned on the radio and some lady is talking. I don’t know who. I suppose I should turn the TV on so I can see who it is. She said “cotton and lettuce.” I just thought of arugula. You know, the arugula thing is finally funny to me, but I don’t think now is the time.
I turned on the TV and she looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her. Hey, I recognize Dianne Feinstein, though. That’s Dianne Feinstein, isn’t it? Who cares? Girlfriend has no patience for this historical moment. TV is back off. Wall-E is on.
Radio is still on. Rush Limbaugh is inserting occasional snark. Not during the benediction, though, so that’s nice.
Yeah, that’s my live-blogging. I should really make breakfast. This cat’s prayer has grown tiresome. I’m sorry, but it’s hard enough for me to listen to prayers in church. I have limited patience for speech-prayer hybrids. I assure you this is not partisan sniping. It’s a personal failing. I take full responsibility for it.
What an awesomely brief speech-prayer. Now they’re singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” I do love “The Star-
Spangled Banner.” I’m sort of alone in this, I realize. But I’m a fan. I like it. And now it’s “Stars and Stripes Forever.” And Rush Limbaugh is being snarky again. And now he’s shut up again. This is really not that compelling on radio. It doesn’t help that I missed the most interesting part.
And now the opening strains of “Back to Ohio.” Ah, the Rush Limbaugh Show. How I have not missed you. Oh, crap, Rush Limbaugh just called the Rev. Lowry’s prayer a “speech-slash-prayer.” Now I feel dirty. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate Rush Limbaugh. Over the years I’ve come to appreciate his peculiar gift(s). He just isn’t my cuppa. I like him best in small doses–preferably at those moments when he’s in really rare form and going off on someone who totally deserves it. But his snark, while restrained, is a little premature here. Have something nice to say for at least five minutes, dude. Radio off.
That reminds me, I’ve been listening to these Townhall podcasts, which I love, but they have these “Grassfire” commercials where some cat invites me to join a “patriotic, conservative resistance” to Barack Obama’s creeping socialism. He doesn’t say “creeping socialism,” he says something else–and I’ve heard it so many freaking times now, I can’t believe I don’t remember the exact words, but it’s something like “Barack Obama’s rapid move toward socialism.” Okay, I’m a conservative. I can finally say those words without choking on them. And I didn’t vote for Barack Obama, there are no tingles going up my leg when he speaks, and I’m obviously not hosting an inaugural party because I’m so effing excited he’s my President. But dude. He was sworn in half an hour ago. HE HASN’T DONE ANYTHING YET. Can we hold off a little on the histrionics, please? I’m trying not to have expectations. I want to give Pres. Obama a chance for success. I don’t want him to succeed at enacting a socialist agenda, but he just became President a few minutes ago. Let’s see what he actually does before we start forming a resistance to it.
Hopefully, you all already bought your automatic weapons. Right?
I’m just teasing. (You bought them, right? You got my back?) I was going to tell you about my weekend, but I’m trying to work on making my blog posts less long-winded, so you’ll have to wait. I know it’s Tuesday already. Maybe later today. I just need more time. Make like I’m Pres. Obama and be patient with me!
This is something I didn’t talk about during the election season, but I’m going to talk about it now because it’s still going on and it’s just bugging the living crap out of me. I’m talking about people–mostly right-wing fringies and Ann Coulter–going out of their way to reference Barack Obama’s middle name, “Hussein.” Fringies and Ann Coulter-type people, what the heck is this about? So his middle name is “Hussein.” BIG DEAL. Lots of folks are named Hussein. It’s a very common name. It was his father’s name, I believe. (Right? I know, I could Wiki it, but I’m too lazy.) When you make a special point to call him “Barack Hussein Obama” or “B. Hussein Obama,” what exactly are you trying to say? That his father was a Muslim? That he must be secretly Muslim? Ooooh, I’m soooooo scared! (In case you couldn’t tell, I was being sarcastic!) Seriously, it’s his name. His parents gave it to him when he was a BABY. It’s not like he grew up idolizing Saddam Hussein and changed his name when he turned 18 in order to signify his crazy-murdering-dictator worship. IT’S JUST A NAME! IT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING! And if you think it does mean something, you are a stupid idiot. (Yes, I know “stupid idiot” is redundant, but I figured you were so dumb you would need to hear it twice in order to understand!) Remember when Dick Cheney shot that guy on accident while duck-hunting (or quail-hunting–like it matters) and the media made this big deal out of it, like it was now obvious that Dick Cheney was dangerous? (He shot his best friend on accident! Run for your lives!) This rivals that in stupidity, only it’s worse because it’s such a thinly-veiled appeal to people’s bigotry. (Yes, I said “bigotry.” I’m going all touchy-feely on you now. Don’t worry, it won’t last.)
I don’t know why I never blogged about this before. It fits all my criteria for political blogging: a) it’s trivial, and b) it involves stupid idiots. Perhaps I was afraid it would distract people from the myriad of legitimate reasons not to vote for Barack Obama. … No. That’s really unlike me. Maybe I just didn’t want to feed that attention whore, Ann Coulter. (Because I’m jealous! That must be it!)
Some have speculated that Barack Obama will probably not be sworn in with his middle name, but I hope they’re wrong. I hope he does use his middle name, just to stick it to all the stupid idiots who are bothered by him having a name of Arabic origin. I want to hear him say, “I, Barack HUSSEIN Obama–suck it, haters!–do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. Even on behalf of stupid idiots.” That would be using his power for AWESOME.
It’s time to ease up on the all-caps and exclamation points and have a little music (very little).
This morning, Princess Zurg was hating on the Disney channel again. This is a digression, but we don’t even have the Disney channel, we don’t have cable period, and she has never seen the Disney channel, so it’s kind of funny that the Disney channel would intrude so much into our personal lives. But there it is. Anyway, to distract her from yet another speech on the poor taste of tween girls, I decided to tell her the story of Hannah Montana’s dad, Billy Ray Cyrus. How when I was in college, Billy Ray Cyrus had a very popular song called “Achy-Breaky Heart.” She thought that was a very funny name for a song. I knew that she would because come on, it was ridiculous then–it must be twice as ridiculous now! I even sung a few bars for her, and that sent her over the edge. “What does that even mean???” she asked, all broken up in giggles. Then she asked me to stop singing because, let’s face it, it’s kind of a painful song to listen to. And I’m no Hannah Montana.
Wasn’t there also a line dance or something called the “Achy-Breaky”? Not that I would know. [Changes subject abruptly] How about those Ducks?
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