Best Bumpersticker Yet!

A very kind friend sent along an image of a bumpersticker she encountered, and it's a terrific one too!

Obama is not a foreign born, brown skinned, anti-war socialist that gives away healthcare

YOU'RE THINKING OF JESUS

Just had to pass that along here and on Twitter. How cool is that?!

Oh, and don't forget to scroll down past the posts and the Blog Archive to feed my fishes! (They get really hungry between posts, you know.)

Today's Special: All You Can Hate

If I had not already come to this realization, the death of Trayvon Martin certainly made it clear: Today our nation is full of hate. As full of hate, one could posit, as ever it has been since the anti-Civil Rights atrocities of the 1960s. Or the unspeakable crimes of years earlier, coincidentally enough committed by the REAL EVIL IN THE HOODIES.

So many among us grasp for reasons to explain this horrific murder, not to salve the pain of the parents' grief nor in any attempt to help us get our minds around the tragedy, but to find a way to excuse the shooter. Re-read that last sentence. Geraldo Rivera said George Zimmerman didn't kill Trayvon, the child's own hoodie killed him. (He tried inartfully to tie this to his own son who later tweeted him a disapproval.) And Geraldo wasn't alone in this claim and each time I hear it proposed I think: Blame the victim. Well honey, if you go out dressed like that you're just asking to be raped. Do we want any child's parents to have to say to them; "Looks like rain, baby. Make sure you don't put up your hoodie. I want you back alive!"

Most of me is white and all of me is shocked, and not. I was of course aware that our society looks at people of color differently, you have only to check incarceration and arrest rates to prove that. But I hadn't taken it to the assimilation point: What does this mean our neighbors of color have to adjust in their lives to deal with that "different treatment". Can any of us who are not of obvious color imagine having "the talk" with our kids about how to speak to the police, to never run from danger without forethought, to not go to a "safe place" like a house or store to get assistance, to let your head get wet from rain rather than your own blood?

I'm prejudiced. We all are. Just last week, two people were walking down my street. The first thing I noticed was that they were both men. They were white men, but that wasn't what I was looking at. I wanted one of them to be a woman. I'm used to seeing couples walk together. I only harbored the concern for a fraction of a moment, but in that fraction I unknowingly and irrationally offended men and didn't even consider that they might have been a gay couple. In some reverse/perverse version of Sharia Law, I wanted a woman to go out of the house with the men. I wanted this non-present woman to keep me safe.

From what? Too many Y-chromosomes? Facial hair? Shlongism? How utterly stupid of me--Me, who prides myself in my twitter activism to help right social injustices. I stood there a beat and stared out my windows at two friends enjoying a warm morning. (Maybe if they'd had a dog with them...)

Which is EXACTLY why we do not need these trigger-happy gun laws. We all pre-judge. Psychologists say that first we see gender--I proved that point--then we go on to make a thousand little assessments and assumptions of everyone we see. We can't help it. Imagine those thousand little assessments now as BULLETS. You cannot put those killer genies back in their bottles. We shouldn't be afraid of each other, we should be afraid of the guns and the damned gun lobby. The old "If you outlaw guns..." argument is bullshit. The outlaws DO have the guns, and the laws on their side.

Newt Gingrich showed his prejudice when he chimed in on President Obama's comments about the Trayvon Martin shooting. Newt said the President took an appalling attitude by making the story about race. Newt said it should be about all Americans. So all Americans aren't moved by issues of race? And Newt is uncomfortable that the President cites a similarity in his appearance (as it would occur in a son if he had one) and that of Trayvon? What do these insecurities tell us about Newt's mental meanderings?

If that's not enough for you, how about Glen Beck? He makes the illogical and false argument that Trayvon was the aggressor. Based on what? We've all heard the 9-1-1 recordings. We know what was in Zimmerman's "heart". We know who was hunting whom. Beck goes on to assert that Trayvon must've been the bad guy because he was suspended from school for 10 days. When confronted with the fact that the suspension was over some slight like tardiness, an unsatisfied Beck looked up school rules in the Miami area, not Orlando. Among the infractions that could get you a 10-day suspension in Miami are: sexual offenses and violent acts. So in a state of frenzied bad logic, Beck assumes that Trayvon must be guilty of such wrongs. He decides Zimmerman, the only one in the incident with a troubling past or a police relationship, is the victim.

How much do you have to hate to go looking for lies to support what you WANT to believe? How much do you have to hate to not be willing to let the unarmed black child be the victim? Let's not even try to get inside the demented minds of the Sanford, Florida police department nor the coroner's office: Would they let a white child lay in a morgue for three days without contacting the parents? Without using the child's cell phone to call his home? They had plenty of time to run tox screens of the corpse, but no time to tell his daddy he was dead.

There are many guilty parties here. ALEC, the NRA, the Florida legislature, and Jeb Bush for the law; Glen Beck, Newt Gingrich, and George Zimmerman for the hate. We can educate ourselves and put the heat on those who push and pass dangerous legislation. We can demand justice and repercussions. But the thing we must to do is look inside ourselves. We have to sweep the world clean of hate one doorstep at a time, starting with our own.

As for me, I'll work on that whole jaundiced eye illness of mine. Do I hate? I don't think so. Did I question? Yes, and that's bad enough. I "came up against myself" and failed my own test. Like all of us, I have work to do.

And I'll start by letting two men walk down my street without risk of tripping over my cast aspersions.

Love Me Like An Animal

Of all the news stories this past week--from the horrific to the absurd--the one that struck me the most was the tale of the priest who, after having denied a lesbian woman Communion at her mother's funeral, went on to compare her to an alcoholic or drug addict saying he would have taken the same action if faced with someone who was drunk or high.

I reflected on this just now under the cover of pre-dawn darkness--and a comforter that no matter how many washings seems to have sprouted a permanent coat of Retriever/Sheltie/Cocker/Shih-tzu--while snuggling with Rosie (the Shih-tzu). Her little abdomen against mine, we rose and fell on each breath, warm and comfortable together. She wasn't thinking about the unknown horrors of her prior abuses, about the painful, glaucoma-riddled eye she no longer has, about being dropped alongside a busy highway in an unfamiliar state to fend for herself. She wasn't judging my weight or my race, my politics nor who I loved just as long as I loved her. For while she may not ever be 100% whole--whatever that is--she knows that when the Shih-tzu hits the fan, I'll be there for her. Whether one-eyed or no-eyed, I will never turn my back on this sweet little girl who has managed to love humans again no matter what the race had done to her previously.

That Catholic priest could learn a lot from Rosie. He could learn that priests should give homilies, not be homophobes. He could even listen to his pal Jesus and "judge not, lest ye be judged". All the woman wanted to do was honor her mother's life and passing with the one person who means the most to her, who happens to also be a woman. She wasn't asking a favor, she was a guest in a house of worship and was sent away unceremoniously. There was no welcome, no empathy, no humanity in her treatment. She only asked to say goodbye with the moral support of her dearest one. She was honoring this parish with her acceptance and got none in return.

We've been here before: with segregation, religious persecution, suffrage--everything from wheelchair ramps to our classrooms and battlefields has been precipitated upon renouncing hate. The Statue of Liberty invites all and this Catholic church--and many churches--slam their doors shut whenever faced with someone "other", someone who presents a "challenge" not to their beliefs, but to their view of humanity. This priest on this solemn occasion certainly failed his challenge.

But lest this turn into a rant against religion, let me now spin the camera around on us progressives. For while we wear that badge with honor, we do seem hellbent at times to judge just what it means to be progressive. Maybe I'm a PINO, but I think progress is progress. If we're moving ahead, we're progressing. And like Rosie, ever little insult may never be fully addressed, but we have to be there for each other when the biggest challenges come: say, an election. The perfect cannot be the enemy of the good, and the progressive righteous should not be the enemy of the progressive realist. We must allow each other to push the cart of regression with the speed at which we are capable. The caucus doors must not slam shut, silencing any voices no matter how fervent nor muted. Not when there's so much work yet to be done.

I do not care who a person loves because it is not my business nor my concern. What is my concern is that they be allowed to love that person openly, legally, and with all the rights and respect afforded to those of us who just happen not to be lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, or transgendered. Remember, it wasn't so long ago--and is still the present moment in some quarters--when the words as the end of that sentence could've been: Jewish, black, Asian, female, handicapped, Japanese-American, Hispanic, Native American. Just where are these tracks that one can come from the wrong side of and why do they keep moving? That verdigris visionary in New York's harbor didn't qualify her invitation nor drape it in epithets. And I'm quite sure she would "non parler" the words "illegal immigrant".

But before my Cherokee great-grandmother invokes herself, let's go back to religion for an ever bigger picture. Imagine one tiny, neck-sized ring floating in the water somewhere on Earth's surface. The Buddhists say that to be born human is about as likely as for a sea turtle swimming anywhere in the Earth's vast oceans to surface right at that spot, spearing its neck through the ring. Just to be here at this time of planet Earth, of the human race is an unfathomable gift. We've gotten a lot of invitations to get this far, to be here now. We've come a long way, baby.

Seems a little silly to argue over who really deserves a political title or a seat in a chapel, doesn't it? So much of what we all are is "sameness"; we're human earthlings traveling through this one and only opportunity to be so. Sure the minutiae will crowd in and grab our attention, that's part of our job of making this trip a good one for everyone possible: To have empathy, to be gracious and welcoming.

Is it so much trouble to let a lesbian into a funeral? Rosie says she's not too sure what that priest got from his religious training, but she does know that he could really use a load of Shih-tzu.

It Ain't Easy, Bleeding Green

It's hard out there for a Muppet these days. Seems everyone is out to get them.

So they come out of retirement to release a new film. Of course critics will have their say, and the Republicans will see wolves' clothing where there aren't even sheep. But Goldman Sachs execs? And now the Widder Cobain? What gives?

According to former equity derivatives Goldman employee, Greg Smith, his colleagues routinely referred to their clients as "muppets". He didn't seem to think they meant to categorize those folks as soft, plushy, tender, nor studied in the Vaudevillian tradition. And Courtney Love, adoringly known to some--mainly me--as the Widder Cobain, claims the shaggy set had no rights to use Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in the aforementioned movie. Turns out she sold off 25% of her stake in hubby's music legacy, along with distribution rights, and that the two remaining members of the band had given their okays to the project.

But evidently, the damage is done. Kermit the Frog has had to nail down a side gig on "The Colbert Report" as a "swampland political analyst" assessing the current GOP field. Hi-Ho! I look forward to his analysis of Gonzo Gingrich and Sam (the eagle) Santorum. (He's already dealt with Mitt "Tex Richman" Romney in the film. And Ron Paul could be played by any Muppet of your choosing.) Kermie can keep us up on all the slitherings of Newt and the holes in the holy arguments of Sanctimonious Santorum. He can remind Mitt that it ain't easy being greedy, and maybe he will actually cover poor little Ronnie Paul. (Where in the world is Ron? MSM doesn't care.)

But I think Kermit will survive just fine. Anything that these turmoils in his life have caused to slough off can always regenerate. And as for the Goldman-Love connection? He's used to greed and tough women. Just ask Miss Piggy.

Season's Greetings

I rarely do anything by the clock nor the calendar, but my psyche sensed something this weekend and swoosh, a curtain came down on the winter of my malcontentedness.

I got the energy. I haven't had the energy in a while--no I won't say how long, you'd laugh--and was doubtful it would ever return. But I find that in the past couple of days I have planted seeds--watermelon and tomato sprouts are just coming up--turned and separated the compost into three containers, organized all my correspondence, rearranged the living room furniture a bit, swept the floors, and cooked then cooked some more.

This morning I was off to assist with standardized testing week at the Middle School, as they feed the entire student body breakfast every day during testing. Then when I got home, I made two big trays of chocolate twice-covered strawberries--once in milk chocolate with an icing of white chocolate for effect. (The effect of getting very fat, that is.)

And the energy couldn't have come too soon. I seem to have discovered 20 pounds that I really don't need, shouldn't keep, and ought to let someone else carry around. But with all the gardening I'm planning this year, and if we keep having 60-degree days, that weight should drop off without too much gnashing and wailing. That's the plan anyway.

And the Spring birthday party season has begun. Little paper flowers announcing, "You're Invited" have begun to sprout across my refrigerator door. The extra sunlight has melted the little snow we had left in the yard. And just a few days back I walked the back yard in little blocks like an archaeologist setting up a dig, and in long rows as you would when pushing a lawn mower. But my task was different: I was hunting for deer and elk scat to add to the compost pile. The neighbor children watched with dismay as I squealed with delight at every new discovery. (My own kids just roll their eyes and yawn at such things.) But as I was walking with purpose I also relaxed into the memory of my first walk in this yard, back when we decided to buy this house. My experience has always been that if you fall in love with the yard first, you've found the right house. As I strolled along my patterns I had the definite feeling that I was massaging the earth beneath my feet, that I was slowly combing the hair of a beloved one. Picking up poop was never so pleasant as it was that day.

My calendar is filling with meetings and luncheons, school events and political appointments, parties and adventures. The Spring thaw has come to town and with it, I thaw as well.

Happy Spring!

Mitty Gritty

Aw, my land! Those GOPpers sho' 'nuff did invade the South last week, didn't they now?
They did such things as: et grits, drawled "y'all", pigged out on barbecue, and hugged some gals!
Whut a week.

Funny thing is, they didn't mention the poverty, unemployment, lack of health care, lousy schools, or the war so many Southerners are fighting in Afghanistan. And they sure didn't seem interested in getting out the vote (well, not after THEIR primaries), nor getting the probes out of ladies' hoo-hoos. Naw suh, they're all just fine with that Photo ID business and that old invasive ultrasound nonsense. And you know they're all A-OK with those inhumane immigration bills/laws. Oh yes, THOSE are the pressing issues, Missy!

Now they're taking their sad little carnival a tad North: Missouri, then Illinois. And while our friends in the press seem to think this to be Romney Country--or realize it just needs to be--I'm sure old Ricky Santo is gonna do a little more sweeping up there. I'm betting on a near solid swath of Santo States all along the Mississippi Valley.

Gingrich seems unwilling to relent--though his patron may be--leaving us to wonder where his votes would go if he were to drop out. You just know he'd attempt to cede his delegates to Santo what with the bitter hatred he harbors for Romney over the whole Iowa situation. But the pundits say that some Gingrich votes yet to be cast would go to Romney. I guess I can see that--the establishment and K Street types--but I think the regular Janes and Joes will ride the Santorum train if Newt's caboose scoots off the rails.

Santorum will win Missouri and will likely give Romney a run for some of his vast fortune in Illinois. Funny really: Show Me the Land of Lincoln and I'll show you anything other than the current GOP field. What would Abe think?

More predictions: The candidates will nosh on St. Louis BBQ ribs, talk a lot about the Cardinals, have photo ops under the Arch, eat Chicago-style pizzas and hotdogs, talk a lot about the Cubs and the White Sox, and have photo ops along Lake Michigan.

But Springfield? I hope that's not a stop on their itineraries. So does Abe.

GRAND Re-OPENING

To honor the near-first anniversary of this blog--and to make it much more pleasant (for me, anyway)--I've cleaned things up, gotten rid of most of the gadgets, and installed a background that I truly love to look at.

Hope you enjoy the "new look" and find it easier to navigate. ('Cuz there's bloody little left to navigate.)
You'll find the three most recent posts, followed by the blog archive and info-images for my ebooks. Inbetween those elements, you'll find a fishy game. (They'll follow your mouse to see if you'll click'em some food.)


Thanks to all who've visited over the past year. I'll make no promises--I'm more of a list-maker than a goal-keeper--but with this new streamlined appearance, I might even visit more often myself.

10 Best Things About My 50th Birthday Yesterday

10. Finding two homemade garments at the Goodwill.

09. Walking the dogs for the first time in two months and discovering that harnesses really do work on the pullers! (I'm looking at you, my Woody.)

08. The very attractive restauranteur telling me at my b'day breakfast that she's 65--you'd never believe it--and that "it's all uphill from here".

07. Finding and placing my first 2012 garden structures.

06. Enjoying the backyard.

05. Teddy, the sheltie, riding the recumbent bike all by himself.

04. The first really warm, windless day.

03. My son choosing "The Artist" over "The Lorax".

02. BFF Tyla singing "Happy Birthday" to me on the voicemail.

01. The poem, entitled "21st Century Woman", my daughter wrote for me.

No Way, Joe S.

I remember well that early morning back in California when insomnia introduced me to "Morning Joe" on MSNBC. It must've been Java Joe's in Iowa or some other primary season haunt: People sitting in director's chairs with little direction, slanted at angles to each other both physically and politically, all against a clangy background of morning routines and people being people. It was, in a word, infectious.

I've been watching the show ever since, from one Presidential election cycle to the next, with (usually) great enjoyment. Many of my Twitter pals knock the co-host, Joe Scarborough, for his sometimes ill-conceived "conservative" views. I find myself at odds with Joe on a routine basis, but never really saw the need to complain voraciously. Maybe a little jab here and there.

Then I was watching in the dark of a mild Colorado morning today when Joe compared Rush Limbaugh's rant against Georgetown University grad student, Sandra Fluke, with comments Bill Maher made about Sarah Palin. I won't say that my mouth dropped or that my heart rate soared, but the comparison more than hit me wrong, as the saying goes. First of all, Maher is a comedian, and no matter how many times Keith Oberman calls him one, Limbaugh isn't. Secondly, Maher doesn't give marching orders to the Democratic Party, Limbaugh IS the Republican Party. Lastly, Maher was commenting on a very public, household-name-type personality who chooses over and again to go toward the bright light of publicity while Limbaugh chose to deride a college student who was attempting to speak to Congress on a matter of public policy.

I don't think Joe finds the words themselves comparable; his point was that "The Left" didn't call out Maher the way they are slamming Limbaugh. I find even that to be a false equivalency for the reasons I've just listed. But putting that to one side, Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-MO), definitely not "The Left", told Chris Matthews on "Hardball" this afternoon that she did chastise David Letterman when he called out Sarah Palin's daughters. Not Palin herself, but her family. That's closer to the same ballpark. You may know of other examples.

And speaking of ballparks, those of us who've watched forever know there's a drinking game for every time Joe mentions his tenure in the U.S. Congress which is triggered by the number 1994. The inside baseball joke here is that we can name the cohorts--Matt Salmon, Steve Largent, and Mark Sanford--as easily as Chicago Cubs fans can reel off the names Tinkers to Evers to Chance. Joe considers these fellow representatives and a few others to be his brand of "small government conservatives". He has his glory day memories, as he should. But the "Field of Dreams" that was once his Republican Party has become a bit of a nightmare. Joe's frustration is obvious. But he shouldn't let that cloud his vision on the issue of Rush Limbaugh. In the "apology" issued over the weekend, Limbaugh never uttered the word "sorry". He continues to deride Ms. Fluke on the airwaves. He talks about her time at Cornell University where she was involved with "leftist feminist groups" and attended "pro-abortion rallies". Note to Rush: No one is "pro-abortion". No one is "anti-life". Most of us, however, are pro-choice. (Not that this was even what was at issue!)

But there was another topic of discussion on today's show that got my attention. Voter suppression. More than 30 states, sadly including mine, are proffering Voter ID and/or Proof of Citizenship documents for this November's election. Though the case was made to Joe, he just couldn't understand that these are intended to suppress the vote and disenfranchise millions of would-be voters nationwide. Not only that, but in the states where these documents--never before required--will cost the voter money, the measures amount to a poll tax, something we outlawed long ago. And if you take out the fraud committed by elections officials, there's practically none left to prosecute, unless you consider a fraction of a fraction of a single percentage point to be troubling.

I'll keep watching the show for the same reason I began that first morning: the format is captivating. I love the conversation and I even enjoy the people. I listen to everyone whether I agree with them or not. And I think Joe usually does that too. He just missed the mark a bit today. We all have off days. I hope he'll see his way out of the forest on these two issues.