Saturday, January 20, 2007

Mrs. Clinton goes to Washington.

And this time she wants the big desk. What a shame it would be for "feminists" if she were to be elected. The first female president should not be a calculating shrew who got there on her husband's jock and her willingness to sell out her ultra liberal base in order to appear centrist and moderate.
I live in a liberal enclave, and even here I am not hearing excitement about this bitch's candidacy. Maybe the excitement over Amy Klobuchar is overwhelming the potential enthusiasm over Hilary. Or maybe even all these folks who still have John Kerry stickers on their bumpers recognize an elitist, carpet-bagging poser when they see one.

Monday, January 15, 2007

How F***ing weird is this.

I was going to start a new blog, with a link to & from this one so my mom could find me again. (Recently the Shtrib said most blogs have less than one reader, and I am pretty sure my mom reads mine & my sister's, hence our almost one reader each). Anyway, since the Scrib also said that there were something like 1 billion blogs already, and I do believe in the 3 Rs whenever possible, I decided to reuse my old blog.

The name I'd planned for the new one would have been either Madonna's African Baby, or Your African Baby- something like that. Another reason to recycle- the Madonna's African baby story is pretty O.N. and far be it from me to keep commenting on something everyone on the face of the earth is sick of hearing about, including Madonna's African not-quite-an-orphan. Besides, I'll get my chance when the kid is seven & some little friend of his shows him pictures of his hairy-ass butt naked white mama.

I'm also done with schooling (for now) (yea me) so I am slowly regaining my familiarity with reading for choice, not thesis material. And I've made another discovery.

I like to drink.

I am not talking, cirrhosis, kids in foster care, 8th DUI type drink. I mean that I am finally accepting that I like to have a cocktail every now and again like a grownup. Beer, mixed, fermented, whatever. It's almost all good.

So, here I am, 2pm on MLK's day, kids parked in front of the TV playing a rowdy version of Scene It involving dives on & off the furniture, apparently, Cosmo in hand & writing what is basically a note to my mom.

More efficient than email, if you ask me.

Friday, January 20, 2006

The "Plantation" remark...

I usually ignore the political pandering to my race. I don't attend the rallies or speeches, I gloss over the quotes in the paper, I don't engage in conversations with supporters. It irritates me, but through avoidance I don't let it get to me.

I heard & was offended by Hilary Clinton's "...the house is run like a plantation, and you all know what I mean" remark.

No, Hilary. I don't know what you mean. Why don't you explain yourself, eloquently, like you did with the Tammy Wynette remark so many years ago, instead of letting the party's handlers send your lone Black colleague out to try to smooth things over?

Not that I care what you think. Because You. Don't. Represent. Me. Nor do you speak for me, nor can you speak to me, nor to my cultural experience and history. How dare you hijack an experience unique to my race to further your personal ambitions and objectives. The house is run like a plantation? What, are some representatives forced to do the bidding of others with the fear of the lash or the noose as their motivator?

Frankly, I'm not seeing that level of coercion on the telecasts.

I do appreciate that she's proving my point as she's trying to capitalize on her whoremonger husband's appeal to some segments of Black society as a means to curry favor. I don't see the tactic working as well for her. The woman lacks appeal.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Hilary Clinton should not be our first female president.

If elected, she would not provide a 'clean win' for feminists. She rode the jock of a sex addict and serial philanderer to power, she neither earned it nor achieved it on her own.

There are examples of females who have reached levels of power without tying themselves to a man to get there. Margaret Thatcher and Condoleeza Rice come to mind.

Friday, January 06, 2006

"Support Our Troops-My sergeant Uncle"

My 11 year old daughter wrote this essay for a language arts assignment:

"My uncle is a sergeant in the National Guard. I admire him for this. He's been deployed once; he went to Kosovo, in Serbia. Now he's training to go to Iraq. I missed him when he was in Kosovo. I miss him as he's training, and I'll miss him when he's in Iraq.

When my uncle is away with the National Guard, I'm sad and I miss him because I don't know how he is (and when he's training I probably don't know where he is). He emails, and sends pictures, but that's not the same. I want to see him in person, not on the computer.

About my uncle's deployment, he's been deployed in Kosovo, Serbia. In training for this, he was mostly at Fort Stewart, Georgia. He was training for an estimated six months. He was in Kosovo for about seven months.

As for Iraq, he'll be training for another three months. He has been training for about four months already. My uncle's training has mostly been at Fort Shelby, Mississippi. He'll be in Iraq for another 12 months.

My family all knows where he's going. We also know that he's going to be okay, and he wants to do what he's doing. I will pray for my uncle everyday; I'll pray for his safe return. I'll know that he is in safe hands. I will send lots of cards to him and others at his station. I'll also send useful and decorative things. I'll show lots of love in what I send. I will show that I support my uncle completely.

The rest of my family and I are very proud of my uncle. He is a great soldier; he is a great person.

To add to my pride in my uncle, I know that when he's away with the National Guard he's fighting as a representative of our country. He's representing the United States of America; he's representing my best friend; he's representing my neighbor; and he's representing me, as are all the soldiers out there fighting in the United States Army."

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

I just bought a huge truck/SUV.

I've become one of those suburban people that I'm always complaining about. Broke, but riding in style.

(I'm not even getting into the environmental impact thing. Those people irritate me almost as much as the over-indulged self-absorbed clueless suburbanites.)

I'll probably get some stern looks taking up two parking spaces next to the bike rack at the co-op in St. Paul.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Simba & Nala...

Decided to check in on some of my old favorites this evening and stumbled across this post from Chris at Dangerous Logic.

I have a golden. I gave him an extra hug after looking at Sully & Wrigley's then & now photos. Two good-looking dogs. Thank goodness Simba's only 6 or 7. I'm not ready to contemplate that goodbye.

We named him Simba because he showed up on our doorstep and my son, who has autism, said "What's that lion doing on our doorstep?" Later, after a successful campaign to convince spouse that we needed not just a dog but this dog, the kids & I were at Petco buying toys and dishes and whatnot & trying to come up with a name for him. My youngest, then a preschooler, said Simba! It just stuck.

He's loving, goofy, sweet and healing for a family adversely affected by a lousy so-called developmental disorder.

Nala joined us more recently, following the breakup of her original owners. She fits in perfectly.