It has come to my disappointed attention that politicians and other public figures aren’t reading my blog and structuring their lives around my sound judgment and sage advice. To wit, this post. Once again, I am obliged to be aware of the sexual misadventures of an aging, political Lothario. Thanks a fat, freakin’ lot Arnie!

While democrats have our share of entitled old tom cats ruining lives and shaming wives, it’s more salacious coming from republicans. Republicans have this annoying habit of harping about “family values” and “sanctity of marriage.” For the uninitiated, these phrases translate to “we hate gay people, oh, and women.” Whenever I hear some right-wing pissacre touting the superiority of his moral positions, and how X (gay marriage, science, birth control, what have you) is destroying our country (which we are then required to “take back”), I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Countdown to his arrest for indecent exposure to minors in 3…2…1….!

So, the Governator’s admission (made only after he was safely out of office, btw) that he betrayed his wife and family with his cheatin’ dog-ways wasn’t a surprise. In fact, my first response to Mr. Prairie was, “How very republican of him.”

And since this was a right-wing dalliance, there had to be some extra unsavory aspect to the whole thing. Larry Craig-busted in an airport bathroom; Newt Gingrich-dumped a cancer-stricken wife for a younger, healthier model (did John Edwards borrow this playbook?); John McCain-dumped an injured wife for a younger, healthier, wealthier model; Mark Sanford-dumped his uber-supportive wife for the “love of his life” because cheating on your wife isn’t insulting enough.

Schwarzenegger, being European, decided to add a little classist, upstairs-downstairs action to the whole sordid mess. He fathered a child with a household employee. So the Lord of the Manor got caught boffing the chamber maid. How very cliched.

I know that nobody really knows what happens inside a marriage, except for the two people in it. But I have to wonder exactly what prompted this hurtful revelation after so many years. Ms. Shriver has reacted exactly as you expect her to react to a slap in the face. And just as my opinion of Jenny Sanford increased exponentially when she refused to play her part as the dutiful wife, so has my opinion of Ms. Shriver since she left him.

I mean, really, what did he think was going to happen?

Saturday, January 8, 2011. Is it destined to become one of those dates that is horrifyingly burned into our collective memory? JFK, MLK, RFK, Reagan, Challenger, Oklahoma City, 9-11. Tucson. Where were you? What were you doing? These are the question we will ask other people. But what we really mean and will never ask is, “How did it make you feel?” And that’s the one question we should ask.

How we all feel about the attempted assassination of Congresswoman Giffords will determine the future course of our country. This is a linchpin moment. Do we, finally, pull the linchpin on the over-heated, hate-filled, eliminationist rhetoric on the right before irrevocable damage is done to our society as a whole? Frankly, I’m scared.

I don’t call for a quashing of honest political debate. Nor a curtailment of free speech. I don’t live under an illusion that someday everyone will wake up and magically be in agreement about everything and there will be rainbows and unicorns and all will be right with the world. The republicans disagree with the democrats, the tea-partiers disagree with everyone (you kids get off my lawn!), the libertarians can’t even agree inside their own heads, and the greens or whatever they call themselves these days can’t stop agreeing with each other long enough to get anything done.

Contentiousness is built into the American character. We are a nation built on weirdos and malcontents and pie-in-the-sky dreamers, jumped-up wannabe blue-bloods, ornery cusses, outlaws, puritans and the kind of people that get kicked out of more civilized countries. But we are also a nation of the Nations that were here long before the pilgrims arrived, people robbed of their birthrights by greed and malice. My Nation, my ancestors, my blood. We are also a nation literally built on the backs of people of color. Brought here against their will to be slaves to jumped-up wannabe blue-bloods. We cannot forget that we are also a nation of refugees, people with nowhere else to go, people escaping grinding poverty in their home countries, people escaping real persecution for the color of their skin or their religious beliefs or ethnic background.

Our differences make us stronger, but.

We, the diverse American people, have to demand that our politicians, pundits, and preachers start behaving like decent people again. I’m looking at you Sarah, Glen, and Rush. And Ann, Sean, Fred, Michelle and lots of other righties that I’m forgetting because whatever. If you noticed that I didn’t include liberals in my list, it was on purpose. While left-leaning voices can sometimes be strident and strong, we don’t call for “2nd Amendment remedies,” or to “reload,” or put people in cross-hairs. I’m not saying there aren’t violent individuals in our camp, but they are totally fringe and are treated as such, not hailed as heroes.

There are no talk shows hosted by ELF members regularly calling for new housing additions to be torched or trees to be spiked. And left-wing violence would absolutely not be condoned in word, deed, or silence by our elected officials. Left-wing fringe violence would be condemned and not recast as really-they-weren’t-liberal-they-were-somethingelse, or deflected, or blamed on the victims. That shit’s right-wing tactics.

Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords is a democrat (though a conservative one) in a heavily republic state. She is Jewish, she is a highly-visible woman in the traditional male-stronghold of government, and she made herself accessible to her constituents. Any of these factors could be the motivation behind her assassination attempt.

In the end, based on the shooter’s muddled internet ramblings and bizarre beliefs, it may be that her very accessibility lead to her being targeted.

Even if that is the case, we must not lose sight of the fact that right-wing eliminationist rhetoric loaded the gun. And a madman pulled the trigger. An already troubled mind cannot steep long in the noxious tea a-brewing in this country, without breaking in some fashion.

I’ll tell you how I feel about Congresswoman Giffords’ shooting. I feel sick about it. Sick and disgusted. And I’m tired of being told that both sides need to be more civil. Democrats are always the ones that have to be civil, and play nice, and walk on eggshells, and make sure we don’t offend the delicate sensibilities of the poor, privileged whiny babies on the right. Republicans need to clean up their collective, public act and democrats need to quit worrying about being fair and start standing up for what is right.

I come from a long line of plain-spoken country women and I believe in calling a spade a spade. It’s not fertilizer, it’s bullshit and the right-wing needs to start minding their manners and stop tracking it into the house.

These reasons have shuffled about in ranking of importance to me over the years based upon my current life-status and circumstances. But the numero uno, biggest, most important reason or explanation for my political affiliation can be summed up with one word: children. Even before I had children of my own, I realized that every child should be a wanted child. Even before I was old enough to vote, I could see the detrimental effect that republican policies have on schools (good-bye resident artist, hello overcrowded classrooms).  And Nancy, that whole “Just Say No”-thing, what an insult to our intelligence and what a handy way to duck responsibility.

Now that I have children of my own, they are my first personal priority.  But as a parent, and responsible citizen, I can also expand my caring to include every mothers’ children. I can’t go the I-got-mine-screw-you route on anything, but most especially where children are concerned. How awful would it be to care only for one’s own children and not care at all about their friends or all the other children in one’s community. When one child is disadvantaged, we are all the poorer.

We all want to live in an orderly, well-functioning, globally competitive society and the only way to ensure that we do is to make sure that all of Oklahoma’s, all of America’s children are safe, sheltered, healthy, well-fed, and well-educated. We have to make children and their care and education our first priority as a state, as a nation. Our country will fail if we fail to do this. But if we succeed in this, if we put our money where our rhetoric is, if we boost all children, then our nation will point the way to the future for all others to follow.

I wrote to both of the outstanding women running for governor Oklahoma today, well, I commented on each of their websites. On Mary Fallin’s website (the repub.), I had difficulty finding a place to leave a comment and ended up using the contact link in very tiny print at the bottom of the homepage. (I later found the comment area, but didn’t think they’d print my comment anyway.) I congratulated her on her primary victory and told her that I wouldn’t be voting for her. And I told her why: I find her party to be too beholden to multi-national corporations and the most hateful voices on in our community.

I then reminded her that she needs to place the children of Oklahoma first and that closing down our borders wouldn’t do our kids one lick of good. Then I mentioned something about how she would work for all of Oklahoma and not to be too concerned about cuddling up to the old boys’ network.

Worrying about immigrants from Mexico, legal or otherwise, will not benefit our children. What will? Providing for quality public education (which can’t be done on the cheap!), making sure that children have health care even if their parents can’t afford it (as the anti-choicers like to say, it isn’t the baby’s fault!), making sure that no child goes hungry or only has junk food to eat, and helping struggling parents.

About childhood hunger, it’s a cryin-ass shame that any child in this bounteous land of ours goes to bed hungry. And it’s telling that Oklahoma has such pitiful records on obesity and divorce and child abuse. These things don’t happen in a vacuum.

Then I went to Jari Askins’ site and found one of her comments sections at the bottom of “about” page and left a supportive comment. Which was published very quickly.

The fundamental difference between the two parties was immediately apparent. The republican’s site was dense and complicated and secretive with demands to sign petitions against various things and join up and give money. The comments section was very structured and feature what looked like the glowing blurbs you typically find in book jackets. “I couldn’t put it down!” “I laughed, I cried!” “An engaging read!” Republicans like their dealings with the unwashed masses to be carefully filtered and censored. No dissenting views, no questions need ever pierce the ignorance bubble of these neo-cons.

Poor, delicate creatures, can’t handle the slightest disagreement to their worldviews. Makes them uncomfortable and incoherent; makes them stammer a bit and then resort to saying, “I’ll pray for you.” And, seriously, when your argument boils down to “Ah, bible!” and “I’ll pray for you.” you’ve already lost.

The democrat’s site was simple and straightfoward, the comments’ section seems to be mostly positive but I did see a comment saying the commenter didn’t know what she stood for, so it’s probably only being moderated for hate-speech and viagra-spam. My comment to Fallin went into the ether, never to be seen again. But my comment to Askins was published to day I wrote it.

This November Oklahoma will elect its first woman governor. Democrat or republican, let’s hope she stands up for Oklahoma’s children, ALL of Oklahoma’s children.

Sorry, I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve lost track of who all I still owe emails to, but I think it’s nearly half a dozen people. Anyway, I also hope that it’s okay with you that I don’t add you as a friend for the time being. I first started on Facebook to keep up with extended family, and after a flurry of adding old acquaintances it started getting out of hand. (I’ve found that when one has too many friends it’s easy to miss the important information that’s buried among everyone’s Mafia Wars requests.) So I decided to limit my new FB friends to just people who are actively involved in my life. It’s much more manageable that way, and makes it less of a granfalloon.

I have enjoyed hearing from you over the past few years, and occasionally pop by your blog to see what’s up. It’s been nice to hear news of your family and school. If we continue to keep in touch I may reconsider down the road. I think you have my email address, which is (email redacted by me since I’m nice and shit.)

Unfortunately, I’m afraid I don’t have any news that you don’t already know. The more things change the more they stay the same here. I just work, hang out with my husband and my parents, and take care of my dog. Sometimes I get to travel, but mostly I work a lot of long hours.

I would like to hear from you, and hope you are well.

Best regards,

z

My, my, my, aren’t we just full of ourselves.

I’ve been thinking about these situations for a while and have come to the conclusion that, yes indeedy, I am the problem. Or rather, the much younger me is the problem. Seems I used to pick shitty friends. Not all of them were shitty, but these two definitely.

Seeing as how I have two new openings for friends I need to get on the ball.  Maybe I should conduct this like a job opening, take application and schedule interviews. Some things I’ve learned: liking the same fashions and music and nightclubs is not the best foundation for a lasting, meaningful, supportive friendship; and just because someone is smart and liberal doesn’t mean she is not an insufferable snob who will shake me off like the dirt from her boots the moment she takes a step into the larger world.

Harsh judgments? I don’t think so. Instead, I like to think of them as astute and intuitive. Perhaps if I had exercised better discernment back in the day, I would still have old friends.

Now I need some new ones, here in real life. Since gossiping across the back fence really isn’t a valid option these days, I’ll have to come up with something new. I’ll keep you updated.

The future cannot be reliably foretold because every moment requires decisions that continually alter that future. Multiverse Theory tells us that there are multiple, not just one, and possibly infinite, universes encompassing every possible future. In the present, though, the future is Schrodinger’s Cat, just a fog of possibilities until we open the box.

While I don’t think the future can be foretold, I do tend to fret about it. I’m a planner, a list-maker, I like to plan and enumerate everything. And the other side of that coin means that I am also a worrier. It seems like anxiety has been a constant companion for years. Thankfully I’m experiencing a bit of a reprieve from all of that because I’m on a beta-blocker now. I don’t feel anxious on a daily basis anymore, which is better for all of us.

But for some reason I’m feeling a kind of anticipation, not a foreboding as if something wicked this way comes. It is more a feeling of hopeful presentiment that something good is coming this way. There is a positive development, or new opportunity, or correct decision on the horizon.

Who knows what the future holds, but Schrodinger’s cat and I will let you know as soon as we open the box.

This particular rabbit hole appeared because I was looking up information about my blood type. I never bothered to find out my blood type until I started trying to get pregnant about 12 years ago. I had to have RhoGam shots with each pregnancy because I am Rh-negative. Several years later, in Microbiology lab, I found out I was O-negative.

Remembering something about blood types from an old “M*A*S*H” episode, I looked up O-negative blood type. In addition to finding out that I am a so-called universal donor (but not a universal recipient), I found out that my blood type influences my ideal diet and my personality! I scoffed at the diet recommendations and dismissed the personality stuff as pure bunk. But I was rather intrigued by the sixth entry Google gave me-this.

According to this dude on the internet my O-negative blood means much more than RhoGam shots and the Red Cross needing my services. Apparently my blood type indicates that I am descended from a race of super-advanced reptilians who secretly control the world. But then there’s this theory that rh-negative blood is a mutation from “normal” blood.

This is all very interesting but if I’m really descended from crypto-lizard overlords then I really must protest this shabby treatment! Where is my unimaginable wealth and power, huh? Why don’t I have fawning sycophants rubbing my feet and peeling my grapes? But no, I have to get my own grapes and earn my own money. And instead of adoring followers I have a nice husband who tells me I’m pretty and kids who sometimes decide to do what I tell them.

Of course there’s still that mutation-option. But I have to tell you that if I could pick the kind of mutant I was, I sure wouldn’t pick the type of mutation that causes painful shots and transfusion issues. No, I’d pick the kind that causes levitation, then I wouldn’t need anybody to rub my feet!

Maybe I’ll just call the Red Cross. They won’t peel me any grapes, but I understand I get to lay down and then they give me a cookie. It’s not ruling the world, but I guess it’ll just have to do.

Even though we work the same length shift, the others cringe at the thought of working so late. The time feels later, more onerous somehow. When your workday ends at 11:30p, it’s still the same calendar day. But time has always ticked over to the next day by the time I go home.

And superstition must not be left out of the equation. Ending a workday at the stroke of the witching hour can shake all but the sturdiest of souls. Even in this most technical of ages, when very few people truly believe in ghouls or witches or werewolves, most people choose not to be out and about when spirits roam the earth.

I love midnight, with its loneliness and dark connotations. Driving home that late makes me feel like I inhabit a rather empty world. Even the never-ending stream of traffic on the highway underpass takes on a not-quite-real quality.

On the nights when I stop at the grocery store on the way home, I’m extra nice to the graveyard-shifters and the other midnight shoppers. We are part of an odd minority. We choose this weird, nocturnal existence and we like it that way.

Some nights when I’m not working, I can’t keep my eyes open. I fall asleep by 10:00 pm, but then I wake up around 4:00 am and can’t go back to sleep. But most of the time I stay up late even on the nights when I could be sleeping.

I simply don’t understand those people who go to bed early and get up with the chickens. When do they do their thinking?!

It’s much easier to let my mind swim in the deep end in the dark stillness of the night. The clamor of daytime noises and light leaves little room and peace for a thoughtful soul. I will sacrifice sleep for peace and quiet any day.

So don’t pity me when I tell you my schedule, I like it this way.

Disregarding the various things that doctors and hospitals have to pay actual money for, like insurance and electric and i.v. bags, we are supposed to barter for medical care. And doctors also like to be paid so they can live in houses and drive cars and buy food.

But should Ms. Lowden’s inspired plan take root, have no fear. Some thoughtful soul has taken up the task of converting raw, live chicken value to various medical procedures. Please enjoy this medical chicken calculator as much as I have enjoyed it.

But seriously, what is wrong with these people?! If the mere thought of everybody–rich, poor, young, old, pretty, ugly, privileged, disadvantaged–finally being able to afford basic medical care offends you, then you need to re-examine your soul. Isn’t it funny that those who bleat the loudest about their love of Jesus follow His teachings the least?

I loved the fine print at the bottom, especially the warning not to let chickens drive you to the doctor, which only makes sense because chickens are stupid. If I were given the choice of livestock to do my driving, I’d definitely choose a goat, much smarter that chickens.