I Don't Like Politics

I just don't. I once thought politics was great fun to watch and fun to be involved in, but that was before my advanced age caught up with me and I realized life is too short to stir animosity over political policies that will A.) likely not be enacted as promised, and B.) will not significantly vary from one candidate or party to the other in the long run. Taunting and rivalries are fun in sports because that's an insignificant pass-time, but when it is your country and issues that affect the real lives of ordinary persons, there is no place for that sort of divisive and polarizing rhetoric. Because it's not a game; it's serious work.

That said, I have grown to despise the practice of parties nominating the guy (or gal) they think can beat the other side rather than nominating their best candidate. I lament to this day the fact the Democrats failed to nominate Lieberman the last time. We ought to hope they nominate their best, because if that person gets elected, whether we voted for them or not, we have to live with them for four years or more. And we will have to live with their policies even longer. (And those aren't actually even their policies, but are instead what policies get implemented based on compromise between them and Congress.) And the best candidate is not the person whose ideas are 180 degrees from the incumbent's ideas necessarily. Frankly, I don't care what their ideas are relative to the incumbent. I care about what they are relative to me. And I care about what they are relative to the idea of being a president for everyone and being able to work with a diverse group of representatives in Congress and governors in states.

I don't get a say in who runs for the Green Party or Libertarian Party, and the Republican I like best (McCain) will not need my help in Alabama. So, these things being how I feel, I will vote for Barack Obama next Tuesday. It's not just because I think Hillary Clinton is a living, breathing example of divisive rhetoric and politics as sport (just like George W. Bush is on the other side), but because I think he is simply better. I like his ideas better and I like his way of presenting his ideas better also. I like that he gets criticized for saying Reagan had a good way of communicating and rallying support from diverse groups. That attack is a classic example of what is wrong: You MUST ALWAYS demonize and vilify the other party, no matter what. I like that he calls bullshit on that approach, because if you want to hand out criticism as merited and have your criticism be heard and treated with respect, you must also be willing to hand out praise as merited. You don't have to hate the other side. You DO have to work with them.

Anyway, here is his rebuttal to the State of the Union Address last night. Never embedded a video before, so here is my virgin effort:

ESPN: The Fashion Edition

Guess who we're talking about when we read that he "walked with long strides and without a limp in his brown wingtips..." or that he "stood at the podium in a gray, pinstriped suit, and a crisp white shirt that was open at the collar. He had no overcoat but kept his hands in his pockets in the subfreezing temperatures..."

Fabio? George Clooney? Perhaps Tommy Hilfiger?

No, it was a different Tommy, of course: Tom Brady who was taking flight to go win another game this year. Nothing too significant, only the Super Bowl.

To my great amusement, these comments don't come from GQ or Entertainment Weekly or OK! They come from an ESPN article. Oh, I'm quite interested in what Tom Brady is or isn't wearing. In fact, the photographic evidence above clearly shows he was wearing three-of-five of my Five Instant Hottifiers for Men. I just feel slightly uncomfortable getting the information from ESPN.

Yes, I'm aware that the guys on my favorite network are a bunch of clothes horses, to put it mildly. The value of the neckties alone on any given NFL Sunday Countdown (or for that matter on The NFL Today on CBS or FOX NFL Sunday) is without question worth more than my entire wardrobe. And I know they pay attention to what guys like Tom Brady and Kobe Bryant wear in the post-game presser. Proof enough is Kirk Herbstreit wearing a wool newsboy cap on College GameDay not one week after Tom Brady wore one for his Monday Night Football interview. (Note to Herbie: You have the classic good looks of a 1940s cinematic hero. Put on a fedora and don't look back!) Frankly, I would not have been shocked if half of the ESPN crew had shown up in protective boots when Tom Brady was first spotted wearing his last Monday. I mean, such a boot projects a certain vulnerability while still conveying a determination to overcome. In other words, it is sure to attract chicks.

Truthfully, I appreciate the effort my sports guys go to in looking nice, but let's leave off commentary, shall we? Leave that sort of silliness to me.

Her Fruit

OK, here is a painting I did a while back. It's called "Her Fruit." It's a tree that is obviously in the shape of a woman and this tree is laden with fruit and no one is there to pick it up. The tree seems to be a little isolated, so maybe people just don't know about it. Or maybe they've avoided it.

You may look at this--and you are welcome to look at it any way you like--and think it's pretty crappy or juvenile or just goofy and that's OK. I don't really paint for anyone but myself. Everyone has something to offer and sometimes people like it and sometimes they don't. Sometimes even if they like it, they have had enough for now. The tree in the painting is profuse with fruit and maybe that is too much for some people to take. Or sometimes, people may look at the fruit you have to offer like it's a starfruit and it's just too strange for them and all they can say is, "Hmm," with their eyebrows knitted and their lips pursed like my mother's expression when I told her I wanted military boots for Christmas.

I get a lot of inspiration from Val's Art Diary, which is something I discovered about a year ago on youtube. I love Valentina! She's really charming and adorable and just a little kooky and silly, and I suppose I feel comfortable around people like that. I like her paintings also. They are usually full of color and texture and whimsical patterns like swirls and curlicues. Sometimes they are dark, though, and I know that feeling too. Anyway, she creates a little explanatory video about her paintings and posts the video every week. Here's a link to all her videos so far. I think of Valentina when I think of the fruits we all have to offer. You will find comments on her videos that are very critical, yes. But she also makes a living as an artist because of the people who appreciate her offerings and find them delicious.

Gat Dayum Independent

I got called a hippie again this week. Twice, in fact.

I don't mind. I just find it funny. One group of friends thinks I am wildly liberal and another group lists me as its token fascist. "Well, you're young and artsy and like to paint and write, so you're probably liberal, that's all," I was told. (Young?) My fascist label is also based on my youth, meaning stuff I believed 20 years ago with zero world experience, without any regard or even knowledge of what I believe NOW. And if I ask either group to mind its P's and Q's and talk nicely, I further their beliefs. The conservative bunch thinks it is an example of how I'm a bleeding heart, and the other group says I'm curtailing freedom of speech.

Over the years a person's politics will change. It's been said that if you aren't a liberal when you are young, you have no heart, and if you're not a conservative when you're older, you have no brain. I don't know what idiot said that, but they were wrong. Because a person can be both liberal and conservative simultaneously. I took a quiz this week too. It was supposed to tell you what candidate matches best with you. My top two, statistically tied, were Rudy Giuliani and Barak Obama.

A person is allowed to stand for things that are considered both liberal and conservative. You don't have to pick only one side. It's OK for me to think that gay people should get to be married too. It's OK for me to support government subsidized stem cell research. And at the same time, I can support the war in Iraq, believe in capital punishment and NOT hate rich people or want them taxed more.

And just like you are free not to, I don't have to make an excuse to anybody for what I think. I don't have to explain how I can believe all those things at the same time, unless I just want to remind people that I'm a card-carrying American. I am a God Damned Independent. I don't have to accept anyone's label, and I don't have to be ashamed of what I think. And neither do you. In return, I'll try not to label anyone else either.

PENIS

I am fascinated by the penis. I admit it. As if I couldn't think of it all the time, even if I didn't want to, the way men constantly draw your attention to it. It's as if men have their own little ("who you callin' little?") pagan god, right there in their crotch, and their life's goal is to honor and worship and please it.

You can dress yourself as a penis or you can dress your penis as something else. You can decorate it with tattoos or pointed gourds or beaded circlets. I suspect penis adornment was the first form of fashion design.

You don't see a woman naming her vagina, but men name their penises all the time. They refer to it as "he," and suggest it is a different person entirely. I suspect this might be because "he" has a mind of his own at times. I asked a fellow recently what it was like to have something attached to your body that just does as it pleases so often. He said you just get used to it. How? I've been accused of having sex on the brain nearly as bad as a man, but even if I do get a little tingle at midday, I'm not in danger of anyone knowing it or of putting out somebody's eye.

Men make jokes about their penises and those of others all the time. They joke it's too small or doesn't perform when they feel in a self-deprecatory mood. They joke that it's gigantic and should be labeled a WMD when they are feeling macho. They always joke that theirs is bigger than yours. Water sure is cold, the Bama fan said. Yep, and deep too said the Auburn fan. Do I need to tell the rest of the joke or do you remember it? But in secret, they all seem to worry that it isn't perfect or that it might fail. A woman never has to worry that her vagina wont work. We're always open for business, but can the customer make it into the shop? That's a man's ultimate fear.

The penis is simultaneously a man's most flaunted and most guarded of possessions. "See what I got right here, baby? Hey! Keep that elbow away from him!"

Friend and nemesis. Treasure and curse. It's no wonder men behave the way they do sometimes. They are always of two minds.

Dad

I had to take my father to the doctor today, and I was dreading it. Usually my sister takes him. This is because she understands him and gets along with him, and I don't and seldom do. My father and I never learned how to talk. For years, when I was a teenager, our communication consisted of hostile and confused glances or else we just used my mother as a go-between. Given my mother's flair for the dramatic, I realize now it probably only made matters worse.

But things are changing a bit. Now that he's started having memory lapses and acting a little goofy, we get along better. At least we did today, though the trip was not without its difficulties.

To begin, my mother, sister and father all called to make sure I hadn't forgotten. This added at least a half hour to my fixin' time because none of them can ask a simple question and then get the hell off the phone. Once fixed, I went to pick him up, causing a second minor controversy about what vehicle we were taking. Didn't I want to drive the van? No sir. If I'm driving, I prefer to drive my own car. Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I'm absolutely sure. Positive. Do you want me to drive the van? Because I will if that's what you need. No? Then we'll drive my car. Yes, I'm sure. Absolutely. Positive. Fine.

Once in the car, he pulled a Diet Sunkist out of one jacket pocket and a Diet Grapico out of the other. He complained that there was change in the cup holder, so I cleaned it out and he put the Grapico in the cup holder. He never opened it. On the way to the doctor's office he turned on the defogger when he thought I needed it and adjusted the rear view mirror until I couldn't see out of it. This behavior, incidentally, has nothing to do with his memory lapses. He's always been like this.

At the appointment, I asked if he needed me to go in with him. To help him remember what the doctor said. No. That's completely unnecessary, young lady! About 20 minutes later he came back out and began giving me a report on what the doctor said, which ended with the words, "I can't remember what all he told me."

Then we had lunch. He asked if I liked Captain D's. No. It's so greasy. Yes, I did used to like it, but not so much now. Yes, it has been a while since I had it. Yes, I am aware that you can choose from a number of delicious side items including corn-on-the-cob. Look, if you want to eat at Captain D's I can eat there. It's fine. No, don't get extra hush puppies. I don't want them. OK, get them. So we got extra hush puppies. They weren't eaten.

On the way home we stopped at WalMart. Daddy asked me if I needed to stop there, and I just said yes because I knew that meant he wanted to stop. So we did. We both spent about $10. He got something that will remain tied tightly inside the WalMart sack for months until it is forgotten (again, not new behavior), and I got some coat hangers and a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt.

All-in-all, it wasn't a bad day.

In over my head?

My son came home from church on Sunday and announced he is getting baptized this week. Since I am not religious, Scooter attends church with my mother. He enjoys it a lot, and I think he is enriched by it. Religious education is not a waste. I love learning about religions even though I don't practice one, so I don't mind Scooter getting some righteous training too, even if it is Baptist. In addition to this, he enjoys participating in the youth choir and the occasional play, and that is something he doesn't get in our small, rural school.

My only concern is his motivation. I asked him why he decided this week that he needed to be baptized. Was it something they discussed in Sunday School? No. Was it something the preacher talked about? No. He said it was because he was afraid of going to hell.

So now I'm not sure what to do. I am wide open to a million different religious paths for him, but I want him to make them out of a feeling of choice and not pressure. I want his experience to be one of honest joy, not fear of retribution. And while I respect Mom and agreed to let him attend church with her, I am his mother. I'm just not sure what to do about it.

Perhaps just another simple chat about it will clear it up and make me feel more assured he's making the choice for the right reasons. The last thing I want to do is to undermine his personal, spiritual choices, but I don't ever want him to do anything because he's afraid of some kind of almighty rejection, be it from God or man. I've made choices like that, and it is not the way to go.

Be It Hereby Resolved

I don't typically make a New Year's Resolution. I know myself well enough to know that my dedication and attention span are far too short to ever attach a long-term commitment to most things. Don't get me wrong. I can focus like a laser when I make up my mind. Oh look! A chicken!

Huh? Oh, right. My blog.

Take the guitar, for instance. I haven't done what I'd call real practice in a week. Granted, I've had some stuff to do. Holidays get in the way of a lot of things. Still, another week and I might forget about it completely. I really don't want that to happen. Again. But if you know a bookie who puts odds on such things...I'm just saying.

Like a lot of stuff, I like the idea that magic can make it happen. And then when it doesn't I can just say, "Well, fate was against me." It eases the pain of failure when you do that. Of course it's a lie, but that's a secondary concern.

I'm giving it some thought this year though. I want better. I deserve better too. I'm a nice person! My friend Sam says so, and he's a smart lawyer, so it must be true. But I do realize it can't come from magic. At least not from magic that isn't inside me. I have the power to command my destiny, just like you do. So I guess that's it then. I resolve to command my own destiny.

Oh look! A chicken!

(Just kidding!)

Happy New Year

Yeah, so I'm a day late. I was busy!

They say that what you do on New Year's Day will dictate what you do all year. If that's true, not bad.

Started the day by sleeping late. That would be nice to do most of the year, which means I'm pretty sure I will win the lottery in order to not have to work in order to sleep late most days.

Next, we had lunch at Mamaw's house. We had the traditional blackeyed peas and turnip greens (both said to ensure prosperity in the coming year), and enjoyed a nice visit. I take this as further proof of an impending nice visit from the Prize Patrol.

After that, we painted the living room while watching football games. Now let's say I win the lottery. I'd buy a new house right away, which means I'd be supervising a lot of painting. Not to mention that I'd have the gigantic plasma screen for watching football. Further evidence!

And also, did I mention I got laid at one point during the day? I'm not sure what that has to do with the lottery, but it's nice in any case.

The point of all of this is BIG THINGS IN 2008!

And speaking of big things in 2008, here is the text of my favorite recent SPAM email:

Cannot choose a New Year gift for your lady?

Be sure, she will appreciate it very much to discover
a super-size one-eyed python in your pants!

Only real men deserve success in this world!
Become a successful man with a long and thick stick in year 2008!

Hey, here's hoping we all have much success in 2008, python or not.