Fashion Ramblings and Politics
Today I wore to work a black shirt that kind of wrapped around, a knee-length swingy black skirt, black tights, and sensibly-heeled black shoes. I mention this because, as I walked in the door, it occurred to me that I looked like a novitiate in a particularly trendy order. The Oblates of St. Michael Kors, perhaps.
I want to blog about the Terri Schiavo thing, but I really can't trust myself to stay coherent about it. Remember when I said that I wanted to believe that "the country has survived through much, much worse . . . and that there's really no way that this current band of smug bastards can do lasting damage to the idea of America. Except I'm not sure I really believe that"?
The president rushed back to Washington to address the Terri Schiavo case. The man who couldn't be arsed to interrupt his vacation when a tsunami wiped out 150,000 people sped back to DC in all haste to insert himself into a case that the courts had already ruled on to the highest level. You might, if you were uncharitable, think that the fact that Terri Schiavo is a middle-class white Christian American as opposed to a brown third-worlder has something to do with the President's travel plans. I disagree--I don't think George W. Bush is principled enough to be racist.
Let us be honest and clear about one thing: this man and his asshat cronies on the hill do not care one whit for the life and happiness of Terri Schiavo. They do not care about the private tragedy of the Schindler and Schiavo families. They do not care about the complexities of her diagnosis or the realities of persistent vegetative states. They do not care about what her wishes were or were not in regards to extraordinary health care measures.
Terri Schiavo is not a person to them, in any way at all that matters. She is a political football.
The behavior of our lawmakers, from the callous Republicans who are exploiting this tragedy to the callow Democrats who are letting them, is shameful. By crossing branches of government, by overstepping the checks and balances of our Constitution, these people have shown a gross contempt for the very founding principles of our nation.
I do think that the current administration can do a kind of lasting damage to this nation. I do think that they are dangerous and destructive. And if you don't think so, you are fooling yourself.
1 comment:
I LIKE MONKEYS
I like monkeys.
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that
odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to
look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His
name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really
bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed.
Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at
high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the
spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive:
they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead.
Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn
cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over
my
room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked
like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked
for
a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell
real
bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't
want
to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately
there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer
so
it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had
to
extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys
in
my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The
odor
wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use
the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet
one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about
the
frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts.
My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like
them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in
the genitals.
I like monkeys
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