This morning, one of my former students posted on Facebook about House bill 2692, dubbed the "Save America's Pollinators Act." The link she posted sent me to the Center for Food Safety, whereupon I filled out a little form that sent a letter to Representative Paul Broun asking that he support this act. I'm not sure why Paul Broun was sent the letter; I'm assuming it's because he was first alphabetically for our state. However, I have a few issues with this:
A: The safety and security of our food supply is important to me. I understand that honey bees are not native pollinators and so if we wanted to go back to native foods for our country, we MIGHT be okay if we were down with eating beans, corn, squash, and assorted berries, fruits, and nuts. However, the chemicals that this bill targets are most likely responsible for the death of other pollinators, including bumble bees, which are native and...y'all...we can't have FOOD without pollinators. Ask yourself how many honeybees you've seen this year. Yeah. Might want to consider supporting this bill.
B. Paul Broun is not technically my representative in the House of Representatives. He is, technically, about as far away from me politically and ideologically as possible. Honestly, I can't think of many politicians who are farther away from me politically and ideologically. Sarah Palin? Vladimir Putin? This guy is on the House Committee of Science, Space, and Technology and believes that some fairly widely accepted scientific principals are, and I'm quoting here, "...straight from the Pit of Hell." Ahem.
C. My representative is Austin Scott, and it would seem that contacting him would be the smart thing to do.
The Center for Food Safety has a place where you can add emails to which you send the info about HR 2692, so I betoodled over to Rep. Scott's website to get the info. First, I had to google the info about where to find his site. Then I had to actually go to his site, where I hoped I would find the info. But...no. Instead, I found a little sign up thingy where I could get alerts from Rep. Scott. Now, I'm not trying to be ugly, but I've already gotten snail mail alerts from Rep. Scott, most which are...um...fairly anti-my president and the Democrats in Congress (and, thus, fairly anti-me.) So I wasn't really down with getting alerts from him in my email box which would just be more of the same. BUT, Rep. Scott is the chairman of the Subcommittee on Horticulture, Research, Biotechnology, and Foreign Agriculture ("foreign" being misspelled on his website...sigh) AND he's my technical representative in the House, so I decided that if it meant I could get his email address this way, that I would go ahead and sign up for email alerts. So I did.
At that point in time, I figured I'd get an email saying, "Thanks for contacting me, here's the stuff the president's doing that's awful, blah blah blah." No. So then I searched around on his site for some info about how to contact him via email (to be fair, his phone number and snail mail address are posted on the site, but I just needed his email, thanks) and found ANOTHER little thingy where I entered my name and zip code to make sure I was in his district. But because I'm in such a HUMONGOUS district, I needed the four-digit code that designated which part of the district I was in. BUT, I didn't know that code. BUT, it was okay because there was a link to a place where I could find the code. Yay! BUT...the file was not found, y'all.
Argh. So then I went over to Rep. Austin Scott's Facebook page, because maybe there was some info there. No. There WAS, however, a big "Anti-Obamacare/anti big business" meme. Which, you know, awesome. But I liked the page, anyway, hoping that it would allow me, somehow to see an email address or be able to sent Rep. Scott a message, but no dice. Bleah.
Feeling a twee twitchy, I decided to find out what kind of "big business" Rep. Scott is against, because that's the kind of thing, apparently, that Tea Party Republicans are pushing--that the president is snuggled up with big business and is awful because of it. It's obvious that Americans are sick of big businesses controlling so much of our country, so the TPRs are exploiting this. I don't blame them.
There's only one problem with this for Rep. Scott, as far as I can see. In April, he was part of a bipartisan group of representatives who cosponsored the Pest Free Food Supply Act, which would force the EPA to withdraw a two-year-old order regarding sulphuryl flouride as a fumigant. (This is how slowly your giant, lumbering government works, y'all.) The PFFS Act is in committee right now (of course), but it might interest you to know that it is supported by Dow AgroSciences, which is the maker of, you guessed it, Imiden, which is a neonicotinoid insecticide, which is the type of insecticide targeted by the Save America's Pollinators Act. Dow, which owns Dow AgroSciences, made 57 billion dollars in 2012 and employs about 53,000 people. Tangled web, much?
To be fair, very few of the representatives from Georgia share their email addresses with the general public. And all of them have the enter your zip code and four number extension link which DOESN'T work, including a message that says that they won't be able to contact you and you won't be able to contact them unless you are from their district and/or know the four digit code.
Y'all, seriously, are you fricking kidding me? I hire somebody (or, you know, somebody is hired against my wishes) to represent me in Congress and I can't get in touch with this person because I don't know a few numbers? I have to go to nine million websites in order to find out the basic contact information, only to find that I don't have the basic info or the info is wrong or unfindable and that the folks that represent a district no more than fifty miles away from me just can't be in contact with me, because they apparently are too busy dealing with their own constituents, but honestly I don't believe that because it's nearly impossible to find the information in the first place.
Pant! Pant! Gasp! Wheeze!
Anyway, I'll be calling Rep. Scott's offices right quick, and sending a real letter because this important to me. I encourage you to figure out how in the world you can contact whoever it is that represents you in the federal government and do the same. If you need any moral support in what I am pretty sure will be a frustrating venture.
Here's the link to the Center for Food Safety's site about the Save America's Pollinators Act: http://salsa3.salsalabs.com/o/1881/p/dia/action3/common/public/?action_KEY=11547 and here's the link where you're supposed to be able to find your representative: https://house.gov/representatives/
Go save the world, sweetie.
EDITED TO ADD:
I found the number to Rep. Scott's Warner Robins' office and spoke to a very nice man named Earl who put me through to Rep. Scott's DC office. I told the young man who answered there that I'd like Rep. Scott to support the Save America's Pollinators Act and also reported the issue with the district zip code number thingy. He, in turn, gave me an email address through which I could contact Rep. Scott about the act. However, when I requested that I share the address on Facebook so any of y'all who want to contact Rep. Scott about this can do so, I was told that the best way for you to do this was, instead, to go to the website and fill in the information so you can get his email. When I pointed out that this function was broken, the poor guy laughed and said, "Yeah, but that's the best way..." and then he mumbled something about getting the problem fixed. TRANSPARENCY IN TEH GOVERNMENT, Y'ALL.
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
A New Theory and an Informational Supplement
I have been absent for a loooooonnnng time because A of all: I've been hellabusy. Like, "What do you mean, Will, you want me to clean the kitchen? I have to edit pictures, design marketing layouts, email clients, wash laundry, wipe Jeffrey's allergy laden-nose, plant seeds, clean out the car..." busy.
And, also, a lot of what I want to say falls into the religious/political/philosophical spectrum and as a good chunk of people who I want to pay me money to take their pictures don't share my beliefs about...um...anything, it seemed a good idea not to say anything. I find it distasteful to use one's religious or political beliefs to GAIN business, but that doesn't mean that I don't recognize that, for many, it's a good marketing strategy.
HOWEVER, today on Facebook I was involved in a political conversation that was so dumb that it almost killed me. Like, literally, y'all, I almost died right here on the couch because a giant wave of dumb almost sent me into the abyss. I clawed my way back toward the light and as I lay trying to catch my breath I realized a simple truth, a truth so stunning and devoid of political or religious leanings that I knew I had to share it with you.
Are you ready? Ready for the TRUTH?
Are you sure? It's...pretty profound.
Okay, here goes:
The idiots are ruining everything.
I KNOW!!
Now, you have to understand, I'm not talking about conservative idiots or liberal idiots or Christian idiots or Pagan idiots or black idiots or white idiots, I'm talking about the giant, air-sucking army of idiots that trample all over good sense and decency and logic and pretty much eat our brains...
OH MA GAWD, Y'ALL.
They aren't just idiots, they are, like, ZOMBIE idiots. We are on the cusp of a Zombie Idiot Apocalypse. And Idiotaclypse, if you will.
It's already started. You can see it in our government's slow grind to absolute irrelevance as they fail in TWO YEARS to come up with a way to stop the defunding of food and education and transportation programs, but somehow manage to--the day after these programs are defunded--introduce $500 million legislation that would provide abstinence-centered sex ed programs to teens and NOBODY STORMED THE CAPITOL.
You see it in the fact that in four years of governance, the president has introduced four budgets and only ONE has been passed, mainly because Democrats are afraid of being seen as spenders and Republicans are afraid of pissing off rich business people. And so they divert the attention of the idiots to things like "the President stopped White House tours" or "Mitt Romney strapped his dog to the top of the car," which are, you know, awful and everything ,but not in any way a burden on the average American citizen. The Supreme Court, meanwhile, ruled that corporations are people. That took them a year and a half to figure out. It's taken the Court a decade (or more) to get around to addressing marriage equality, an issue which affects MILLIONS of Americans.
You can see it in the fact that Sarah Palin got up in front of millions of people (via TV and interwebs) and made fun of the president using a teleprompter whilst using a teleprompter herself AND compared Washington to reality television after starring in two failed reality programs herself and the entire country isn't saying, "Gah, woman, go back to Alaska and try to spot Russia."
You can see it in the fact that there is going to be a reality television show in which celebrities learn to high dive. OMG, companies are paying millions of dollars in advertising fees so we can watch Rudy Huxtable jump into a pool. WHAT THE HELL???? (And I just discovered that Fox actually came up with this idea a year ago. I...WHAT THE HELL???)
Idiocy is like a virus, y'all. And we have to stamp it out. I'm not sure the best way to do it. I lean heavily toward isolation on remote islands for the idiots, but the bleeding heart in me is always thinking that they can be rehabbed somehow. If you have any ideas, let me know.
In the meantime, I've come up with a handy-dandy list to help you spot the signs. It's short and sweet, much like me before I got involved in the dumb conversation this morning. Feel free to make copies and distribute to your friemily, perhaps noting in somber tones that "Only you can prevent the Idiotaclypse."
SIGNS YOU ARE DEALING WITH AN IDIOT
And, also, a lot of what I want to say falls into the religious/political/philosophical spectrum and as a good chunk of people who I want to pay me money to take their pictures don't share my beliefs about...um...anything, it seemed a good idea not to say anything. I find it distasteful to use one's religious or political beliefs to GAIN business, but that doesn't mean that I don't recognize that, for many, it's a good marketing strategy.
HOWEVER, today on Facebook I was involved in a political conversation that was so dumb that it almost killed me. Like, literally, y'all, I almost died right here on the couch because a giant wave of dumb almost sent me into the abyss. I clawed my way back toward the light and as I lay trying to catch my breath I realized a simple truth, a truth so stunning and devoid of political or religious leanings that I knew I had to share it with you.
Are you ready? Ready for the TRUTH?
Are you sure? It's...pretty profound.
Okay, here goes:
The idiots are ruining everything.
I KNOW!!
Now, you have to understand, I'm not talking about conservative idiots or liberal idiots or Christian idiots or Pagan idiots or black idiots or white idiots, I'm talking about the giant, air-sucking army of idiots that trample all over good sense and decency and logic and pretty much eat our brains...
OH MA GAWD, Y'ALL.
They aren't just idiots, they are, like, ZOMBIE idiots. We are on the cusp of a Zombie Idiot Apocalypse. And Idiotaclypse, if you will.
It's already started. You can see it in our government's slow grind to absolute irrelevance as they fail in TWO YEARS to come up with a way to stop the defunding of food and education and transportation programs, but somehow manage to--the day after these programs are defunded--introduce $500 million legislation that would provide abstinence-centered sex ed programs to teens and NOBODY STORMED THE CAPITOL.
You see it in the fact that in four years of governance, the president has introduced four budgets and only ONE has been passed, mainly because Democrats are afraid of being seen as spenders and Republicans are afraid of pissing off rich business people. And so they divert the attention of the idiots to things like "the President stopped White House tours" or "Mitt Romney strapped his dog to the top of the car," which are, you know, awful and everything ,but not in any way a burden on the average American citizen. The Supreme Court, meanwhile, ruled that corporations are people. That took them a year and a half to figure out. It's taken the Court a decade (or more) to get around to addressing marriage equality, an issue which affects MILLIONS of Americans.
You can see it in the fact that Sarah Palin got up in front of millions of people (via TV and interwebs) and made fun of the president using a teleprompter whilst using a teleprompter herself AND compared Washington to reality television after starring in two failed reality programs herself and the entire country isn't saying, "Gah, woman, go back to Alaska and try to spot Russia."
You can see it in the fact that there is going to be a reality television show in which celebrities learn to high dive. OMG, companies are paying millions of dollars in advertising fees so we can watch Rudy Huxtable jump into a pool. WHAT THE HELL???? (And I just discovered that Fox actually came up with this idea a year ago. I...WHAT THE HELL???)
Idiocy is like a virus, y'all. And we have to stamp it out. I'm not sure the best way to do it. I lean heavily toward isolation on remote islands for the idiots, but the bleeding heart in me is always thinking that they can be rehabbed somehow. If you have any ideas, let me know.
In the meantime, I've come up with a handy-dandy list to help you spot the signs. It's short and sweet, much like me before I got involved in the dumb conversation this morning. Feel free to make copies and distribute to your friemily, perhaps noting in somber tones that "Only you can prevent the Idiotaclypse."
SIGNS YOU ARE DEALING WITH AN IDIOT
- The infected individual chunks people into a group and derides said group, often (ironically) commenting on lack of intelligence. Only an idiot would assume that ALL of any group believe or act the same way. To be sure, one is comfortable in a group because one finds people in that group who share one's interests or basic beliefs. But that doesn't mean that everybody in the group has the same background, education level, romantic life, et cetera. Even a group with narrowed purposes is comprised of people with varying experiences that lead them to have different opinions. For example, people who love Joss Whedon and his handling of The Avengers might wonder why Nathan Fillion, who is clearly one of the yummiest members of the Whedon gang, doesn't have a role in that movie. But SOME of the Joss-Whedon-The-Avengers fans might not like Nathan Fillion and were happy not to have his impish charm grace the big screen again. (Clearly, these people are not my people. I don't actually KNOW that these people are idiots, but I have my suspicions.) My point is, assuming that somebody who calls themselves X must also believe 1, 2, and 3 is idiotic and leads to communication breakdowns and frustrations. Not all conservatives love Sarah Palin. Not all liberals love Michael Moore. Not all gun owners are Republicans. Not all Christians go to church. Not all Democrats are pro-choice. Not all reality television watchers think that clearly what we need is another reality show based upon miserably unhappy rich women. I hope. Dear heavens, I hope.
- The infected individual refuses to participate in discussions. Here's how a discussion works: Hilda says, "I think this." Bartholemew says, "I disagree." Hilda says, "I think this because of A, B, and C." Bartholemew says, "Interesting. Did you know that A was refuted by researchers at the University of Wichita in 2008?" Hilda says, "No, I didn't. That's frustrating. But C is just my gut feeling, and I trust in that." Bartholemew says, "I understand. I don't agree with you, but I respect that opinion. Can you tell me why you think you might feel this way?" And it goes on and on, leading to, at the very least, a pleasant goodbye and stronger belief in one's own ideas. At best, we get a balanced budget AND gay marriage all at the same time. Idiots cannot manage this. A "discussion" with an idiot looks a lot like this: Hilda says, "I think this." Bartholemew says, "You are so ignorant." Hilda says, "Um. Why do you think that?" Bartholemew says, "The turnips on the back of the wagon are always more purple than the ones on the front." Hilda says, "Actually, in 2011, researchers at the University of Witchita proved that to be false." Bartholemew says, "I lick tartar sauce off my plate!" Hilda says, "Wait. What?" Bartholemew says, "And you know that the rabbits in Botswana want you to think that. You're such a sheep." Hilda says, "But...the researchers at the University of Witchita?" Bartholemew says, "The government pays off those researchers. Get your own damn tartar sauce." And then Hilda is swept into the abyss. Poor Hilda.
- The infected individual cites various websites, blogs, or internet memes to prove his or her point, even when the websites, blogs, or internet memes are proven decades old or just flat out lies. Moreover, if presented with evidence that is contrary to their "evidence," the idiots will do one of two things. A: question (ironically) your intelligence, often declaring that you don't read "history." Or B: call you a sheep. One begins to wonder if idiots actually know what sheep are. I'm starting to believe that they think that sheep are, you know, monsters. Or demons. Or people who are so desperate to believe something that they'll cling to unsubstantiated evidence to uphold their belief. Which, pretty much, makes them not sheep, as from a biological and physiological standpoint, sheep don't do a lot of clinging or believing. They do, however, follow the sheep around them, which is exactly what the idiot who reposts a chain email claiming that the pope said, "Women are stupid and stink" does. IT'S A VICIOUS, IDIOTIC CIRCLE, Y'ALL. (Extra idiot points to the idiot who posts something inflammatory and ridiculous on Facebook and says, "I don't know if this is true, but...." Just...hush, you poor idiot. I'll get a cloth for your head.) Websites, blogs, and internet memes are FINE justifications for your thought processes, provided that they are well-researched and backed up with verifiable facts. If they aren't well-researched and backed up with verifiable facts, they are...I don't know. A waste of interwebby space. Or...wait. Waiaaaaait. Maybe the un-researched, not backed up memes and emails are the actual CARRIERS of idiocy, the method by which the virus spreads. Does...does this mean we need to turn off our computers or risk infection?
I'm pretty sure it does.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
One Big Happy Family
So, I was watching the first presidential debate and yelling at the TV at various times because, you know, Jim Lehrer just kept fricking SITTING there letting Mitt gnaw on the microphones and talk over the top of the President of the United States. Not that I was bitter.
Nooooo, ma'am.
What got me bitter was when Mitt Romney, when REFERENCING THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES, said that we were a nation who believed we were all children of the same god.
Children. Of. The. Same. God.
The same one.
The. Same.
Lawsamercy, Mitt Romney, you are trying to make me call you ugly names and I'm trying not to do that for the next few weeks.
Let me explain something to you, Mitt. It's going to be hard for you to understand, because your experiences are so insulated by your birthrights of wealth and faith.
This nation doesn't believe we are all children of the same god. A healthy portion of us don't believe that we are children of any god whatsoever. Some of us believe we are the children of several gods. Or that the gods didn't actually, you know, mean to be our parental figures. Or that spirituality doesn't have to include gods. With respect, a big chunk of this nation doesn't think that YOU are a child of God at all because your Heavenly Father has a wife, dude.
I mean, I get it. I know what you were trying to do. What with that pesky economy and health care you had to keep discussing, you couldn't bring up any of the religion-soaked fear points that your party has coasted on for the last decade or so. You had to bring up God somewhere so that tomorrow morning, conservative pundits could harp on the fact that the president didn't and that means he's removing God from America because he's a Muslim (same God, by the way, Mitt...look it up...) and a communist and Ayn Rand (the atheist) hates him.
But did you HAVE to do it while talking about the document that states that the Federal government can't make laws that establish a religion? Did you HAVE to do it in the same sound byte during which you talked about the pursuit of happiness that, for you, apparently is all about income and not about equal protection under law? Because your god (or at least, your interpretation of your god) isn't really big on a lot of people I love pursuing happiness--and I'm framing "happiness" as "enjoying equal protection under law."
With whatever respect your place in history has allowed that I give to you, Mr. Romney, let me just go ahead and say that you and I are not spiritual kin. Like, at all. We are not a part of some big family of God-believers that just had a family reunion. That wasn't a family reunion, Mr. Romney. It was a presidential debate. If elected, you will be president of a whole bunch of people who think you are a weirdo for your spiritual beliefs and you will still have to serve their best interests.
THAT is the problem with you, Mitt Romney. You don't seem to get it. You can't lump us all together in the tidy little boxes that suit your political needs. You can't assert that we're a nation that believes we're all children of the same god while talking about the Constitution a few days after it came out that you pretty much believed that half of our country isn't worth your time and effort. Because that would mean that you think that half of your spiritual brothers and sisters were NOT YOUR PROBLEM. And I'm sorry, but I know enough about the theologies of most of the faiths around that this is directly against the teachings of those faiths.
The Golden Rule, Mitt. You probably need to look that one up, too.
Just a little sisterly advice.
Nooooo, ma'am.
What got me bitter was when Mitt Romney, when REFERENCING THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES, said that we were a nation who believed we were all children of the same god.
Children. Of. The. Same. God.
The same one.
The. Same.
Lawsamercy, Mitt Romney, you are trying to make me call you ugly names and I'm trying not to do that for the next few weeks.
Let me explain something to you, Mitt. It's going to be hard for you to understand, because your experiences are so insulated by your birthrights of wealth and faith.
This nation doesn't believe we are all children of the same god. A healthy portion of us don't believe that we are children of any god whatsoever. Some of us believe we are the children of several gods. Or that the gods didn't actually, you know, mean to be our parental figures. Or that spirituality doesn't have to include gods. With respect, a big chunk of this nation doesn't think that YOU are a child of God at all because your Heavenly Father has a wife, dude.
I mean, I get it. I know what you were trying to do. What with that pesky economy and health care you had to keep discussing, you couldn't bring up any of the religion-soaked fear points that your party has coasted on for the last decade or so. You had to bring up God somewhere so that tomorrow morning, conservative pundits could harp on the fact that the president didn't and that means he's removing God from America because he's a Muslim (same God, by the way, Mitt...look it up...) and a communist and Ayn Rand (the atheist) hates him.
But did you HAVE to do it while talking about the document that states that the Federal government can't make laws that establish a religion? Did you HAVE to do it in the same sound byte during which you talked about the pursuit of happiness that, for you, apparently is all about income and not about equal protection under law? Because your god (or at least, your interpretation of your god) isn't really big on a lot of people I love pursuing happiness--and I'm framing "happiness" as "enjoying equal protection under law."
With whatever respect your place in history has allowed that I give to you, Mr. Romney, let me just go ahead and say that you and I are not spiritual kin. Like, at all. We are not a part of some big family of God-believers that just had a family reunion. That wasn't a family reunion, Mr. Romney. It was a presidential debate. If elected, you will be president of a whole bunch of people who think you are a weirdo for your spiritual beliefs and you will still have to serve their best interests.
THAT is the problem with you, Mitt Romney. You don't seem to get it. You can't lump us all together in the tidy little boxes that suit your political needs. You can't assert that we're a nation that believes we're all children of the same god while talking about the Constitution a few days after it came out that you pretty much believed that half of our country isn't worth your time and effort. Because that would mean that you think that half of your spiritual brothers and sisters were NOT YOUR PROBLEM. And I'm sorry, but I know enough about the theologies of most of the faiths around that this is directly against the teachings of those faiths.
The Golden Rule, Mitt. You probably need to look that one up, too.
Just a little sisterly advice.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Another OWS Post: It's Not Fair
Yesterday morning, I read an article of the "Occupy Wall Street has gone GLOBAL" variety. You know the kind: the reporter is all giddy and full of progressive glee that this movement is rocking the planet. Are you sensing a bit of disdain? I'm feeling a bit of disdain. It comes with being a moderate who doesn't approve of anybody going off half-cocked. Let me explain:
In the article, a young man from Toronto (I'm assuming Canada) said something like, "I'm starting off my adulthood in debt. That's not fair."
Not fair. Not fair? Not. Fair.
Hmmm...
Now, I'm assuming this young man was referring to the fact that he was in debt with student loans, as the fact that student loans are one of the big problems some of the OWSs. As a person in massive debt with student loans, I can sympathize. The student loan system is insane, really. The government lends you money then sells your loan to a bank who charges you a nutso amount of interest and you wind up paying double what you borrowed in the first place. The very idea that the government makes money in order to saddle citizens with debt is brain-exploding, as is the fact that an state-provided education in our country costs so much money.
BUT. But.
Unfair? Unfair in what context? If OWS has gone global and we're now looking at it as a world issue, the fact that somebody has a college education is not a basis for any sort of "unfair" argument. "Fair" pretty much means "everybody has an equal amount," and as we're living in a world in which vast swaths of some countries' populations not only don't have access to primary education, they also don't have things like clean water or adequate health care, the "it's not fair that I have to pay for my education" argument falls flat.
Additionally, I deny the idea that education is some sort of right that human beings have. Maybe I'm wrong, but people don't get educated in a vacuum: somebody has to provide them with the knowledge. And while I understand that our education system is overpriced (student fees are RIDICULOUS and you often pay for things that you never partake of, like student parking if you don't have a car or sports facilities if you don't attend any games), the professors, police officers, janitors, cafeteria workers who provide knowledge, safety, cleanliness, and...you know...food have to be paid somehow. And, frankly, our states can't manage to maintain roads with our taxes, much less pay for every citizen to be educated.
And I'm not trying to be an ass here, but I know very well how a lot of those federal student aid funds get spent. I went to a BIG state school where a lot of students received aid. I don't know ANYBODY who spent those funds solely on educational purposes. Sure, we paid tuition and bought our books, but when we were through with that, it wasn't uncommon to throw a party or go on a trip. We spent that money eating out, buying beer, or decorating our roommate's bedroom door because it was her birthday. And this is the norm. It's considered a right that you get to spend your federal financial aid on ways that have nothing to do with your education and everything to do with a lifestyle that includes lots of laughing and yelling and having fun. Which is awesome, but a little priority-skewed.
THAT'S part of the problem: somehow, in America, we have come to believe that as citizens, we should be able to do what we want with money that ISN'T ours. If you can't afford a college education and you want one, you have to borrow money. It's the same as buying a house or a car and thank goodness (maybe) we have a system that allows us to borrow that money. But you have to pay it back. If you buy a shirt at the store, you have to pay for it. It's a product; and so is an education.
I SUPPOSE it could be argued that the system is set up so that only the wealthy can have an education without debt and while I understand the frustration there (it would be NICE not to have so much debt), what is the alternative? Force the wealthy not to be wealthy anymore? Make the state pay for everybody's education? (I can't even imagine what my state government would come up with and the federal government is ear-deep in debt, so let's get real.) If a free education won't work logically and you can't afford a college education, how do you propose to get one without going into debt?
Now, answer to me is fairly simple. First of all, you don't charge interest on student debt. Or, at the very least, you charge less. My interest means that I will be paying for the college education I don't use in my professional life until well after my kids are in college. That strikes me as insane, although I suppose I could look at the interest as the "beer penalty" I'm paying for making my fellow citizens fund my partying.
Second, you require those students who are borrowing money to WORK for it. A few shifts at the library or cafeteria or cleaning up after football games isn't going to kill anybody, nor will it take away from the studying any more than federally-funded fun will. (Not all students party like I did, but I literally didn't know anybody--and continue not to know anybody--who spent financial aid solely on education.) If there aren't enough paying jobs, that's okay. Volunteering in the community lessens the burden on the government, you know.
(Ironically, the same folks who argue against more taxes and being conservative with federal aid also rail against volunteerism in this model. It makes my brain hurt.)
It is at times like these that I really with the OWS folks would get some leadership and a central voice. Not because I want folks like the dude in Toronto silenced, but because bitching about having an education (debt-free or not) makes these guys look ridiculous to me. Yes, I understand: being in debt sucks. And even the most socially conservative among us should be able to agree that the interest charged by big banks on financial aid is wrong (given Jesus' hissy fit with the money lenders.) And it really stinks to have borrowed money for an education that isn't getting you a job, so you're saddled with this debt and interest without being able to pay for it.
BUT
OWSers need to be able to say more than "it isn't fair." Because it isn't that it isn't fair. It's that it's wrong. Or illogical. Or inefficient. OWSers need to be able to offer a solution to fix the problem in a way that IS fair to all involved, not just complain about the system.
Otherwise, it seems like a big waste of time to me. And I don't need a college education that I'm still paying for to see that.
Edited to add: Dear Blogger, please post my blogs when I write them. Mkay. Bye.
Edited to add: Dear Blogger, please post my blogs when I write them. Mkay. Bye.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Gardening in the Post 9/11 World
Yesterday, we spent most of the day outside, removing the old box beds and tilling up the garden and planting broccoli and cauliflower and lettuce and spinach and soybeans and cabbage for the Fall and Winter. (Yes, I know I'm not supposed to capitalize those words. Bite me, Grammar Police. Fall and Winter NEED to be capitalized after this summer. See what I did there?)
Occasionally, during breaks, I would check on Facebook, where I read (over and over again) about tears and prayers and mourning. I also read a few posts about how religion caused the attacks on September 11, 2001, and one, inexplicably, about how if you didn't like that America was "one nation under God," you should leave. Sigh.
Let me go ahead and say that you should follow your bliss (or sadness, as it were) and mourn or reflect or remember any way you want to and that these next few paragraphs are not in any way telling you that you are wrong for feeling or expressing your feelings any way you want to. Unless you do something crazy and, like, make a bonfire with a pile of Girl Scout Thin Mints. I mean, that's just wrong.
That said, it seems to me that if the best that Americans can do is think of 9/11 as a day when it all went wrong, or focus on all of the dead people, or even focus only on the actions of the heroic men and women who died that day being heroes...well...that sort of seems wrong, to me. (ONLY TO ME. IF YOU DO ANY OF THE ABOVE, ROCK ON.) Here's why:
America didn't end that day. It didn't really even change that much. I got up the next day and went to work. Millions of other Americans did, too. The markets rebounded, the crops came in, the language stayed the same. We have religious freedom. We have Facebook and iPods and clean water. The one thing that did change, maybe, was that for a week or two, we were a united nation. We understood, for a ridiculously short time, that we were all Americans and--on a global scale--all humans and for Pete's sake, life is damn precious, no matter what nationality or religion you claim.
NOW we've changed drastically. We are such a changed country right now that I'll admit I'm much more fearful than I ever was on September 11. But I'm afraid not of foreign men in hijacked airplanes. I'm afraid of men in snazzy suits who hold gigantic prayer fests while fire fighters in his state buy their own fuel and gear. I'm afraid of women who want to lower minimum wage to that of our "competition" in third world countries. I'm afraid of my fellow citizens who go on and on about how repressed they are by our president even as they want to remove anybody who isn't Christian from public office--or, you know, from the country. Those folks scare the shit out of me, y'all.
So, yesterday, I wasn't watching any memorials or changing my FB picture to an American flag, or scanning in the pictures I took of the Manhattan skyline from the Statue of Liberty while on a show choir trip in high school. I wasn't finding quotes about freedom or heroism or liberty or justice. I wasn't crying and/or reminiscing. I was planting.
Crouched over the dirt, tugging River away from the delicate seedlings or whatever roly poly she was stalking, I made preparations for the winter. I pulled weeds and tucked seeds into the dry soil, adding a little prayer to every wish. That's what seeds are, you know. Wishes for the future. And as I sweated under the late afternoon sun, I started thinking about the seeds I scattered and the young plants I stuffed into rows.
Autumn crops are all the same here in the south: strong smelling greens and vibrant roots. Their seeds are similar: tiny little spears or earth-colored balls, impossible to find if you lose track over the rows. They grow in adverse conditions, fighting through the last gasping days of summer to flourish in the cool, wind-tossed Autumn. They'll keep going, some of them, even in the frigid days of late January and early February, before giving way to sweet peas and potatoes.
It wasn't a difficult metaphor to find, really. And on a cosmic scale, I'm not sure it IS a metaphor. We're all little seeds. We contain within our bodies the capability to grow and change and produce. We are planted where we are planted for a purpose. Each of us has a place and responsibility. We are Something's hope for the future.
But we're more than that. We aren't just mindless collards squatting in the garden. We have hearts and minds and souls that we all too often use for hurting our fellowcollards people instead of helping the others around us grow to their full potential.
This morning, two woman pretty much attacked my mother on FB for having the audacity to point out that the president read a Bible verse at a memorial service and that perhaps we ought to come together as Americans. One woman pointed out that Satan quoted Bible verses, too. ("Satan's in Washington." Give yourself a high five if you remember Marlena writhing around in her silky pajamas and panty hose.) The other called my mother "repressive," and unloaded a wad of nastiness on her that brought out the North Georgia hill girl in me. I was HET UP, y'all.
Because my mama, she is a planter of seeds. She is Little Mary Sunshine. She is a laugher and dancer and smiler. In the face of a year that would CRUSH most folks, she still smiles and encourages and tries, every day, to believe that things are going to be okay. To be honest, it drives me nuts sometimes. But in a garden full of pricklies and bitter herbs, she just keeps flourishing and providing sustenance.
And it occurred to me, with dirt under my fingernails and anger in my heart at that stupid woman who was mean to my mama, that we need more folks like my mother. We need more hope and less bitterness. More strength and less despair. More sunshine and less tears.
I'm working in my garden again today: carrots and beets and turnips and radishes. I'll be planting things that are less showy, that hide their goodness until it's most needed. They have their place in the garden, too.
What will YOU plant today? And, maybe more importantly, how will you grow?
Occasionally, during breaks, I would check on Facebook, where I read (over and over again) about tears and prayers and mourning. I also read a few posts about how religion caused the attacks on September 11, 2001, and one, inexplicably, about how if you didn't like that America was "one nation under God," you should leave. Sigh.
Let me go ahead and say that you should follow your bliss (or sadness, as it were) and mourn or reflect or remember any way you want to and that these next few paragraphs are not in any way telling you that you are wrong for feeling or expressing your feelings any way you want to. Unless you do something crazy and, like, make a bonfire with a pile of Girl Scout Thin Mints. I mean, that's just wrong.
That said, it seems to me that if the best that Americans can do is think of 9/11 as a day when it all went wrong, or focus on all of the dead people, or even focus only on the actions of the heroic men and women who died that day being heroes...well...that sort of seems wrong, to me. (ONLY TO ME. IF YOU DO ANY OF THE ABOVE, ROCK ON.) Here's why:
America didn't end that day. It didn't really even change that much. I got up the next day and went to work. Millions of other Americans did, too. The markets rebounded, the crops came in, the language stayed the same. We have religious freedom. We have Facebook and iPods and clean water. The one thing that did change, maybe, was that for a week or two, we were a united nation. We understood, for a ridiculously short time, that we were all Americans and--on a global scale--all humans and for Pete's sake, life is damn precious, no matter what nationality or religion you claim.
NOW we've changed drastically. We are such a changed country right now that I'll admit I'm much more fearful than I ever was on September 11. But I'm afraid not of foreign men in hijacked airplanes. I'm afraid of men in snazzy suits who hold gigantic prayer fests while fire fighters in his state buy their own fuel and gear. I'm afraid of women who want to lower minimum wage to that of our "competition" in third world countries. I'm afraid of my fellow citizens who go on and on about how repressed they are by our president even as they want to remove anybody who isn't Christian from public office--or, you know, from the country. Those folks scare the shit out of me, y'all.
So, yesterday, I wasn't watching any memorials or changing my FB picture to an American flag, or scanning in the pictures I took of the Manhattan skyline from the Statue of Liberty while on a show choir trip in high school. I wasn't finding quotes about freedom or heroism or liberty or justice. I wasn't crying and/or reminiscing. I was planting.
Crouched over the dirt, tugging River away from the delicate seedlings or whatever roly poly she was stalking, I made preparations for the winter. I pulled weeds and tucked seeds into the dry soil, adding a little prayer to every wish. That's what seeds are, you know. Wishes for the future. And as I sweated under the late afternoon sun, I started thinking about the seeds I scattered and the young plants I stuffed into rows.
Autumn crops are all the same here in the south: strong smelling greens and vibrant roots. Their seeds are similar: tiny little spears or earth-colored balls, impossible to find if you lose track over the rows. They grow in adverse conditions, fighting through the last gasping days of summer to flourish in the cool, wind-tossed Autumn. They'll keep going, some of them, even in the frigid days of late January and early February, before giving way to sweet peas and potatoes.
It wasn't a difficult metaphor to find, really. And on a cosmic scale, I'm not sure it IS a metaphor. We're all little seeds. We contain within our bodies the capability to grow and change and produce. We are planted where we are planted for a purpose. Each of us has a place and responsibility. We are Something's hope for the future.
But we're more than that. We aren't just mindless collards squatting in the garden. We have hearts and minds and souls that we all too often use for hurting our fellow
This morning, two woman pretty much attacked my mother on FB for having the audacity to point out that the president read a Bible verse at a memorial service and that perhaps we ought to come together as Americans. One woman pointed out that Satan quoted Bible verses, too. ("Satan's in Washington." Give yourself a high five if you remember Marlena writhing around in her silky pajamas and panty hose.) The other called my mother "repressive," and unloaded a wad of nastiness on her that brought out the North Georgia hill girl in me. I was HET UP, y'all.
Because my mama, she is a planter of seeds. She is Little Mary Sunshine. She is a laugher and dancer and smiler. In the face of a year that would CRUSH most folks, she still smiles and encourages and tries, every day, to believe that things are going to be okay. To be honest, it drives me nuts sometimes. But in a garden full of pricklies and bitter herbs, she just keeps flourishing and providing sustenance.
And it occurred to me, with dirt under my fingernails and anger in my heart at that stupid woman who was mean to my mama, that we need more folks like my mother. We need more hope and less bitterness. More strength and less despair. More sunshine and less tears.
I'm working in my garden again today: carrots and beets and turnips and radishes. I'll be planting things that are less showy, that hide their goodness until it's most needed. They have their place in the garden, too.
What will YOU plant today? And, maybe more importantly, how will you grow?
Friday, September 02, 2011
Mop Dogs, Family Values, and Wanting More OR How My Morning Run Turned Into a Philosophical Awakening
This morning, I headed out for my morning run, determined to make it a good one, since I haven't been able to get one in this week due to a packed schedule and the soul-crushing humidity. The morning was cool, Frodo was keeping me going as he snuffled out what was obviously some sort of squirrel leopard, and despite the pains brought from lack of exercise this week, everything was right with the world.
As I turned the corner onto the street that's the top of the neighborhood, the doglet started whining and snuffling louder. Given that we'd been run up on by a large Rottweiler mix (that turned out to be a big, friendly puppy), I kept running and ignored him. Then, up ahead, I spotted a mop dog. You know, the kind of dog you could use to clean your floor if only it came with a stick attached? (I'm awful. Whatever.) Anyway, the mop dog started running toward us, which gave me the chance to note that--much like the Rottie--it wasn't wearing tags.
The dogs greeted each other with stiff legs and little growls and jumps and I tugged on Frodo's leash and told the other dog to go away. But the mop dog did NOT go away. It frisked around us and Frodo frisked with it and there was a general jumble of dogs and leashes and me tugging and I turned to tell the mop dog to go home and leave us alone at the same time that Frodo lunged to say the same thing and...I sprained my ankle again.
Crunch. Snap. Me on the ground writhing in pain.
The unfortunate thing is that, you know, instead of being on the library floor within shouting distance of various family members, I was in somebody's front yard. By the street. Hanging on to a leash attached to a dog who'd had quite enough of another dog, thank you kindly. Which, you know, is embarrassing.
I tried to pull my mess together, because the position which felt best was me pressing my head into the grass with my butt up in the air, which...no. I managed to fall on my side and then lurch up to sitting where I swatted at the damned mop dog and made it run away. I might have cried a little, but this was mainly because a truck had approached, slowed, and then KEPT GOING while I rolled around clutching my ankle while the dogs wrestled.
Let me repeat that: lady on the ground, dogs wrestling, KEPT GOING.
Let me also go ahead and note for you right here that I could hear folks in the houses around me: TVs, doors closing, et cetera. I'm willing to suspend disbelief for a moment and say that it's possible, once again--for those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, nobody came when the Rottie came up, either--, that nobody heard me yelling or noticed me wallowing around on a lawn. I mean, I have a GREAT imagination. After a few moments of clutching and sobbing softly, I realized that nobody was going to help me. So. I called my mother-in-law to come and pick me up, because there was no way I could walk all the way back home. I was maybe a mile from home, but there was a hill and, also, I just didn't want to hobble. Call me weak. I can take it.
My mother-in-law said she'd come get me and I somehow managed to pull myself up and start walking, because there was no way I was going to stay there, lying on the ground amongst people who didn't want to help me. I limped. I cried a little. I almost fell over a few times, but I got my ass off that street. Four cars passed me, and another one when I turned onto another street. Nobody stopped.
Finally, I saw my mil's car and I burst into tears. I mean...SOBBING. I'm not going to say that I'm not a crier. I cry. I cry at Alan Jackson songs and Pampers commercials and at the sight of my little girl skipping merrily into the school building on her first day of Pre-K. However, I rarely cry-cry in front of people. Few folks have ever seen the snot-laden, tear-quirting, ugly-face-making extravaganza that is Heather Crying. I think in the almost twenty years my mil has known me, she's seen me cry-cry once before today.
She patted my shoulder and said that she knew I hurt, but that wasn't it. What was IT was that I had been completely ignored by my fellow human beings. I was in pain, in need and there was nobody to help me. What the hell? I mean, I would have taken just a friendly shout out the window, you know? I got no shout.
Anyway, I got back home and iced my ankle down and stopped crying and then I got on the interwebs, because what else was I going to do? And then I came across the story about the Million Mom movement. I'm not going to link to them, because I think they're acting like asshats, but the gist of it is that a bunch of women, backed by the American Family Association, which has been identified as a hate group because they hate Teh Gays, of course, are trying to force Dancing With the Stars to remove Carson Kressly and Chaz Bono from the show because they are Teh Gay. Or Teh Transgendered. (They aren't going to force the show to get rid of David Arquette, the cheating husband, or Kristin Whatsernuts, whose show not only lowered the entire nation's IQ, but also featured lots of Teh Unmarried Sex. And drinking. And assininity.)
To be clear: they want somebody removed from a television show, excluded from public view, locked away from the children because they don't, apparently, have AFA sanctioned sex with the opposite sex. I went on their FB page and found a whole lot of folks talking about forcing the networks only to show Christian-sanctioned shows and how they were changing the world and how maybe if Cher had been a better mother, Chaz would be wearing a skirt and being a mother. DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOM? If you'd been a better mother, I'd be wearing a skirt. Thank GAWD you didn't totally suck and I was able to be a mother because of it.
Y'all. Listen. I know they aren't connected in any way at all, but for some reason, my inconsiderate neighbors and the asshatty mothers against Teh Gay dancers on television coalesced into one thing and now I am just STEWING.
I mean, honestly, are these women such distant, crappy mothers that they are relying on television to ensure that the family values they uphold are taught? Are they such controlling people that they want to ensure that their family values are the ones taught to my kids? Do they possess such low muscle tone that they can't turn off the damn television if a non-AFA-sanctioned show comes on?
But even more than that, I'm just pissed that people can't be humans. You know what? We aren't born Pagans. Or Christians. Or atheists. We aren't born liberals or conservatives, or Democrats or libertarians or TV watchers. We're born human. And we're so busy trying to prove that we're MORE something besides human--we're more wealthy or more busy or more religious or more smart or more hip or more whatEVER that we let our fellow beings lie on the street in pain. We want to force our fellow human beings to be out of the public eye and hidden from view if they don't match our ideals of how they can best be MORE. We choose, in trying to be more, to be less.
How is that even possible?
I don't know what the answer is. I know that my ankle isn't as bad as it was the last time around. I know that it wasn't a life or death situation that left me hobbling down the street. I know that Carson Kressley will still be gay whether he's allowed to show his face on television or not. Chaz Bono will still be a dude even if he can't put on a glitter-spangled tuxedo.
What I don't know is if my children will grow up in a world in which humanity takes precedence over being or having more. Given today, I'm leaning toward not so much.
Pardon me while I go ice my ankle and my soul.
As I turned the corner onto the street that's the top of the neighborhood, the doglet started whining and snuffling louder. Given that we'd been run up on by a large Rottweiler mix (that turned out to be a big, friendly puppy), I kept running and ignored him. Then, up ahead, I spotted a mop dog. You know, the kind of dog you could use to clean your floor if only it came with a stick attached? (I'm awful. Whatever.) Anyway, the mop dog started running toward us, which gave me the chance to note that--much like the Rottie--it wasn't wearing tags.
The dogs greeted each other with stiff legs and little growls and jumps and I tugged on Frodo's leash and told the other dog to go away. But the mop dog did NOT go away. It frisked around us and Frodo frisked with it and there was a general jumble of dogs and leashes and me tugging and I turned to tell the mop dog to go home and leave us alone at the same time that Frodo lunged to say the same thing and...I sprained my ankle again.
Crunch. Snap. Me on the ground writhing in pain.
The unfortunate thing is that, you know, instead of being on the library floor within shouting distance of various family members, I was in somebody's front yard. By the street. Hanging on to a leash attached to a dog who'd had quite enough of another dog, thank you kindly. Which, you know, is embarrassing.
I tried to pull my mess together, because the position which felt best was me pressing my head into the grass with my butt up in the air, which...no. I managed to fall on my side and then lurch up to sitting where I swatted at the damned mop dog and made it run away. I might have cried a little, but this was mainly because a truck had approached, slowed, and then KEPT GOING while I rolled around clutching my ankle while the dogs wrestled.
Let me repeat that: lady on the ground, dogs wrestling, KEPT GOING.
Let me also go ahead and note for you right here that I could hear folks in the houses around me: TVs, doors closing, et cetera. I'm willing to suspend disbelief for a moment and say that it's possible, once again--for those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, nobody came when the Rottie came up, either--, that nobody heard me yelling or noticed me wallowing around on a lawn. I mean, I have a GREAT imagination. After a few moments of clutching and sobbing softly, I realized that nobody was going to help me. So. I called my mother-in-law to come and pick me up, because there was no way I could walk all the way back home. I was maybe a mile from home, but there was a hill and, also, I just didn't want to hobble. Call me weak. I can take it.
My mother-in-law said she'd come get me and I somehow managed to pull myself up and start walking, because there was no way I was going to stay there, lying on the ground amongst people who didn't want to help me. I limped. I cried a little. I almost fell over a few times, but I got my ass off that street. Four cars passed me, and another one when I turned onto another street. Nobody stopped.
Finally, I saw my mil's car and I burst into tears. I mean...SOBBING. I'm not going to say that I'm not a crier. I cry. I cry at Alan Jackson songs and Pampers commercials and at the sight of my little girl skipping merrily into the school building on her first day of Pre-K. However, I rarely cry-cry in front of people. Few folks have ever seen the snot-laden, tear-quirting, ugly-face-making extravaganza that is Heather Crying. I think in the almost twenty years my mil has known me, she's seen me cry-cry once before today.
She patted my shoulder and said that she knew I hurt, but that wasn't it. What was IT was that I had been completely ignored by my fellow human beings. I was in pain, in need and there was nobody to help me. What the hell? I mean, I would have taken just a friendly shout out the window, you know? I got no shout.
Anyway, I got back home and iced my ankle down and stopped crying and then I got on the interwebs, because what else was I going to do? And then I came across the story about the Million Mom movement. I'm not going to link to them, because I think they're acting like asshats, but the gist of it is that a bunch of women, backed by the American Family Association, which has been identified as a hate group because they hate Teh Gays, of course, are trying to force Dancing With the Stars to remove Carson Kressly and Chaz Bono from the show because they are Teh Gay. Or Teh Transgendered. (They aren't going to force the show to get rid of David Arquette, the cheating husband, or Kristin Whatsernuts, whose show not only lowered the entire nation's IQ, but also featured lots of Teh Unmarried Sex. And drinking. And assininity.)
To be clear: they want somebody removed from a television show, excluded from public view, locked away from the children because they don't, apparently, have AFA sanctioned sex with the opposite sex. I went on their FB page and found a whole lot of folks talking about forcing the networks only to show Christian-sanctioned shows and how they were changing the world and how maybe if Cher had been a better mother, Chaz would be wearing a skirt and being a mother. DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOM? If you'd been a better mother, I'd be wearing a skirt. Thank GAWD you didn't totally suck and I was able to be a mother because of it.
Y'all. Listen. I know they aren't connected in any way at all, but for some reason, my inconsiderate neighbors and the asshatty mothers against Teh Gay dancers on television coalesced into one thing and now I am just STEWING.
I mean, honestly, are these women such distant, crappy mothers that they are relying on television to ensure that the family values they uphold are taught? Are they such controlling people that they want to ensure that their family values are the ones taught to my kids? Do they possess such low muscle tone that they can't turn off the damn television if a non-AFA-sanctioned show comes on?
But even more than that, I'm just pissed that people can't be humans. You know what? We aren't born Pagans. Or Christians. Or atheists. We aren't born liberals or conservatives, or Democrats or libertarians or TV watchers. We're born human. And we're so busy trying to prove that we're MORE something besides human--we're more wealthy or more busy or more religious or more smart or more hip or more whatEVER that we let our fellow beings lie on the street in pain. We want to force our fellow human beings to be out of the public eye and hidden from view if they don't match our ideals of how they can best be MORE. We choose, in trying to be more, to be less.
How is that even possible?
I don't know what the answer is. I know that my ankle isn't as bad as it was the last time around. I know that it wasn't a life or death situation that left me hobbling down the street. I know that Carson Kressley will still be gay whether he's allowed to show his face on television or not. Chaz Bono will still be a dude even if he can't put on a glitter-spangled tuxedo.
What I don't know is if my children will grow up in a world in which humanity takes precedence over being or having more. Given today, I'm leaning toward not so much.
Pardon me while I go ice my ankle and my soul.
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Not Enough
I just got out of the shower. My hair is still dripping, in fact.
I'm not saying this to be sexy.
I took a shower because I smelled like stale urine and roach spray and, frankly, I felt dirty.
Today I delivered meals to elderly clients. It's the volunteer work that I do every week, my way of "giving back to my community." It was hot and oppressive today, but I felt good: the kidlets are doing well in school, I'll be working with the school's environmental club with a lady I think a lot of--who incidentally works with a performing arts school at which I'll be taking pictures soon. I was so tickled with myself, so pleased to be part of a circle that felt like it was coming together.
Then I got to the home of one of my clients. Her home doesn't have air conditioning, just two fans that circulate the stagnant air. When I got there, she was slumped in her chair, struggling with something.
I went in and she said, "I need some help, baby."
She needed help to get her pants on. Her underwear was twisted and tangled around one leg. Her pants were also twisted. Neither garment was clean. She said, "I just need to pull them up."
I tried for a few moments and then I said, "Let's start all over." And I knelt down and pulled off her underwear and pants and lifted her feet into her clothes and helped her stand up and get everything situated correctly.
Understand: I didn't do this to be charitable. I did it because humans have a need to be clothed and I could fill that need for her. It wasn't kindness. It was humanity.
Back in her chair, she seemed disoriented. "Do you need something else?" I asked. She needed water.
I went into her kitchen, which was crawling with roaches. Her freezer was filled with ice: ice in the broken ice maker, ice in bowls, ice in trays. I got her ice water and brought it back to her. She gulped it down, her hands shaking.
"I'm worried about you," I said. "Are you too hot?"
She struggled to tell me that she was fine, that she could call her daughter if she needed help. So I left her there to deliver another meal.
I delivered the next meal. It was hot outside. It was viciously hot and all I could think about was my other client, slumped in her chair and telling me that she didn't feel hot at all, that she didn't get hot anymore.
I went back. I did not do this to be kind or charitable. I did it because she was a fellow human being who needed help. I called 911 as I did so, because in all honesty, I felt like she might be in dire straits when I got to her house. The operator waiting for me, I went inside the dark, hot, bug-ridden house and called for my client. She was in her bedroom. She needed help with her shirt, because her granddaughter was coming to take her to pay bills.
I got her back to her chair. "You came back to see about me," she said.
"Yes," I said, hanging up with the 911 operator. I rearranged her shirt so that it covered her body. I squatted down by her chair and held her hand, which was so hot in mine that it gave me chills.
"You feel hot to me. Are you sure your granddaughter is coming?"
"Yeah, baby. She's coming. I know what to do if I feel bad. I'll call 911."
She wanted me to leave. I could feel that. And because humans need dignity, I went back to my own house.
And then I took a shower, to wash the stink of her home off of me.
Here's the thing: our politicians can talk all they want about "tar babies" and "terrorists." They can tell us that they want to defeat the president or create jobs or deal with the debt ceiling. Members of organizations with the word "heritage" in the name can release documents that "prove" that the poor in America have homes with televisions and refrigerators, and so how in the world can the government call them poor? Citizens who claim to follow a man who said that his followers would be judged by their treatment of the poor and sick and incarcerated can put money in the offering plate to send teenagers on missions to foreign countries so they can see what real poverty is like and they can do their god's work. Progressives can blather on and on about the New Deal and how the Tea Party is destroying the social contract and blah blah blah.
BLAH BLAH BLAH, y'all.
It is not enough. It is not nearly enough. You want to see poverty? You want to know how people who are poor and sick and alone live? You want to know how those blasted entitlements make people "live like kings?" You come with me. You help a woman pull her dirty panties up so she can go pay her electric bill so that the two fans and refrigerator that provide her the only respite she has from the punishing, cruel, awful heat of a Georgia summer can keep running. Lay off pontificating on Facebook and Google + about all of the injustices you see because of politicians or folks who mooch off the system or who don't understand the system or hypocrites or conservatives or liberals. Get your body so dirty with poverty that you have to wash it off when you get back to your air-conditioned, roach-free home.
You think I'm trying to shame you or that I'm tooting my own horn? I'm not. Because what I'm doing isn't enough, either. How many more millions of people live like my client, within a stone's throw of a church, within a stone's throw of her neighbor? How many people live like me, worried about the economy, but tapping away with righteous indignation on my computer? Many, I'd venture to say.
Too many of us for there to be not enough in our country.
I'm not saying this to be sexy.
I took a shower because I smelled like stale urine and roach spray and, frankly, I felt dirty.
Today I delivered meals to elderly clients. It's the volunteer work that I do every week, my way of "giving back to my community." It was hot and oppressive today, but I felt good: the kidlets are doing well in school, I'll be working with the school's environmental club with a lady I think a lot of--who incidentally works with a performing arts school at which I'll be taking pictures soon. I was so tickled with myself, so pleased to be part of a circle that felt like it was coming together.
Then I got to the home of one of my clients. Her home doesn't have air conditioning, just two fans that circulate the stagnant air. When I got there, she was slumped in her chair, struggling with something.
I went in and she said, "I need some help, baby."
She needed help to get her pants on. Her underwear was twisted and tangled around one leg. Her pants were also twisted. Neither garment was clean. She said, "I just need to pull them up."
I tried for a few moments and then I said, "Let's start all over." And I knelt down and pulled off her underwear and pants and lifted her feet into her clothes and helped her stand up and get everything situated correctly.
Understand: I didn't do this to be charitable. I did it because humans have a need to be clothed and I could fill that need for her. It wasn't kindness. It was humanity.
Back in her chair, she seemed disoriented. "Do you need something else?" I asked. She needed water.
I went into her kitchen, which was crawling with roaches. Her freezer was filled with ice: ice in the broken ice maker, ice in bowls, ice in trays. I got her ice water and brought it back to her. She gulped it down, her hands shaking.
"I'm worried about you," I said. "Are you too hot?"
She struggled to tell me that she was fine, that she could call her daughter if she needed help. So I left her there to deliver another meal.
I delivered the next meal. It was hot outside. It was viciously hot and all I could think about was my other client, slumped in her chair and telling me that she didn't feel hot at all, that she didn't get hot anymore.
I went back. I did not do this to be kind or charitable. I did it because she was a fellow human being who needed help. I called 911 as I did so, because in all honesty, I felt like she might be in dire straits when I got to her house. The operator waiting for me, I went inside the dark, hot, bug-ridden house and called for my client. She was in her bedroom. She needed help with her shirt, because her granddaughter was coming to take her to pay bills.
I got her back to her chair. "You came back to see about me," she said.
"Yes," I said, hanging up with the 911 operator. I rearranged her shirt so that it covered her body. I squatted down by her chair and held her hand, which was so hot in mine that it gave me chills.
"You feel hot to me. Are you sure your granddaughter is coming?"
"Yeah, baby. She's coming. I know what to do if I feel bad. I'll call 911."
She wanted me to leave. I could feel that. And because humans need dignity, I went back to my own house.
And then I took a shower, to wash the stink of her home off of me.
Here's the thing: our politicians can talk all they want about "tar babies" and "terrorists." They can tell us that they want to defeat the president or create jobs or deal with the debt ceiling. Members of organizations with the word "heritage" in the name can release documents that "prove" that the poor in America have homes with televisions and refrigerators, and so how in the world can the government call them poor? Citizens who claim to follow a man who said that his followers would be judged by their treatment of the poor and sick and incarcerated can put money in the offering plate to send teenagers on missions to foreign countries so they can see what real poverty is like and they can do their god's work. Progressives can blather on and on about the New Deal and how the Tea Party is destroying the social contract and blah blah blah.
BLAH BLAH BLAH, y'all.
It is not enough. It is not nearly enough. You want to see poverty? You want to know how people who are poor and sick and alone live? You want to know how those blasted entitlements make people "live like kings?" You come with me. You help a woman pull her dirty panties up so she can go pay her electric bill so that the two fans and refrigerator that provide her the only respite she has from the punishing, cruel, awful heat of a Georgia summer can keep running. Lay off pontificating on Facebook and Google + about all of the injustices you see because of politicians or folks who mooch off the system or who don't understand the system or hypocrites or conservatives or liberals. Get your body so dirty with poverty that you have to wash it off when you get back to your air-conditioned, roach-free home.
You think I'm trying to shame you or that I'm tooting my own horn? I'm not. Because what I'm doing isn't enough, either. How many more millions of people live like my client, within a stone's throw of a church, within a stone's throw of her neighbor? How many people live like me, worried about the economy, but tapping away with righteous indignation on my computer? Many, I'd venture to say.
Too many of us for there to be not enough in our country.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Putting the Weiner into Perspective
Let me give y'all a quick rundown on the awfulness going on around our world lately:
Have I mentioned I'm considering moving out to the woods with just my husband and my kids and the dog and me? Because OH MY FILING CABINET, shut up talking about his penis, everybody on the goldanged planet.
Hi, Republicans and conservatives, who are calling with grave voices and furrowed brows for the representative's resignation. I know that you are practically swallowing your tongues with glee because not only did one of the "bad guys" do something sexually sordid, but this particular bad guy was going after the wife of one of your guys who did something sexually sordid (AnthonyWeiner has been like a rabid terrier on the heels of Clarence Thomas and his Tea Party queen wife, Ginni.) You aren't fooling anybody and I wish that y'all would hush.
Hi, progressives and liberals who are practically falling all over yourselves to say how hypocritical it is for any conservative person to deride Weiner (MEINE GOTT, I HATE HIS NAME), when Republicans who criticize Teh Gays are soliciting gay sex or who hold up the word of God are cheating on their wives, or...well, pretty much anything Rush Limbaugh says or does is fair game here, right? Y'all, I know. It sucks when one of our guys does something slimy, but the truth is, the dude sent out nekkid pictures of himself to multiple women while he was married and that, my friends, is just nasty. So how 'bout, instead of defending him, or trying to scare up proof that Boehner is boning that lobbyist, you just hush. (And stop posting pictures of the man's penis on Facebook, because it creeps me out. People. Seriously.)
And, can I just say, media folks who are bound and damn determined for our politics to be Snookified--HUSH. Seriously, unless you are going to tell me that Anthony Weiner sent those pictures of his penis while he was giving a speech about the importance of impartiality in the Supreme Court in relation to health care reform ON THE CAPITOL GROUNDS, I don't want to hear any more about it. Yes, he's a slimy, potentially sick individual who should probably resign. Is there REALLY anything more to say about it that could make it any worse? (Barring the whole Capitol grounds thing...) No? Then shut up.
I swear, y'all, sometimes I think about what a beautiful, amazing country we have, with every geomass and climate represented. I think about the promise that democracy holds and how lucky we are to have been guided in our early days by such intelligent, insightful men. But can you fricking imagine what would have happened if Facebook and Twitter and the interwebs and damn Fox News had been around back then?
Think about it: Washington might have been a brilliant militarist, but the man had awful false teeth and a fear of public speaking. James Madison was a tiny, itty-bitty little man--if we're worried about Boehner's tan, you think we would have let Jimmy's lack of height gone un-Tweeted? John Adams told the folks in Tripoli that our country wasn't a Christian nation. Franklin liked to run around nekkid and was rumored to have a venereal disease. Thomas Jefferson not only had Teh Sex with one of his slaves, he fathered a child with her, AND took all the magic bits out of the Bible. Alexander Hamilton was a little trigger happy (in addition to enjoying Teh Sex with people who weren't his wife, a fact which Monroe used for the political gain of his buddy, Jefferson.) Holy mackerel, people, we never would have gotten off the damn ground.
You know, I think that if we are a nation of fat, unhappy, worried, debt-laden, argumentative, TV and interweb addicts who are more concerned about a Congressman's penis than the fact that our neighbors don't have jobs or that our food supply is at risk or that our democracy is being pissed on, well...frankly...we don't deserve the largess we have been given. We deserve to be surprised when some other country realizes that we are a nation in crisis and tries to make a land grab. We deserve to have everything our ancestors worked for corrode around us while we frantically program our DVRs not to miss which dude the Bachelorette picked.
I mean, I'm not trying to bring you down, my friends, but, let's put this into perspective:
Weiner's penis versus giant tornadoes.
Weiner's penis versus children sleeping in cars.
Weiner's penis versus massive flooding of the Mississippi River.
Weiner's penis versus hackers breaching bank and technological firms' security.
Weiner's penis versus the summer "surge" planned in Afghanistan.
It looks...well, you know, a little...er...small in comparison, doesn't it?
(No offense, Mr. Weiner. Now put that thing away. Please.)
- The South is still trying to recover from devastating tornadoes in April and May.
- So is Missouri.
- So is Massachusetts.
- Gigantic wildfires, some the size of large cities, are ravaging Arizona and Texas.
- Poverty and hunger are on the rise. Jobs aren't.
- Farmers in Georgia are in the unenviable position of praying both for rain so their crops can grow and enough workers to pick the crops, should they grow.
- The debt ceiling fight is still hinging on Medicare.
- Wisconsin Republicans are going to offer fake Democrats to run in the run-off election, and they aren't even TRYING to be sneaky about it.
- The Gulf? Still choked with oil. (New spill near Louisiana! Spiffy.)
- Japan? Still dealing with a nuclear crisis and thousands (if not millions) of displaced folks and lives.
- Yemen? Syria? Egypt? Struggling for democracy and peace.
- Europe? Struggling against a vicious strain of E. coli.
- Polar bears? Still wondering when folks are going to wake the frick up.
Have I mentioned I'm considering moving out to the woods with just my husband and my kids and the dog and me? Because OH MY FILING CABINET, shut up talking about his penis, everybody on the goldanged planet.
Hi, Republicans and conservatives, who are calling with grave voices and furrowed brows for the representative's resignation. I know that you are practically swallowing your tongues with glee because not only did one of the "bad guys" do something sexually sordid, but this particular bad guy was going after the wife of one of your guys who did something sexually sordid (AnthonyWeiner has been like a rabid terrier on the heels of Clarence Thomas and his Tea Party queen wife, Ginni.) You aren't fooling anybody and I wish that y'all would hush.
Hi, progressives and liberals who are practically falling all over yourselves to say how hypocritical it is for any conservative person to deride Weiner (MEINE GOTT, I HATE HIS NAME), when Republicans who criticize Teh Gays are soliciting gay sex or who hold up the word of God are cheating on their wives, or...well, pretty much anything Rush Limbaugh says or does is fair game here, right? Y'all, I know. It sucks when one of our guys does something slimy, but the truth is, the dude sent out nekkid pictures of himself to multiple women while he was married and that, my friends, is just nasty. So how 'bout, instead of defending him, or trying to scare up proof that Boehner is boning that lobbyist, you just hush. (And stop posting pictures of the man's penis on Facebook, because it creeps me out. People. Seriously.)
And, can I just say, media folks who are bound and damn determined for our politics to be Snookified--HUSH. Seriously, unless you are going to tell me that Anthony Weiner sent those pictures of his penis while he was giving a speech about the importance of impartiality in the Supreme Court in relation to health care reform ON THE CAPITOL GROUNDS, I don't want to hear any more about it. Yes, he's a slimy, potentially sick individual who should probably resign. Is there REALLY anything more to say about it that could make it any worse? (Barring the whole Capitol grounds thing...) No? Then shut up.
I swear, y'all, sometimes I think about what a beautiful, amazing country we have, with every geomass and climate represented. I think about the promise that democracy holds and how lucky we are to have been guided in our early days by such intelligent, insightful men. But can you fricking imagine what would have happened if Facebook and Twitter and the interwebs and damn Fox News had been around back then?
Think about it: Washington might have been a brilliant militarist, but the man had awful false teeth and a fear of public speaking. James Madison was a tiny, itty-bitty little man--if we're worried about Boehner's tan, you think we would have let Jimmy's lack of height gone un-Tweeted? John Adams told the folks in Tripoli that our country wasn't a Christian nation. Franklin liked to run around nekkid and was rumored to have a venereal disease. Thomas Jefferson not only had Teh Sex with one of his slaves, he fathered a child with her, AND took all the magic bits out of the Bible. Alexander Hamilton was a little trigger happy (in addition to enjoying Teh Sex with people who weren't his wife, a fact which Monroe used for the political gain of his buddy, Jefferson.) Holy mackerel, people, we never would have gotten off the damn ground.
You know, I think that if we are a nation of fat, unhappy, worried, debt-laden, argumentative, TV and interweb addicts who are more concerned about a Congressman's penis than the fact that our neighbors don't have jobs or that our food supply is at risk or that our democracy is being pissed on, well...frankly...we don't deserve the largess we have been given. We deserve to be surprised when some other country realizes that we are a nation in crisis and tries to make a land grab. We deserve to have everything our ancestors worked for corrode around us while we frantically program our DVRs not to miss which dude the Bachelorette picked.
I mean, I'm not trying to bring you down, my friends, but, let's put this into perspective:
Weiner's penis versus giant tornadoes.
Weiner's penis versus children sleeping in cars.
Weiner's penis versus massive flooding of the Mississippi River.
Weiner's penis versus hackers breaching bank and technological firms' security.
Weiner's penis versus the summer "surge" planned in Afghanistan.
It looks...well, you know, a little...er...small in comparison, doesn't it?
(No offense, Mr. Weiner. Now put that thing away. Please.)
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