Listen, I don’t profess to be the policy queen. I barely know how to convey my own thoughts sometimes so me telling somebody else how to do it is a shakey venture (except of course when I’m right!). Here’s what I do know: there are bunch of idiots in this country I love. Maybe that’s why I love this country because of the cause/effect of the idiots or maybe I’m psycho.
This morning on the news there were a few people who said they still hadn’t heard enough from both candidates. People, we haven’t gotten what we are going to get out of those two. There isn’t anything left to give short of blood types and favorite value meals. Star Magazine will be sure to get one of those details to you after the election, I’m sure.
This is why comedy is the best news of all. SNL, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert have it right. While telling us the info, they make fun of us at the same time. The new edutainment. Some of this stuff is so sad that you have to laugh. Cindy McCain has said that Obama has run the dirtiest campaign in American history. Now, while I know her man has been around a long time, I am going to have to question her American history skills on this one. Sean Hannity and Elizabeth Hasselback have decided to perch themselves on this Bill Ayers think like it’s the last raft after the Titanic catastrophe. And maybe it is for them. All this boils down to another point aside from comedy being our fearless leader during heavy decision making times: we are emotional voters.
In Virginia at Jerry Falwell’s so-called Christian school, they are registering voters supposedly in a non-partisan way. But one student who wanted to register Democrat was asked if he was Christian when he did so. Why would that be? Obama is Christian. And while some people try to slam his affiliation with Jeremiah Wright - Palin went to a church where they believe in witchcraft, speak in tongues and are inclined to think you can pray sexual preference one way or the other. Last I checked, you could have any name, have any shade on your skin, any economic background and still be Christian. My favorite Christian is my cousin Renee and I’m convinced with her kind, loving, baby making, husband loving, home schooling, non-judgmental, persevering spirit that she should be saint. Upon first glance, those Virginians would say she was a young nonworkign black woman with too many kids. We American like to go with the picture in our minds instead of our own reality.
This is the only reason why facts seem to not always be able to trump perception. One focus group memeber last night said that McCain gave more numbers than Obama did. Huh? Were they good numbers or phone numbers or measurements?
We need comedy to guide us through our humanity. This election is so fragile that we could go any direction. I mean did you think this time eight years ago, during our surplus mind you, that we’d be looking at a VP nominee who just got a passport a few years ago or a Presidential candidate who is black? Or a 72 year-old who voted against having MLK Day as a national holiday? Man, just get your popcorn.
If you (whoever you are) have read this blog and read all my blood poured out onto the monitor, then you might have caught a glimpse of me and my known issues. I have no problem putting the spotlight on my issues. In fact, one ex painted me out to be “too happy” therefore making me obsessed with adding dimension to myself. Nobody is too happy. Joyous, yes. But I’m human.
As I get older, I like to put a microscope on myself, like a butterfly always changing blah blah blah. Yesterday I discovered that, I am like the housewife who says she’s had the same weight since she was twenty. Wrong! I keep saying I have abandonmnet issues and, of course, self diagnosed given my biological stand-in made a break for things and then I was chosen by my father who didn’t share my blood but did better in my own opinion than any man with the same blood could have. But if you don’t share blood, you always wonder if the connection is as strong. So this whole time, in my relationships I’ve been scared that connections without cement in my life can be broken. But here’s the deal. I just realized that’s not true. My dad taught me that if you love someone, they can’t be. Bond is always there. The stand-in proved that too. He’s ghost. Duh! So, what, may you ask is my deal?
New York, circa 1994. I was the literature girl in a circle full of performing poets. The Dorothy Parker/Toni Morrison amongst the Dylans, Joan Baezs and Sonia Sanchezs. Those were good times. Can you imagine the issues and genius word play that went on? Anyways, back to the story. I start dating a young poet - by young I mean three years younger than me and also one that hadn’t really started making money and touring like the rest of our group. He was blunt, sexy, witty, smart and nuturing - at first. This changes as we hang out more alone together. The one fateful night that has so far wounded me happened like this: Me and the Youngin were sitting at our regular Indian resturant (I’ve done a bunch of rememories at that place since then - let me tell you!) and we spot a group of our friends trapsing along in the East Village. I stand up to wave, he puts his head down. Yes, down. As in “maybe they won’t see me if I don’t breathe” type down. And does so just as casually as one would pass the salt or drink a glass of water. It was a crucial blow. That was the first time I’d been a secret.
You see, since then, I’ve been afraid of being the secret. Mind you I don’t have a problem with privacy. That’s different. Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward were private. You knew all you needed to know - they were each other’s. Do I know what their date night was like? Did they ever cheat? I don’t know jack except they loved each other enough to say, “Okay, this is were I am, with this one over here. Everyone else carry on.” That’s my ideal. That’s what I strive for on a regular. But the night I discovered I could be made a secret, made me realize that there is a difference between secret and private. Secret to me means you have some unresolved business that I don’t know about, as your potential/present/ex mate. It says that we aren’t really on the up and up with each other and you’ve got some stuff, heavy stuff, you’re carrying. Private is secure, confident, pure and healthy.
The Youngin did some damage to me from that point on. Amongst the secrecy, there was some meanness and some psychological game playing that took years to unravel (sometimes I find a knot in my brain leftover) - ironic because we didn’t even last that long. And never one to just be a victim - I own the fact that there was room for that disrespect to happen. My niavete and total unsavvyness just put me in a place that one should guard one’s self from. There were several moments I could’ve just broken out but didn’t because I believe people just get better. Well, they do. Just sometimes not being with me. And that’s fine too. Life just keeps on going no matter what so its up to us to figure out what view we’re trying to catch and see if we can see beyond even that one too.
This epiphany was awesome. It let me discover that I am not some kind of crazy “tell the world” type person. It really just says that I don’t want to be nobody’s fool (ha, Paul, that’s for you).
First watch the PBS special on the folks without health insurance and then watch the Rachel Zoe Project. It’s an elixir for vapid. Now…how to not let the uninsured die?