And furthermore.... America, Thank You.

I forgot to say this, because I was so busy not gloating, but thank you America. I love you. So much.
Thank you for making me feel sane again.
Thank you for lifting this burden off my shoulders, and sharing it with me, and putting your arms around my shoulders instead.
Thanks for singing with me. Thanks for praying with me. Thanks for having faith in me when I lost faith in you.
Thanks also for crying with me, and drowning out my embarrassingly loud sobs with your own, in chorus.
But thanks mostly for letting me know I'm not only the one out there with these ideals, these hopes, these dreams. I'm not the only who cares about the sanctity of the Constitution, and common decency, and justice. I'm not the only one who can put aside self-interest and think long-term for once. I'm not the only one who's sick to death of this death culture, of war-mongering, of raped women and slaughtered children on the evening news. I'm not the only one disgusted by corporate soldiers, and real soldiers being kicked to the curb after their service, or told to shut up and go home (if they have one). Yeah, I know, it's conceited of me to even think that.
Because, and maybe I should have come clean with this earlier, I grew up in a family that was like a microcosm of the Bush Administration, with the lying, and the favoritism, and the daily injustices, and the secret addictions, and the bullying, abusive, crazy-making behavior, and the lying, and the lying, and the lying. As a result, I still have this ingrained belief that if I don't do something, take responsibility for something, it won't get done. If I didn't water the plants, they would have died. If I didn't feed and walk the dog, she would have died. If I didn't clean the whole damn house every weekend... you get the picture. So I tend to take the weight of the world on me, and shoulder all sorts of guilt and burden that isn't mine to bear. It was true in my family, it's true for my country. If I don't try and save my family, who will? If I don't try and save the world, who will? It's odd, and not entirely coincidental, for the past 8 years, we as a people have been in a very sick, co-dependent relationship with our government. And for the past 8 years, almost to the day that the Thief got sworn in, I have not spoken to my family.
Now it seems, some kind of global intervention has taken place, and everyone else woke up from the abusive, codependent denial haze sometime after I did. For some, what shook them awake was the immediate aftermath of the 9-11 attacks. For some it was the bald-faced lies told in the mainstream media to get us into this ridiculous, tragic war. For some it was Katrina. For some it was seeing a loved one come home from said war(s) broken, uncared for, and thrown away by this government. For many it was the crashing economy that took their dreams with it.
For me, it was the carpet-bombing of the American people with lie after lie and scandal after scandal that did it. At first, I was so triggered by their violence and deception, I could only duck and cover like everyone else. I could only try and take care of myself and my husband and our cat, which was hard enough to do for the first 3 years of this nightmare, anyway. I was so triggered, most of the time, I could barely catch my breath, nevermind speak out against the atrocities, or tell my story. Even the husband said, right after I'd shaved my head in protest at the Thief's 2nd stolen inauguration (and then immediately decided to get pregnant) "you seem to be taking this personally." Well, I was. That's the understatement of the decade. For me, every time the Bush Regime cranked out another whopper, like "We know Saddam has Weapons of Mass Destruction and he plans to use them!" right after the UN Weapons inspectors were interviewed and said, "yeah, nothing here, we got rid of them all in the 90's, like we told you" it was my psychotic, narcissist of a mother threatening to kill me, herself, and burn down the house all over again- complete with the sneering at my tears and a "you're not abused, you're a spoiled little bitch." for good measure.

So thank you America, for validating my perceptions, what I've seen with my own eyes and felt with my own heart, as real. You don't know how much that means to me.
And if you're not crying yet, just read Alice Walker's Open Letter to Barack Obama, available here http://www.theroot.com/id/48726- but even it doesn't contain the crying-est part. That you had to hear on her interview with Amy Goodman of Democracy Now! today, Veteran's Day. Many black and other oppressed-people leaders around the globe have been calling to remind Obama that the White House was built by slaves, and how he should never forget that. For many of these people, Obama is not enough of a "grievance politician" like Jesse Jackson, one who is constantly reminding whites of the wrongs they've done, and blacks of the struggles they've been through. They know he is a transcendent of that type, and not of that type, so he needs to "remember" as a cultural descendant of American slaves, if not a strictly racial descendant of them (since his father was not descended from slaves). This gets tricky because white racists could just as easily remind Obama constantly that the White House was built by slaves, but they'd be doing it to try and belittle him or "put him in his place." As Alice does, she reframed it in her gentle, rip-your-heart-open way. She said look, the ancestors have long memories, and they also think long-term. So I think they knew, when they were building that house, that they were building it for him. They poured their loftiest dreams into the sweat that built that place, and they dreamnt of him generations before he ever arrived. They knew he would come. They knew they wouldn't see it in their lifetimes, or in their children's lifetime, or in their great-grandchildren's lifetime, but they knew he would come. That's faith.
(crying yet?)
I liken it to that old saying about Cathedral builders in Europe back in the day. It would take at least 100 years to build a good one, and workers were little better than slaves, but the honor and "glory" of doing it would be passed down for 3, 4 generations.
It also strikes a similar chord to one of my favorite quotes, from one of my favorite activist heroine-moms, Winona LaDuke. She was, in turn, quoting one of her Anishinaabe elders on the struggles of Native Americans and whether or not they would ever "get there." The elder said, in a nutshell- "all this- our lands being taken away, our people diminished from disease and warfare, our people's families torn apart by poverty, drugs and crime, these past 200 or so years, all this, is but a thunderclap (and here he smacked his hands together loudly, for effect) in the history of our people."
We'll look on these past 8 years as such, amigos. I have faith. But thank you again, so much, for weathering the storm with me, and for handing me a damn umbrella when I wouldn't get out of the rain myself.

(and thanks for allowing me to officially re-christen this space as The Campfire! The Crowbar was starting to give me bad visuals.)

What, Me, Gloat?

Nah, no gloating to be found here. Nuthin' to see here. Move along. Except, this is me, right now
I have no wish to behave or speak like the blowhard asswipes who bellowed their pre-supposed superiority from every rooftop, after they STOLE another election in 2004. No desire.
On the other hand, I'm not going to button my lip and sit on my hands either. A song keeps coming to me, and it's sung to the tune of, and in the style of, one of Dora the Explorer's victory songs at the end of each episode. Need a refresher? Here you go:

But my version goes a little something like this:
Hey, we e-lec-ted a President, who isn't an id-i-ot! Yeah
We did it! We did it! We did it- Hooray!
Yeah we listened to our hopes instead of our fears, yeah
we did it- We did it! We did it! Hooray!
We used our hearts and minds to win some hearts and minds
Yeah we did it. We did it! We did it! Hooray!

Ah. Feels good, huh? I'm still in that nervous, waiting-for-something-terrible-to-happen mode, which is not entirely unwarranted. And then every once in a while, I tear up, or burst out giggling, thinking of how awesome this is.
President-elect Barack Obama.
I knew it would happen, and yet I didn't. I'm still worried for him. A lot of people are. And their feelings are not entirely unwarranted either. If he is a cross between JFK and MLK- well- that's awesome, but it doesn't bode well.
We have to imagine a different outcome this time.
I've harped on this before. Our imaginations could use a little exercise, out in the fresh air and sunshine. So I'm busy imagining a more perfect union, and everyone working together to make sure it happens. I'm visualizing Malia at age 18 - the age she'll be when they turn over the White House to someone else. And yes, I'm picturing the new puppy growing up, and growing old there too (FYI, it's a Wheaton terrier from a rescue group- they have hypo-allergenic hair instead of fur, they're an American breed, and they're great dogs.)
I'm imagining the fashion standards Michelle will set as a "real" working woman, and a real woman who is really in love with her husband and not afraid to show it, while being her own person and setting a fabulous example for her daughters, all at the same time. I'm jubilant at the thought that President Obama is the first president my daughter will remember. I'm pretty glad that Bush & Co. will be but a vague memory to her, if at all, much like the Nixon administration was to me.
So. With all that happiness and sunshine- and really, I haven't gloated all week- you can ask my friends- I still have to wonder why the McCain supporters are so genuinely down-hearted.
Seriously. But if any of them are reading (doubtful)- I want to say, you have nothing to fear from us. Barack Obama means it when he says he will be your President too- he's not just paying lip service to that notion like most Republicans do. We are not the ones who keep Enemy lists of people and then act out our revenge fantasies on them as soon as we get a modicum of power (helloooo, Mrs. Palin....). We are not the ones you have to worry about dragging your family from their beds in the middle of the night because you sorta look like an "enemy combatant" or your name is similar to a terrorist's. We are not the ones who detain and torture people without due process, just because we've consolidated power in all branches of government, and we'll get away with it at least for a few years.
Nope. And ya know what? They know that. The one, lone blowhard conservative in my office used to say some amazing shit right to my face like, "Obama is a sleeper agent- his story is bullshit- how do you get into Harvard after going to highschool in Hawaii? That's right, affirmative action. yeeha, we'll have the first affirmative-action President." My jaw would just drop, my fists would clench, then I would remember I'm in an office environment... and walk away. Then I realized, he's saying this shit because he knows that when we're in power, we won't pull any of the common crap they pull on a daily basis, just because that's not who we are. He knows I'm not going to put him on an "S-list" and have him beaten senseless just because I can, because that's not how we roll. Schmuck.
So it boggles the mind as to why all these yahoos are out buying up every assault weapon on the market right now, before Obama is sworn in, because they think one of the first things he'll do is ban assault weapons. Ostensibly. What they're really afraid of, and what they won't admit to (unless tortured) is a big "Black Uprising" - the kind that Ron Paul used to warn about in his little Texan Libertarian newsletters. http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/01/10/paul.newsletters/index.html
He explicitly advised his subscribers to stock up on weapons, food, and more weapons, because as soon as blacks got a little bit of power, they would use it to avenge almost 400 years of slavery and general mistreatment.
Now, I've never heard any black person say anything remotely similar to what Mr. Paul projects onto them, as an entire "people"- but seriously dudes- we have bigger fish to fry right now than the whole assault weapons/ 2nd Amendment problem. Do you really think you and your damn hunting rifles are priority 1?
For instance, the economy is looming large. And global warming, which is escalating.
It's November 7th, and Cuba is about to get hammered with ANOTHER hurricane. So- even if you think we're about to go all Mad Max because of these combined maelstroms... did you really think we were "safe" under the Patriot Act, which basically suspends the Constitution whenever Dubya gets nervous (which is frequently)? And the warrantless wiretapping of American citizens by the government- that didn't make you nervous? And again, the carting-off of people to black-site prisons just because they looked a certain way, talked a certain way, worshiped a certain way.... that didn't bother you in the least? The fact that these mercenary corporate armies were sent into New Orleans after Katrina, to SHOOT CIVILIANS didn't bother you at all? But now... that we have a black or mixed race man in the highest office in the land... all of a sudden you feel the need to buy an assault rifle. And that's not racially motivated at all? Sorry, not buyin' it.
If anyone else believes it, I've got a mountain to sell you, complete with Scenic Roads open 5 months a year, and Snackbar.
Refreshments, anyone?

Mop-up

Hey y'all. Suzy here, with my night-before-the-election blog. There were a few tacks I was going to take with this one, but (I mean, for cripes' sake, how could I not blog?) I think it's more important to do the pre-election thing first.
And primero, I am not trying to freak anyone out, I'm just warning everyone to keep a sharp eye out, and stay prepared, until the evening of January 20th. And even after that, we probably can't relax. No way the right wingers are going to just fold up their cheap tents and go home. We'll have to protect Obama while holding his feet to the fire on the issues, and be watching his back at the same time. For eight years. Yep. Thought it was time to relax? Sorry. When I was on a wildland fire-fighting crew, our chiefs trained us that most accidents and injuries happen not during the fire, when everybody's senses are sharpened and heightened by adrenaline, and you can work for 24 hours straight without knowing it, but during "mop-up" or the aftermath of the fire. When you're not directly battling flames, you tend to relax a little bit, let your guard down, start goofing and horsing around with your crewmates, and before you know it, someone falls into a stumphole and gets seriously hurt. Stumpholes are what they sound like- a tree burns almost completely, leaving maybe part of a stump behind and a whole lotta ash and smoldering charcoal. They're deceptive because the tree looks totally burned- like there's no fuel left to burn so how could it be dangerous? But what you don't see is that the fire has also traveled down the main roots of the tree and burned them out under the ground on which you're standing, and it may look solid, but as soon as someone steps on the thin layer of ash and mineralized soil - whoosh! Down they go down the rabbit hole. Actually they're much worse than rabbit holes- half the time the fire is still burning down there, the ground is hot enough to melt rubber soles on fire-grade boots, and the gaping black maw that opens to swallow you up looks like an entrance to hell. Or, what I am imagine the entrance to hell would look like, having never been there. (* correction, I thought I was in hell once, but I was just in New England.)
If you prefer sports metaphors, try the one Michael Moore trotted out a couple days ago, in an interview with Amy Goodman. He told the story of the Detroit Lions running back who was blazing a trail to the endzone and thought he was home-free, and started celebrating before he even got to the endzone... doing his little dance and all...and a running back from the opposing team came and smacked that ball right out of the Lions' dude's hands. And took it, and ran with it, for quite a distance. Yeah.
Or if you prefer the much shorter, Yogi Berra type warning, "it ain't over til it's over."
So don't fall into any stumpholes out there tomorrow, horsin' around and doing your premature victory dance/laps, and I'll see you at the Global Tiki Party afterwards. :)
Oh and here's a preview of that other blog I was going to write:

Anyhoo, here goes