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

O, Death

Yesterday was shit and today wasn't much better. Death sucks. Don't let anyone tell you it doesn't. At the end of yesterday I felt like crap after crying, then talking to lots of people and feeling better, and eating lots of rich food, then crying again. Not even 2 mocha grandes could get me through it, and that's usually my anti-grief/ uncontrollable crying weapon of choice.
A few people even gave me bewildered glances as I sobbed when the casket with our mutual friend and colleague in it came out of the mortuary chapel, bourne by other, stronger mutual friends and colleagues. Yes, I was crying. I cried- at a funeral! For God's sake, why couldn't I control myself??? F- them too. At least I spared the family my blubbering in that condolences line or whatever you call it. Got about 5 feet away, then sprinted for the side door. Couldn't do it. Perhaps it gave them comfort just to see how many people loved, admired, respected and knew him, but cripes, they don't know me. Why burden them with my grief when that's all I have to give at the moment? I'll get myself together and pay fitting tributes later. Like, for the rest of my life. But right now, I still can't believe it.
After finding out a few more salient details at the funeral and the "wake" reception held by a co-worker, I'm also still officially in that "angry" phase of grief. For instance, apparently all the men on Dale's side of the family had died in their 50's of some sort of heart problem. But he wouldn't go to a doctor. Dammit, Dale! People need you! People depend on you and love you!
I think he must have had inklings, and decided to eat better, but still didn't want to go and get the official prognosis, because it would have just depressed him. In the last 6-8 months it seemed like he was slowly fading away from us, physically and emotionally. I hardly ever saw him, but when I did he barely said "hi" and he looked pale, and gray. I think the last time I saw him, it was crossing Colfax at Grant, him going towards the museum, me going to the gym which is near the office he worked in. I recognized him (barely) and said "hello Dale!" he smiled in recognition and said hello back, and kept quickly walking. I knew he was having stressful times at work and seemed to be withdrawing into himself. Like he just didn't want to be bothered. Maybe this is too much psychoanalysis but this is what people do when someone dies suddenly.
Actually, I'll bet he's doing a big Homer Simpson "doh!" up in heaven right now. And perhaps, St. Peter's giving him a gentle smack upside the head. He's saying, geez louise, I knew my days were numbered, but couldn't I have just a little more time? St. Pete's shaking his head no. "Well pal, if you'd gone to the doctor a year ago like your wife told you to? Maybe. But no."
Apparently this was nothing new, because one time he slipped and fell on the ice and broke his wrist, and didn't go to the doctor then either. Just wrapped it up with Ace bandages and an ice pack for several weeks. It never healed properly, and caused him pain for the rest of his life. But he never complained.
Apparently he had been visiting his mother last Sunday, and left kind of earlier than usual, and it happened while he was walking up to the bus stop. Someone must have seen him collapse, and called an ambulance. Jesus, I hope so.
It was a week ago. Just a week ago.
I have to post this final, hilarious story that Mark Wolfe told at the service, as a tribute to Dale's humour which is what we all appreciated most about him (as well as the encyclopedic knowledge). Mark had left the Colorado SHF office for greener pastures in of all places, Texas, as their new State Historic something or other- in August. Evidently the desk that he had used all these years belonged to him, not the State, and he wanted it shipped down to him as soon as feasible. At his expense of course, but still, kind of a pain for the office staff. So in typical Dale fashion, he makes a big practical joke out of the whole thing. Last Monday, Mark walks into his office bright and early (not having heard anything at the time) to find a medium-sized cardboard box on his desk addressed to him but marked "PERSONAL."
It doesn't weigh a lot, so he opens it cautiously and inside finds... a ransom note, complete with stereotypical magazine-cut-out letters, for his desk. It says basically, give us $500 or you will never see this desk again. DO NOT call the police. He digs down further in the package and finds, in a small plastic baggie, one knob, taken from the desk.
We all hooted and howled with laughter, through our tears. Dale had the last word, and he made us all laugh.
The most poignant part is that then Mark sat down and opened his email as usual, and found out that one of his best friends had died.
There's not a whole lot, funny or unfunny, that can make that better. I don't think many of us want to be "better" just yet. We want to keep on feeling shitty for as long as it takes. We'd like to be the better people that Dale inspired us to be- to have more integrity, a stronger work ethic, more patience with idiots, strive for greater accuracy- but frankly that seems impossible right now. As historians, archaeologists, and human beings, we need to mark the passing of a truly great man, and mourn him properly. It's the end of an era, the Dale Heckendorn era, and none of us know what that means yet except a lot less laughter in the face of adversity.

The Greatest Heist in History, Until Now

When this here Bush (II) administration started carpet-bombing the American public with scandal after scandal as soon as they took office in 2001, I was just as stunned into "shock and awe" as the next person. There was so much scandal coming at us fast and furious, you'd have to be a 5th-degree black belt ninja in scandal to deflect it, much less react to it in a rational way. So I, like many stunned and disgusted Democrats or anyone to the left of Jerry Falwell, thought ok, these assclowns will just fuck themselves right out of a job in a hurry and if they're not impeached by 2003, I'll be a monkey's uncle- but in any case, by 2004 we can all come back to our senses and elect a REAL President.
Then September 11th, 2001 happened- and again, I saw the guilty look on W's face as he mounted that pile of rubble with the firefighters, and thought everybody else saw it too, because gods almighty, you don't need conspiracy theories to know that that happened ON THEIR WATCH. So I still thought, and rightly so, that Moron Jr. and his gang of thugs were on their way out for mishandling everything so badly.
I didn't fully realize what they were up to until 2003, when Chimpy stood on that aircraft carrier's ramp in a flight suit and declared "Mission Accomplished" while people were dying and Osama bin Laden was scampering off to Pakistan or something. And then I got it again when the Abu Ghraib scandal broke. And then again... oh hell, I don't have time to list them all here- but it came to me all of a sudden:
This is exactly what the New Mexico Governors did for something like 5 centuries, right up until Bill Richardson (and I'm still not sure he's clean).
Whether they were appointed by the King of Spain by Royal Decree, or by the Emperor Maximillian by ultra-royal (and yet, illegitimate) decree, or by the many self-appointed Generales or Presidentes who followed, OR (in case you think I'm being racist) by the U.S. Presidents who had to appoint Territorial Governors for the newly annexed Territory of New Mexico from, when class? when? That's right, from the time the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo was signed in 1849 until New Mexico became a state in 1912. And then, after that as well. Their common denominator was that they were all corrupt to the core. Their only aim in "governance," if you could call it that, was to steal as much as they possibly could to benefit themselves and their friends/family and then to escape with their lives, if possible.
It all started after the generation of the conquistadors, when New Spain decided that the Northern Territories (as they were called) weren't really all that, and rather than throw good money and people after bad, they'd concentrate on California which was like a Garden of Eden and much more likely to make them filthy rich.
This is hard to believe today, with real estate prices equaling or exceeding that of Manhattan, but Santa Fe was considered a backwater, and "a little hell-hole" as my New Mexico history professor put it. The northern-most territory of New Spain quickly became its Siberia. It's where bad bureaucrats were sent to die, or to do less harm than they could in the magnificent cities of Guadalajara and Mexico City. So as you might imagine, these bureaucrats who were not the cream of the crop in the first place. In fact they were criminals, but they came from high-ranking families so they couldn't be thrown in jail. These ne'er-do-well sons of rich and powerful people (ringing any bells class? Anyone? Buehler?) in their new posts in Santa Fe proceeded to whine, and bitch, and moan about their poor sad sorry lots in life like nobody's bidness. Meanwhile, they had the natives enslaved, growing immense orchards of fruit and wine-grapes for them, harvesting all the food, basically doing all the work- and with nothing else to do, they wrote letter after letter to the King's Chancellors, Ex-Chequer of Mexico, Cortez- whoever they thought might listen- telling them what a little hell-hole Santa Fe was and how desperately they needed supplies, money, guns, strong young men, etc. because the natives were "uncooperative" and they were all "starving", blah blah blah. None of it was true. We archaeologists who know the REAL story from the undeniable material record, get into fits of hysterics, reading those letters, because those dudes were rollin' in it! Because why? Class? What was their goal? That's right, steal as much as they possibly can to benefit themselves and their friends/family and then escape with their lives, if possible.

In fact, this is a point I love to beat my colleagues over the head with whenever we get into it about the arbitrary difference between what we call "history" in America, and "prehistory." They insist that real history started when the "written record" was introduced to this continent. So, people with writing (aka, Europeans, aka, White People) have real history, and people who weren't that "advanced" don't have anything of worth to even talk about so shut up already. I take sadistic pleasure in pointing out repeatedly how racist and arbitrary and hence, skewed and inaccurate that definition is, and this is one of my favorite examples of WHY. Because PEOPLE LIE. In verbiage, in writing, in their thoughts, ALL THE DAMN TIME. Lying was invented way before writing was, anywhere, and every culture does it. Get this in your heads, class. Now. It WILL be on the test!!
Still think I'm being kinda racist, by implying that all Hispano-americans are inherently corrupt or something? Well, even though my archaeologist friend Angelica, who is from Juchipila, Zacatecas (you can't get much more Mexican than that) told me very matter-of-factly that "el corrupcion es la sciencia de los espanoles" (Corruption is the science of the Spanish)- I'm here to tell you, it got much, much worse after the United States took hold of Nuevo Mexico and started the sendin' the white guys in. HOOO boy, howdy, that's when things really went downhill. The first white Territorial Governors were basically the former "Indian Fighters" like Kit Carson who deserved some kind of reward for herding thousands of Navajos from the Northwest corner of New Mexico to the Southeast corner, and then deciding that was a really bad idea and herding them back, into Arizona. Along the way, a lot of them died. But Carson and his cronies like George Bent were masters of the Santa Fe Trail and all its commerce- they were like big gang bosses essentially, except they would do the bidding of the U.S. Army when it suited them. They made lousy governors. And since there was already this long, upstanding tradition of corruption in Santa Fe and locals seemed to like their traditions- I mean, why buck it? So their stated and unstated goals became, what class? What was that? Can we say it all together? steal as much as they possibly could to benefit themselves and their friends/family and then to escape with their lives, if possible. Long story short, after Carson and Bent, the litany of Territorial Governors reads like a dirty laundry list from a rogue's gallery full of crime and intrigue. The Wikipedia list isn't near complete. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Governors_of_New_Mexico_Territory
Whoever posted this was probably too embarrassed to tell the real story. As you'll notice, the average tenure was like 6 months. If it says "died in office," that means they were killed. So many white guys were offed in the first year by angry mobs, the various U.S. Presidents in charge of filling that post were in the same position as the Mexican Presidentes, various kings, etc. They were scrapin' the bottom of the barrel.
here's another pretty map of Territorial New Mexico, and Utah.
But here's why this story gives me hope. Put' near ALL of the Territorial Governors, thieving, murderous dogs that they were, were run out of town on a rail or sometimes strung up right in that picturesque Santa Fe Plaza you hippies love to hang out in. Thank God. My friend Beth's great-great-grandfather, Samuel Beach Axtell, was one who managed to escape with his life and tell the tale. The U.S. gov't brought him in from Utah Territory thinking he'd be immune to the corruption, as an outsider, which was mostly true, but even he couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar and he fled for his life in the middle of the night on a fast horse before the angry mob, pitchforks, torches and all, came for him. I imagine he headed straight East to Texas, and relative civilization.
"Axtell exhibited good administrative and legislative qualities while Governor of Utah and Representative from California, respectively, but his tenure as Governor of New Mexico would be so inept, a federal agent named Frank Angel would later describe Governor Axtell's administration as having more "corruption, fraud, mismanagement, plots and murder" than any other Governor in the history of the United States. This contributed to the lawlessness that prevailed in much of the territory, and Axtell's inability to understand or combat that problem. He often exhibited dictatorial practices, and when something was wrong, he would blame someone else." (Wikipedia)
Sound familiar?
Here's the hopeful part. It wasn't political rivals who came for them, by and large, it was the people. People had the power then, exploited and enslaved and oppressed as they were- people damn sure have the power now. Not that I am in any way advocating violence.
I guess the difference with today's gang is that incompetents were purposefully chosen, (Mike "heckuva job" Brown, college roommate of one of Bush's pals) and told to screw things up as much as possible, so that people get the impression that government never works and we should get rid of it/privatize everything.
Mark my words, that is the end goal. They are now trying to pull off the greatest heist in human history. Not just what's in the Treasury now, but what might be in the Treasury for a few generations to come. Make no mistake, this is a stick-up. This time, the Shock and Awe is coming from Wall Street, the Weapons of Mass Destruction are the credit banks and the mortgage banks, threatening to implode and take us all down with them if we don't do what they say.
Send money, guns, and young men, and quickly! The natives are at my door! (yes, they're bringing you your apricot wine, like you asked, Senor....)
Same thing.
It's another big, fat, whopping lie.
yawn.
Don't fall for it.

On a side note, this monkey business didn't end with Statehood for New Mexico. Ohhhh no. Because what is their stated goal, class? One more time? oh yeah- steal as much as they possibly could to benefit themselves and their friends/family and then to escape with their lives, if possible. And it continues to this day, down to the smallest State bureaucrat in that 3rd world country to the South of me (even the secretary of graduate studies at UNM who held my NSF Fellowship-winning roommate's new computer hostage for months, trying to figure out a way she could profit from it)- but my favorite stories are from the "governor" who presided when I lived there, and that's "gov'nr" Gary Johnson. He was so incredibly bad and inept, NPR did a TWO-HOUR long special on his amazing badness. The theme was, the same backdrop I've set for you, that he even out-badded the Territorial Governors, and the lying ne'er-do-well hidalgos from the Colonial days. In 1994 he ran on a platform of "reform", and smaller government. He had no political experience, just ran a huge commercial construction company that his father-in-law handed him. You guessed it, he was actually a Libertarian in Republican clothing. Within a month of taking office, he had done two things that crack me up to this day: First thing, he dissolved a whole helluva lotta state agencies because he found them "unnecessary," e.g. they provided essential regulatory services that "got in the way of business." This included the Livestock Inspection stations which are positioned at points of entry on all four sides of New Mexico (*as well as most of the rest of the State agriculture Department). He said, "New Mexico beef is the finest in the world! Everyone should trust us and take our word for it!" The next day, all those livestock inspection people who had voted for him lost their jobs. And the guy who was the head of the USDA at the time, the agency that requires all states to have these livestock inspection stations, was like, "Uhhhmmmm, okay, you can do that I guess, but we're going to have to treat you like a foreign country now. And you will have to pass much stricter regulations and standards, because you are behaving like a foreign country, with exotic foodstuffs." Gov'r Johnson quickly and quietly reversed course and stationed like one guy, whom he probably found at "Rent-A-Livestock-Inspector" for $5 an hour, at each port-of-entry.
The next thing was even better- he also ran on a platform of getting the Indian gaming under control because white people were getting totally pissed off that the goddam 'Ndns were finally getting some money, and power, and fighting for their rights- so the next thing he did in office was try and shut down all the Indian casinos except for a few roulette wheels or something. He started with the Pueblo of Pojoaque, which is close to Santa Fe and had just opened a spankin' brand new casino and had plans for even more. The highway that runs from Santa Fe to Espanola (and on up to Bandelier, Los Alamos, Chimayo- all that tourist stuff) runs right through Pojoaque land, and several other pueblos for that matter. The Pojoaque Tribal Council had been expecting some shenanigans like this and they were ready. They said, okay white boy, you could do that but uhm, you realize that we are a sovereign nation and your State highway runs through our land at our discretion- so we'll just have to shut down that highway and turn it into a toll road to make up for the lost revenue.
We'll be nice - we'll only charge oh, maybe 8, 10 dollars a car.
Gov'nr Johnson quickly and quietly reversed course and promised never to bother them again, if they let him live. They did. And yet, somehow, he was re-elected. Go to NPR, check out the archives... or I'll try to find it... it's a fantabulous story.

FEAR NOT, PARTE DOS! (but FYI, shotguns are on sale at Kmart...)

I've been staggering back and forth between abject fear and laughing-my-ass-off indifference for the past two weeks, much like the frat boys who run Wall Street have been staggering around for the past 30 years. But they have an excuse. They've been drunk.
When I say Fear Not, mis amigos, I don't say it lightly. I'm not saying "Don't worry, be happy" (aka, go ahead and do those farewell drugs). I know there is plenty to fear out there, plenty of reason to fear, plenty of conspiracy theories to conjure up that would scare the pants off a Vietnam Vet, plenty of bad past behavior that tends to predict future behavior. As a momma bear I have to listen to my instincts about protecting myself and my family, and PLAN for the best hopeful outcome at the same time. Fortunately for us women, multi-tasking is not difficult. Por ejemplo: While talking to Randi Rhodes on her show about how awesome the DNC and Obama and everything was going to be, I was filling up my emergency 5-gal water bottles. Juuuuuusssssst in case. True Story.
So. These past two weeks have been like cold-water slapped in the face after a wwweeeeee bit too long stewing in the old de-regulation jacuzzi. Ahhhhhhh... What a relief. I mean, it's kind of a relief when the shit finally hits the fan, isn't it? For more than 2 years now we've been waiting, biting our nails for this moment, when the biggest banks the world has ever known would collapse under their own irresponsible, monopoly-money weight, and then not even ask or beg politely to be bailed out, nay, but DEMAND that we bail out their sorry asses and NOW with no oversight, just hand over the money bitches!!
My first response is kinda Goodfellas, as in "Fuck YOU, pay me." The next response comes from my redneck half (that's my dad's side) which is grab the guns and bar the door. Those muthafrakkers come for your house, your farm, your car, your dog- I think you have every right to pull a shotgun on them at close range and use whatever catchphrase suits you. All of them translate to, "Nuh-uh."
In this sense, I have so much in common with my Republican brother-in-law, it's not even funny. He's been preparing for this day since he was oh, about 10, maybe younger, when his father was killed in an industrial accident and he was suddenly "man of the house." Make no mistake, I have respect for the guy. He knows how to hunt, and he pretty much walks his talk, which is un-sanctimonious, and generous to a fault with those he loves. With no college education, he's a hard worker, well respected in his field, and pretty damn smart. (and somewhat ironically, a proud union member).
Which is why I cannot allow him to vote for Grampy McSame.
Or, which is why it totally pisses me off that despite everything, EVEN THIS, he WILL vote for John McSame.
Let me back up a bit and explain why I'm writing this blog. Last weekend we went up to Greeley to visit the nephew for Family Day at UNC, where nephew just started. yaay, nephew!! We're so proud! Also we went for the brunch buffet which included all-you-can-eat prime rib and waffles. *Very good, I might add, since the cow came from right down the street. Driving up there through Adams and Weld Counties via Hwy 85, you get a very clear sense very early on that you are no longer in Obama Territory. Greeley is a friendly enough town, despite the slaughterhouse and stockyards, but getting up there is like crossing through No-Man's-Land for us progressives. Don't expect me to launch into a hilarious travelogue here that basically gets me cheap laughs at the expense of rural people and their culture, that's not what I'm here for. Like I said, half of me is redneck, from the smallest of towns in South Dakota for chrissake, and there's a reason this mutual hatred/contempt/disdain divide is growing in America- I don't need to add to it, and don't see the point.
Drive through any rural county that's adjacent to a major metropolitan area in America, and you'll see that this election is as much about Country vs. City, as it is Black vs. White, and Rich vs. Poor. There's a reason McSame picked a small-town mayor from a largely rural state who touts "small-town values" and loves to hunt, ride dirt bikes, do meth, etc. It's because of this divide, which has been nurtured and allowed to grow for the past 8 years (or I would say, 28), built on a false notion that country mice and city mice are fundamentally "diff'ernt" as my grandmother would say (god rest her soul), and therefore "other" and therefore easily, "enemy."

(this is a cute picture to keep you interested, break up the text, and display my happy-dance moves.)
So in many ways, I totally empathize with the country mindset, but I can't claim it.
Which brings me to my original point. My brother-in-law will vote for McCain no matter what I say, because yes, it's his last stand so to speak, at least philosophically. The anthropologist in me ponders these things and comes up with what me & my colleagues have always come up to explain inexplicable behavior in groups of humans, behavior that is against their own best interest, behavior that is self-destructive: People don't want to admit that they're wrong.
(if this blog were a talkshow, instead of "Ah-ha!" moments, I would have "Duh" moments, and that was one of them.) Duh. Big dog double duh.
I mean, really, really, REALLY don't want to admit that they're wrong. Like, ever.
Not even when they're going over that cliff, headfirst, and the guy who they thought was their best friend PUSHED them and is now laughing his ass off up top, and holding your wallet, as well as your pants, because he ripped them off you first and told you this was skinny dippin'. They'll be yellin', "see you at the lake, Mac!" as they plunge 10,000 feet to their doom.
That's right, many people would literally rather die, than admit they're wrong.
Rural people especially don't want to feel like they're being told that their entire way of life is wrong, because they already get that feeling from pop culture. But they are by far, not the only ones. There's about 20% of people who cannot or will not bring themselves to think for a moment that even PART of their worldview might be based on false premises. That don't want to be told that it's not okay to be racist and it NEVER was. They don't want to hear that their behavior is inherently sexist and needs to change. They don't want to know that their old one-ton pickup truck is causing the polar icecaps to melt and maybe they should switch to biodiesel (grow your own!)
However,John McSame knows that rural people in pertickler feel picked on, and that's why he's telling them that they are right, for once. His message is that there's nothing wrong with being racist, or sexist, or extremely religion-ist, or a fun-lovin', atv-drivin', gun-totin' redneck. yeeha! That's what Ammurrka is all about, right?
So for the sake of pride, and ego, and saving face, this same 20% of the American population (most of them, my family) will vote for John McCain. It will be their last act of defiance as they're dragged, not into "that good night" but into the dawn of a new era. And once they get there, they will find plenty of hard work to please their spirits and plenty to be proud of, but precious little to whine about.
Especially taxes.
So this is what my sister-in-law brings up, as we're tucking in to our lovely roast beest and peppering the freshman nephew with questions; Taxes. I made a sarcastic comment that it wouldn't bother me too much if bro-in-law's (her husband, did I mention?) absentee ballot got lost in the mail. She replied, well at least he researches the issues, unlike most people who just see a commercial and then decide. I mumbled something about anyone who did a lick of research would know that McSame is not on their side. She retorted (and this is rare for her) that Bro-law would probably say the same about me, and didn't I realize that other people with different upbringings, religions, and income brackets would just not want to pay higher taxes? I looked at her like, HUH? Both eyebrows arched to the utmost. I started to say, uh, no, that's never made any sense to me and besides Obama's plan would give way more tax breaks to the middle class while Grampy's basically just continues the cornholing, but older, but she rattled off some more platitudes about "isn't it great that people can disagree in this country and still live together" while I checked her cranberry juice for drugs.
Perhaps I should direct her to my other blog, "No longer the difference between Coke and Pepsi." Or perhaps not.
No, I don't get the whining about taxes, because it's just that, a whine. It's a cover for people who can't bring themselves to vote for a black man, because in their hierarchical little brains, that puts a black man Above them somehow, and they can't have that.
They would literally rather die, and see their children sold into slavery for the Chinese, than admit they've been bamboozled, lied to, raped and then forced to pay for the rape kit- than vote for change.
So still, fear not, Obama will be President, and it will be great, but not perfect. We'll have a lot more of those Waco-style compounds springing up as the right-wing voters refuse to participate in the rebuilding of America and instead wall themselves off rather than admit that a black man is President, or place themselves in any way "subservient" to him. This is unfortunate, but may be a necessary step in our evolution as a country. Bruce the psychological-guy explains to me that integrally speaking, these people are still in the "orange" phase where everything's a hierarchy and the person "above" you is not your friend unless they look, act and talk just like you. We anthropologists have a better way of explaining it: they're operating from the lizard brain, or the reptilian cortex, which in more common terms houses the ego, and that great sin of pride. But this time, I sure hope no one gets killed. Especially children.
Fear Not! means having courage and an open, generous heart even in these difficult times. We can't mock those who aren't at our integral-level-of-consciousness yet (it's green, by the way). We need to let them know that our invitation to the Global Tiki Party of Hope is always open, come as you are. Bring the kids, bring the family! We need to SHOW them how much fun the new way is going to be aside from just preaching it. We need to empathize and agree that this Oil-Death Culture had everyone in a trance so that it was damn near impossible to even imagine another way of life. We need to let them know that they do have skills, and brains, and gifts to bring, and that we need those gifts. We need all the help we can get.
We also need to let them know, in no uncertain terms, that whining about your taxes when you're already rich, and on top of social heap, when people are dying, children are starving in our country or can't go to school, and close to half of all Americans have no reliable healthcare, and basically the corporations are drilling all of US, right here right now, - is totally unacceptable. Refuse to listen to that whine. Tell them "we are better than this" if you have to.
Yes, switching over and retooling our economy and entire way of life is going to be difficult, but as an anthropologist, I know we can do it. Not just hope, I KNOW WE CAN. Switch every building over to solar power in ten years? I KNOW we can. Switch and re-tool every car over to electric, which is powered by solar? Impossible? nay! I KNOW we can do it. Restore the wetlands along the entire Gulf Coast so that hurricanes are absorbed the way Nature intended? That's a big, muddy task but I KNOW we can do it. Try out s'more seemingly impossible tasks in your head, roll them around a little bit, let go of "how things are" right now, and see if you don't come up with KNOWING that we can do this.
Joe Strummer had a great quote on his radio show that I wish I had a soundbite of to play right now. He basically said, with a tone of wonder in his voice, "People can do ANYTHING. We're truly amazing. Anything they put their minds to- ANYTHING! Cure a disease, feed everyone, build the most amazing buildings on Earth- anything! And most people spend their lives telling themselves the lie they've heard from someone else- that they can't do it, that things are impossible, that no one can save the world. It's nonsense. It's simply not true."
I think I'll end with that. :)

FEAR NOT!

The DNC response to the Palin nomination:
http://s3.amazonaws.com/0SAJ7JN5VFAWT249NNR2.anigifdel/52655a293dd83d8907715bb13c7dc39d

I forgot to post that at the top of my last blog. Couldn't get the html for it, so click on that link! and laugh, heartily!

So anyway, now that we've all had a good laugh about this, let me break it down in more scientific, anthropological terms for everyone.
John McCain is really fockin' old.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22759611/ Even Chuck Norris says so, and I didn't realize he was still alive. (didn't he have a Death Wish, VI?)
Their campaign would be pathetic no matter who the Republican empty-suit was, put up to follow this legacy of corrupt liars thieves and murderers, but it's especially pathetic because after 26 years in the Senate, 8 of them voting in lockstep with Bush and ignoring the personal damage Rove inflicted on his family, he now has to pretend that he has nothing to do with the Bush administration. That he is, in fact, a "maverick" just because he says so, and boy, so does everyone else! Even on Fox! Where ya know, they're like "Fair and Balanced" and all. heh hehe.]
Everyone knows McCain is old, and tired, and most people also know that he is incredibly boring, all at the same time. Along with the boring old-man grumpiness, he's got that crotchety old man temper, which shows up every so often when he calls his pill-popping heiress wife a "cunt" in front of reporters and scolds her for dressing like a trollop. Whoa! That's some maverick marital action right there! Exciting! Nothing like my grandfather at all!
Oh wait- except it is a bit like one of my grandfathers, who was a raging alcoholic and couldn't hold a job and would come home and beat his wife and 12 children, until his wife got rid of him by blacklisting him as a Communist. Go Grandma! Wooo! Since he was living in exile in Seattle, I never met him, but still I'm pretty sure we don't want a President like that.
He's not only old, he's had every type of skin cancer you can think of, and has to get checked like, every week to make sure his dormant carcinomas don't implode or eat him alive. Not to be mean, but, christ almighty is that a nasty way to die. Apparently you can only stave it off for so long before it comes back FOR GOOD. And being the Senator from Arizona... welll... let's just say it's really hard to avoid the sun and mingle with your constituents at the same time (not that he ever does.)
Anyway.
This Palin puta is their proverbial last gasp of desperation/false hope. The glimmer will fade in a couple days, and the nails will be in their campaign coffin sometime after the VP debate. During which, Joe Biden will wipe the floor with her, while simultaneously giving her opportunities to dig herself out of the privy her "verbage" is in, because he's a gent. But she'll fail to take any of those opportunities to save herself, because she's so dumb and narrow-minded she wouldn't know a debating opportunity if it came up and bit her flabby ass, and left lipstick marks.
So let them have their moment of false hope, let them exult in their new "chicky la-la" as one conservative caller from Colorado Springs put it (on the Randi Rhodes show) and round about Halloween.... I think it will become obvious who's going to win this election in a landslide.
As Randi herself said, I just can't take this here McCain-Palin "campaign" seriously at all, and therefore you shouldn't take their supporters too seriously. Go ahead and laugh in their faces, but then clap them on the back and offer to buy them a beer, because the truth is, they know they need one.
Oh and do this too, because it's hilarious:
http://politsk.blogspot.com/2008/09/sarah_13.html
This has been CHOP METH PALIN, signing off....

You Can Put Lipstick on a Pig-fokker, but it's Still a Pig-fokker.

Or as someone posted on a Newsweek comment page, "You can put lipstick on a filthy, lying, power abusing religious zealot, its still a republican."

Obama Has too Much Class to Call Sarah Palin a Pig , So I Will.
Sarah Palin is a the pig-fokkers' whore, a lying sack of pigshit, and Queen Pig of Hypocrites. She is also a lousy mother. And, it goes without saying, guns or no, I could completely kick her ass.


Miss-Informed for VP '08!
I'm not running for President of anything, so I can say these things. At least, for 50 -some more days I can. I'm posting this picture of her to illustrate a couple things, but the main one is that I want people to see FO' REAL how totally ludicrous it is to even imagine this woman as Vice President.
Take a good, hard look. Laughing yet? I am. Because while I realize that 20% of the American population is creamin' their jeans at the thought of this nasty bitch being in power, the rest of us are having a hard time taking this seriously. And that's as it should be. I've gotten a deluge of emails from every non-profit advocacy group I belong to or has my email address- from environmental to pro-choice to human rights, all are saying/screaming the same thing: Don't dismiss her as fluff! Be afraid! Be very afraid! Gads, ya know, I'm trying to empathize and do the right thing- but whilst searching my feelings (as Old Ben Kenobi advised me to do) - I certainly didn't come up with FEAR. Anywhere. On. The. List. Snorts of derision? Yes. Contempt? Check. Disgust with hypocrisy? You bet.
And really NARAL, NOW, Human Rights Watch- I'm surprised at you! Have you forgotten the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood's Litany Against Fear? You have? Ok I'll repost it for all to see:
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
Say that a few times, breathe. Let the fear seep out of you. Let the little Zen half-smile play about your lips.



And git to visualizin' peeple! As my friend jen said so aptly, "Worry is praying for things you don't want." So without getting too hooky-dooky woo-woo on ya, let's concentrate on visualizing / praying for the things we DO want. Which is, if I'm not mistaken, Obama as President, Biden as his right-arm/bulldog, and the rest of us getting to the happy warrior work of turning this country around and getting it back on track. And thereby, saving the world. I've said this before a few times but I'll say it as often as necessary until the positive result is achieved.

Do whatever positive visualization works for you.
With this one, it's now including a defeated, humiliated Sarah Palin being impeached or recalled by the Alaskan citizens who used to "love" her, now disgusted by all the corruption, malfeasance, and double-talk coming out of her office.
On the other hand, I've been having visions and dreams for a few months now about the Obama family residing in the White House. Doing normal, everyday, Presidential things like waving to crowds and reporters as they disembark from Marine One on the South Lawn, the girls having sleep-overs and birthday parties at their place, Michelle Obama smudging the West Wing with tons of sacred sage to get the evil voodoo vibes out...oh but the best one was the dream I had of Barack Obama sitting at the desk in the Oval Office for the first time, smiling, joking, flashbulbs going off, Biden patting him on the back as he sat down, generally a happy, hopeful atmosphere.
That's a dream we don't need to wake up from. Also, in the background was Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground." Did i mention that already? That needs to be the Inaugural Ball theme, for real.
So I've had quite enough of the fear-mongering, thank you, and I think the American people are done with it too.
This doesn't mean, however, that I'm going to quit making fun of Sarah Palin, or pointing out their rank hypocrisy and flip-flops, and whorish daughters.
OH no. That's just par for the course. But I won't do it because I'm AFRAID of her, no, I'll do it because we all seriously need to laugh at the whole pathetic joke of the McCain campaign every damn day, and heartily, with gusto.
Besides if you have the hubris to accept the nomination as VP while knowing that you don't have a lick of experience or intelligence or character or judgment to do the job- to me that just screams, "bring it on!"


(An Open Letter to Sarah Palin Inc. that hasn't been vetted by Charlie Gibson)
"So you preach abstinence-only sex education and then your 17-year-old daughter gets knocked up by the local hockey jock. Hmmm. But you're proud of this, because it's YOUR daughter, and she's white, and christian, not like those unwashed brown heathens who are having too many kids they can't support. Hmmm. I've given this a lot of thought over the past week, searched my feelings thoroughly, and after quite a few snorts of derision and giggles of disbelief, I've decided that you can go fuck yourself and the horse you rode in on, bitch. That's right. I've been called a whore by the likes of you smug, self-righteous hypocritical bastard pieces of shit since about 1993, when Newt Gingrich & Co. hijacked Congress and declared war on the American people. That would include anyone who disagreed with him and his extremist, right-wing views, and that would include most women. Even nuns. Suddenly every female who thought they had the inherent right to control their own bodies and make their own life decisions were called stupid, dirty, filthy whores. So, right back atcha. And then some.
I don't wish ill for your daughter and her future child, because she's already in a world of hurt with a mother like you. And then there's your first-born son, shipping out for Iraq right now because.. he's such a big patriot, right? At the age of 18, he's decided that this Occupation in the Middle East is totally awesome and he wants a piece of it? No? It's actually because he got caught stealing liquor and vandalizing school buses in Wasilla, and law enforcement gave him the choice: either join the Army, or go to jail? Ohhhhhh.... well that's different. So how is Track? Oh you don't know, because he won't even be seen with you these days? Haven't spoken in months? Sounds like the lad's got a good head on his shoulders, and the Army might straighten him out. Since I've been estranged from my parents for going on 8 years now, let me tell you something straight: kids don't kick off their parents for whiny little reasons. The reason usually is, in some shape or form, that they realize their parents are big-ass liars and don't love them at all, and probably won't ever change. So rather than put up with the lies and bullcrap and let it damage them into adulthood, they "divorce" themselves from your narcissistic b.s. and make their own way. Looking back, I wish I had been as smart as Track and joined the Navy or something, at his age.
Then there's the middle kids, who haven't really done anything criminal yet, but there's still time. Oh and another thing about my lying-ass, abusive parents: crazy and messed up as they were, they would have considered themselves total failures as parents if one of us had ended up either pregnant or in jail. We didn't, in spite of them. You've got two kids doing both, and it doesn't seem to faze you. And apparently, that's just the tip of your narcissistic iceberg, because you just accepted the potential job of being VP for the most powerful country on Earth, only 4 months after giving birth to a special needs child. Whoa.
Again, here's something I can spout off on because I have a little experience in this area. Even with my PERFECT (physically and mentally) baby girl, it was the most difficult thing I've ever done to drag my ass back to work 3 months after she was born, and my job is basically educated DATA ENTRY. More difficult than pulling 20-hour shifts fighting forest fires, more difficult than taking care of my dad and brother, as a child, after one of my mom's numerous suicide attempts, more difficult even, than putting myself through college by working 3 jobs and finishing it all in 2.5 years flat. At least in college, there were the occasional margarita breaks.
And one of those jobs, during and after college, happened to be working with special needs children. Down's Syndrome kids especially. HOLY GODS ALMIGHTY but do they need a lot of early intervention, intensive care, and real love, not fake love.
No, you can't do it well and skin a moose at the same time, let alone be Vice President. Nope. Can't be done. You have to make a choice, a moral choice, and it's clear that time and time again, you've chosen your career and unholy ambition above all else. This makes you and McCain perfect for each other http://www.snopes.com/politics/mccain/carol.asp
but, that alone should tell people something about you.
Not that they should be afraid of you, but quite the opposite. They should openly scoff at your phoniness, your hypocrisy, and your corruption of spirit, and they should do so without fear of being called "sexist" or "mean."
So Miss Runner-Up 1984, you may be the redneck's wet dream of a VP candidate, a politician he can put a pin-up of in the garage and whack off to while the Star Spangled Banner blares from his monster truck speakers- but the rest of us will be smiling and waving from the Winner's Circle, which is known as the Oval Office in this case. That's right bitch, I've never been no "runner-up", I've always been The Queen.