Tagged: women
We Are Trump’s Loving Wife
The classic American marriage contains the beautiful scene of a husband unexpectedly finding that his wife has granted permission to “go big”.
My favorite illustration of this was captured by a commercial, some years ago, where after the husband puts the new big screen TV into the TV stand, he stands back, admiring his TV. The wife walks in and is not immediately impressed.
Baffled, and fearing the worst, he asks her, with trepidation, “What?”
She answers, “It’s just that there is a lot of…space.”
The scene continues with the husband microscopically examining the fit of the new bigger screen TV. He is squinting and running his hand along border between the TV and the TV stand. His wife comes in this time, and is visibly strained.
She says, “It is fine.”
He responds and concludes the anecdote with, “I can still see light!”
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As you no doubt have seen, there are red/blue county maps of America making their way around the web and one headline I saw claimed, “There are no blue states.”
Translation: there are blue counties in otherwise red states, and there are states composed entirely of red counties.
Implication: All of the United States of America, not merely the 75,000,000 voters and electoral college, just told Trump, like a loving wife, “Treat yourself!”
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Yes, that’s the best analogy of the passing scene, I should think.
Time To Turn Off the TV
I know you don’t agree. I know you don’t. That is the point of this post. There is no topic more detestable to humanity of all stripes than the notion of turning off the TV—and any meaningfully similar source of information.
Yes, I’m happy Trump won. But not for anything to do with politics. I’m happy because while all the republicans and conservatives were wringing their hands, I said over and over that he had it in the bag. And so when I was proved correct, I was happy.
But every moment since then, I have been questioned by friends and family and had my good name challenged because I am not happy that Trump won for the same reason as they are.
I do not believe he is some sort of savior. I do not believe we’ll see a reversion to some past life when groceries were cheap and rule of law was respected and understood. I just don’t see national politics from that kind of perspective.
But the point of this post, again, is to explore that when I share my perspective, which boils down to, “You’re all Henny Penny and if you would just turn off the TV, you’d have profound improvement in your ‘flourishing’,” folks lose their shyat on me. It’s like I’m asking them to give up—not just food but—breathing.
I actually resorted to telling my Ethiopian/African wife (you’ll-understand-this-if-viewed-from-well-known-they’re-more-spiritual-vantage-point), “You love to talk about demons as if it’s still Biblical times—well when it comes to our attachment to TV, I agree. This situation seems at the level that an exorcism may be necessary.” Perhaps unbelievably, this did get through—in its moment.
So I think I’m done. I already do not have a TV at the house. I have cut movie watching drastically back (difficult to cut completely because night work leaves a lot of zombie time during the day). But I’ve been checking news like a junkie of late. It’s time to stop that now. And why? Because, as an human without TV, I can happily report, “The sky is not a-falling.”
Watch and Wait
The only thing left to do before the results are declared is watch and wait.
Specifically, we’re watching for the dems to start crafting the inevitable “why we lost” narrative. This is no different than when watching a sports championship and the time is ticking down and the announcers become more cognizant that it is not time to keep saying, “There’s a chance!”, but instead time to say, “It’s looks like it’s gonna take more than…”
Everyone is too self-aware that the internet is forever to keep up the charade until the very end. The end was a long time back. Now we watch and wait.
“So You Wasted Your Vote”
I didn’t get to conclude my, “I wrote in a candidate, which by the way is not as simple as you may think-” before my acquaintance dismally uttered, “So you wasted your vote.”
Just like that, I found myself neutered. The man behind the knife was Puerto Rican, incidentally, and didn’t seem to be in the mood to let the joke pass without consequence (which I have to say the joke has gotten funnier with age—go watch it again if you need a pick-me-up). This means he isn’t voting for Trump either.
But I didn’t take away his manhood when I learned his position. So I count that as indicative of my winning the moral moment.
This post is ultimately about the meaninglessness of all our ballots and the meaningfulness of right action. But first I want to record, for posterity, how a write-in vote works.
- There are only specific candidates who can be inked in. These folks had to essentially apply for the opportunity and you can google your state to see the options. (I may actually run one year. Seems like a bucket list thing to me.)
- In Colorado, the law says you have to write in the last name of both the president and vice-president for the vote to count. (I believe the full names would be fine, too. But the space is limited, and since this is mostly an exercise in futility, let’s not draw it out.) So be sure to read the instructions on write-in voting in full.
- Here’s my ballot.
Okay. Back to the debate. Just about everyone on the continent tells me that I wasted my vote. I contend that I did not waste my vote in any sense different than you “wasted” yours. And I counter that it is foolish to believe that if you vote for Trump or Harris you have somehow not wasted your vote, somehow spoken in a more effective language. Or contributed to democracy or the country more than me. Or you have accomplished some civic duty, which I have not.
No, no, no. That’s wrong.
Don’t hear me suggest “fatalism”. I do not dryly believe “what’s going to happen is going to happen.” Please do hear me when I say your actions during this one, seemingly absolutely critical moment in time do not weigh more than your actions during all the other moments. I think I mean this in the biblical sense, introduced by the psalmist and highlighted by my namesake, “one day is like a thousand years, a thousand years like one day.” In short, all our votes are wasted because the notion of voting necessarily implies an incorrect perspective on life—even the life of a country.
Another way to talk about this point of mine that I here offer is to reminisce about the “How did we get here?” question that is terribly fun to debate.
I have yet to hear anyone suggest we got here because of folks’ past voting records (here being these two candidates, after the last two, after the last two, ad infinitum). Instead, the answers given are more provocative. “Education” (or lack thereof). “Immigration.” “Wars.” “Immorality.” “Russia” (meaning anywhere from the theory they have intentionally and strategically taken over the universities to the direct influence on elections). And many, many others. “Welfare.” “Military Industrial Complex.” “End times.” “Democracies only last 250 years, give or take.” Bluntly, then, I mean that if we do not cite our past votes in our answers to “how we got here?”, how could our votes ever be “how we achieve” whatever goal (political or otherwise) towards which we aim?
In the end, no, by writing in, I did not waste my vote any more than you did, you who chose one of the two candidates who possess a proper chance at winning. (Trump has it in the bag, never forget that.) So dismount your high horse, Citizen, and rest assured that in the not too distant future I will be lounging like a tree near streams of water with the knowledge that I didn’t let myself get caught up in the hype anymore than I did for Black Jesus (or Bush or Biden…).
This election is another referendum on how you (we) live your life. It should be interpreted as yet another instance of divine compassion. We’re mucking things up for sure down here. But Voting for Trump or Harris (or anyone) does not change your character. And believing that it does betrays a fundamental flaw in your understanding of life.
Vote or don’t vote, I don’t care. But I do care that you shape up. Turn off the TV. Use the newfound free time to exercise your mind, body, and spirit. The battle rages.
A Little Time Means A Lot Of Focus and Politics is Personal
As election day draws near, I cannot deny that my resolve not to vote for Trump began to waiver. Colorado is solidly blue, so a Trump vote would certainly be a wasted vote. Still, I was starting to feel like it would be fun to tell the grandkids that I was part of the unforeseen popular majority.
As I voted today, I just couldn’t do it. And with time running out, the underlying reason finally surfaced. (I don’t know why I didn’t see this happening; it always does. We veterans prefer working under pressure for the clarity it brings.)
The reason I can’t vote for Trump is because I can’t vote for Republicans. The Republicans were in power during 9/11. They had a chance to accomplish what no humans have yet accomplished, and they blew it—including wasting my time and energy by sending me to Iraq in response.
9/11 should have been used to relegate the false god Allah to the myths and legends section of libraries and bookstores. And the only way to do that is make supporting him deadly—which can be done directly or indirectly, but with intention, nonetheless. So many gods have perished. This shouldn’t be controversial. Instead, and unconscionably, the supposedly great Republican party* decided to lie and wage irrelevant (and illegal) wars under the guise of satisfying all interested players and offending no one.
So, no, I won’t buy into the same system that made that category mistake. Nations are okay, but gods are where the action is at.
Anyhow, I know my opinion is unpopular. So it’s not like I expected to find some candidate who wanted to lead and win the coming Holy War. But I also can’t vote for people who have had the opportunity to do so and dropped the ball. So I found the rules for write-in votes (you can’t just vote for anyone) and there is some random unaffiliated and normal looking citizen that satisfied the requirements for Colorado’s ballot and I voted for him. In other words, literally any average citizen is better than Trump/Harris and the major (and minor) parties. His name is Chris Garrity. Best of luck, man.
In short, with time drawing to a close, I have just now realized that, for me, politics is personal.
*To be clear, the Dems would have done no different.
The Preacher Said, “Joy Cometh in the Morning” in Today’s Service. Was It Code Today?
This morning was my last morning with the Black Baptists before the election. (I work next Sunday.) Going in, I was curious what kind of political talk we’d hear. For the past several Sundays, the gist was always “Trump bad,” but never quite “Kamala good.” And Baptist preachers wouldn’t be Baptist preachers if they didn’t say, “Vote!”
Today’s service had two political moments. The first occurred way before the sermon, during a fairly random reading of a Black History Experience. I don’t recall the exact words, but I remember smiling as the lady said something about how important this election was.
I thought, “Hype!! It’s all hype. She’s a sucker. No different than at this Super Bowl or during these playoffs ‘we are witnessing something never before seen!’ It’s all hype. Don’t fall for it.”
The second moment requires a brief reminder. There are many sayings or scriptures or proverbs which the Black Baptists all around the country utter at least once during each Sunday service. “But early, EARLY Sunday morning…” is one. Another is, “God loves…a cheerful giver.” A third is, “You can’t out-give God.” Another is, “He woke you up this morning!” Another is, “As the old saints used to say…”
The one in question, and behind this post is, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
Seriously. If a woman who has seen five or more decades and survived at least one round of cancer doesn’t say this into a microphone, with perfect timing and emphasis on “But Joy!!…comes in the morning,” then you weren’t at a Baptist church.
Today, however, the sermon was essentially a Stephen-esque recounting of all it took for Moses to strike the rock rather than speak to it. Then, as the capstone, she delivered the somehow never-tired, “Remember, weeping may endure for a night,” (wait for it) “But JOY comes in the morning.”
It was code. It was so clearly code. “Vote Kamala—the candidate of JOY. And stop worrying. The LORD won’t let him win.” Had she said it at any other time in the story, I wouldn’t have even noticed it. But it was delivered with an ever-so-slightly-out-of-place force, an ever-so-slight amount of “indulge me, Saints” that I am certain it was meant as a Gilead-made balm to the community.
My aforementioned Ethiopian wife didn’t see it that way.
What do you think?
Kamala Is Not A Grandma
The politically incorrect trolls are having a field day with Kamala’s “as a parent” response. People or bots are correctly pointing out that she is not a parent, but their implied reason is invalid.
Kamala Harris has no children of her own, and she met her step-children when they were 15 & 19 (or thereabouts). But CNN’s question was about the last 4 years, which means while the step-children were 21-25 and 26-30 years old. And Kamala was 56-60.
There’s more. The whole “make mistakes while parenting” is relatable when you and your children are young. If Donald Trump, while 70 and Barron 10, delivered the quip, it may produce laughs, but it still wouldn’t accomplish the purpose Kamala sought the other night.
But all of this is missing the bigger point.
This woman is 60 yrs old. That makes her twenty plus years into being capable of being a grandma and she is suggesting she is a mom making mistakes. The lie she told is her age, not her family status.
Donald Trump, the most misogynistic presidential candidate in recent history, is going to beat the first two women candidates, and why? Because Kamala lied about her age. Why? Because she’s a woman and lives in reality after all.
Trump’s Not A Horse in A Building; He’s James Bond
My brother was the first to share with me the humorous analysis that watching Trump was like watching a horse inside a building—it’s off-putting, but everything is probably gonna be okay.
But the more I watch Trump, the more I am sure that the creature he is most similar to is James Bond.
If you haven’t watched one of the films recently, please do so before reacting argumentatively to this idea.
The general highlights of the two characters’ similarities are the neat suit, and the humor—often some kind of sexual innuendo, as was on display yesterday. There is also, at this point, on full display for the entire nation and world, a remarkable ability to land on their feet.
And if you haven’t watched the McDonald’s clips, you owe it to yourself to track some down. A beautiful lady pulls up to the window, and Trump says aloud, “You’re a beautiful woman.” A tough looking large man pulls up to the window, and Trump says aloud, “Wow, I wouldn’t want to mess with you.”
“And you are?”
“Trump. Donald Trump.”
Is It Possible that They Are Mad Because They Couldn’t Control Him?
Many American Generals are saying some outrageous things about Trump as this election cycle dashes to the finish. Is it possible these high-ranking men are mad because they couldn’t control Trump?
There are reports that General Mattis allegedly slept in his gym clothes in case he got a call to come in overnight.
“What do you want to discuss now, my favorite color?”
Is fate so unkind as to hinge nuclear attack on the time it takes to change clothes?
I doubt it.
More believable is these generals, regardless the character they exhibited along their climb to political power, became persuaded that they were anointed and Trump was not.
I’m sorry, but I do not live in a country where the defense secretary’s pajamas are a matter of national security anymore than Colonel Jessup’s underwear.
Kamala Harris Speaks in Sentence Fragments and Believes the Sky is Flat
The “word salad” description of Kamala Harris’ utterances is just not powerful. It is accurate, but it is not powerful. So the time has come to change the description of her speech. It is time to plainly state that she does not speak in complete sentences. Instead, simply describe that she speaks in sentence fragments.
Kamala Harris speaks in sentence fragments. She does not speak in complete sentences. She also does not speak in run-on sentences. Instead, she speaks in sentence fragments.
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I also want to return to her “see the constellation” wisdom she pronounced the other day, one more time.
Forget that constellations are “not real” in the sense that Orion doesn’t really look like a warrior with a bow, nor does Orion’s Belt really look anything like a belt. I don’t care about that. What is striking to me, especially after having read through many of the great “scientists” of Western Civilization and their celestially-centered work—something Harris has clearly never read—is that constellations and Harris’s entire point are based on an incorrect model of the universe. The night sky has depth. The stars in the constellations are not lights lining the interior of a sphere, similar to a planetarium. The universe is deep.
Kamala Harris is manifestly ignorant of this and consequently passes on proverbs from antiquity which amount to little more than horoscope. This woman is a moron. And it ain’t because she is black, Indian, or a woman. It is because she speaks in sentence fragments and believes the sky is flat.
Captain’s Log 