Thanks for the Birthday Present, Bob!
On this, the 40-something anniversary of the day my father dropped my very pregnant mother off at Bethesda Naval and said, "Call me when it's over," I must salute Bob Woodward for the best present I've ever received. A book about how the Bush Administration is lying to us about the war. Thanks, Bobby!! It's almost nice enough for me to forget the other two books where you kissed their feet, then gave them pedicures!!
And below, an appropriate cartoon by Anne Talnaes that displays this Administration's attitude toward all our human sacrifice for Bush's Supreme Folly. In case you didn't hear the comma story, Bush was asked at a press conference about how history will treat this war and he said the quote she used as a caption: "When the final history is written about Iraq, it'll look like just a comma."
So, Bob, how do you deal with all the dead soldiers and dead innocent civilians in Iraq who've suffered unspeakable deaths since you first started making money off supporting the Bush Administration on this war? Maybe they'll get lucky and you'll go on Celebrity Jeopardy again, like you did a few years ago, and win - and then send the $20,000 to an Iraqi charity instead of to your child's posh high school in DC like you did then?
You're really an inspiration. Ahhh, journalism. It's not just for the intrepid anymore. It's for the rich.
Finding Peace
The first time I realized the importance of having a calm, happy home life was when I was in acting school in New York. I was living in a crappy little mouse-and-roach-ridden apartment on 93rd between Riverside and West End. My roommate and I painted the walls in her room lime green, but we ran out of paint about 3/4ths of the way up the wall, leaving a straggly beige border around the 6'5" mark. The rest of the place was pockmarked with mouse traps and shadows.
Anne used to leave coffee cups with partial amounts of coffee in them lying everywhere. She wore dark red lipstick that stuck to the rims like sludge. Then she'd toss her cigarette butt in to marinate.
When my acting teacher Ron and I talked about my unhappiness in the place, he asked me a series of questions about what it took to make me happy. I said I needed some green space nearby. I needed peace and quiet. I needed solitude. Ron said, "so why do you think you should be happy when you don't have any of those?"
It was a good lesson to learn at 19.
My view from my living room window today, looking left:
The view if you're a lazy slob sitting in the blue chair facing the TV and looking out over Lucy on the ottoman. This weekend, we watched water skiers:
The view from the balcony at happy hour:
Life is good. You gotta recognize it when you see it.
You Call That Angry?
Sorry for the fuzzy photos...
It's weird to watch the coverage of this story. It basically breaks down into three camps: the FOX folks, the Huffingtons et al who think Clinton blew it, and the frustrated Dems who feel liberated by watching one of their own stand up for themselves - especially to a windbag like Chris Wallace.
Now, I'm sure not every fact Clinton gave was right or even verifiable. But it was refreshing as hell to see him push back. As much as it was an ad for Richard Clarke's book, it was nice to see somebody talk about the media strategy. The Bushies have used some tired old saws from their side for years about the media's agenda. Heavens to Betsy! You mean the conservative media might have an agenda too?! Pass me the smelling salts. I feel the vapors a-comin' on.
And what do you expect the man to say the week that TV movie aired with some revisionist history while he's out there promoting a positive thing like his global initiative? Nobody likes good news, Mr. President. And remember: only TV movies about the Reagans get pulled.
So I applaud ol' Bill. I'll allow him his moment of righteousness. I'm not sure how focused he was on Osama bin Laden before he left office. I'm sure he knew about him and his threats. I know enough people who worked in his White House to know the stories of how hard he worked, how much he read, how many facts he could cram into his cranium. He didn't need staff to read the papers, then pre-masticate his news before they spat it into his hamster cheeks.
Those certainly were different times, weren't they?
I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he tried his best. The one thing there's proof of is: he never used his search for OBL to start a war and blow up an entire country on the pretext of keeping people from blowing us up here.
Those were the days.
The Thing About Parental Consent
Since my month away from blogging, I don't feel the need to scour the internet for photos to accompany the blogs. I'll try later, but I just don't got it now. And what kind of photo goes with this entry's title?
We have an initiative on the ballot here this fall that's a parental consent law. All the usual arguments pro- and con- are being made. The paper put both sides in today. I haven't read them yet but I know what they say. Abortion has always been an important issue in my life. There's no question for me whose choice it is.
So I was thinking back this weekend to all my friends who got pregnant in high school. Some told their parents. Some made sure they knew what they wanted to do before telling their parents. Others had abortions unbeknownst to mom and dad. And in every case, the kid chose correctly. The girls with abusive parents had the abortions. The ones with the open, loving parents told them - and sometimes still had the abortions.
Stop trying to force families to work. Even young women can tell when their family can handle news like this.
I always judge societal issues by the number of people I actually know who've been affected by whatever problem we're talking about (murder, robbery, rape, divorce, etc) and weigh the issue from there. Abortion - or unwanted pregnancy - is something that has affected almost everyone I know.
And the years of going through these stories with friends makes me know the evil of parental consent laws. We've said it before, we'll say it again: you can't legislate morality.
Please. Really. Stop trying.
Because We Haven't Heard from Him/Her Lately
Ahhh, junk email. It's been so long. The pitch has evolved. Marketing lesson: when your sales slump, add in "illicit sex" and blame mom.
I got this in my work email last week. Enjoy. But don't send any money.
DC Native
"How are you?
I am Nelly Davey Macmillian am 16 years old i am a
Londoner (UK) my mama is a an Algerian. my late popa
Mr. Davey was an engineer in London (Uk)before he died
in a car accident on 6th of january 2006.
he deposited the sum of (12 Million pounds) in one of
the london bank before he died i have
tried to claim this money now as i am in need of it to
further my education but i was told to bring a matured
person to do the claim on my behalf. I could
have told my mama but my mama and popa were divorced
for many years before popa died i was a year old then
and i was brought up by a german lady by name miss
schloer who took me to germany but she is late now.
Drug and Illicit sex by mama was the reason of the
divorced as my popa made me to understand that my mama
turned to junkies and made away with all that they had
except the money with the bank which popa
disclose not to any except me before he died
unfortunately popa is the only child of the
family and grannys are late my education is at stake i
do not know my mama till this moment i need to
continue my education in london and take care of myself
thats why i contacted you to help me do the claim on my
behalf and invest it till i finish my education as i am
too young to take care of the money now so please get back
to me as quick as possible so that i can give you the contact
of the of bank manager for you to contact him
Regard
kelymcjnr"
Dropping Some Keys
I had to let go of the keys to my house today. They're changing the locks because my East Coast two-keyed locks aren't healthy for children or other living things. I had to drop two keys off my key chain today. Even the psychedlic one. It was sad.
Yet again... fewer keys is always a good thing.
My favorite feeling is driving across the country with only the key to the car and maybe a storage locker. Ahhhhh.... Won't be happening again, but it was lovely while it lasted.
I dream the dreams of the newly employed in high stress lands. I dream of being fired and wake up happy to find I'm not. It's amazing how little it takes to make one's day.
I'm also giving up on thinking I've got the key to anything. It took awhile, but I do believe I've gotten there.
