Obama reveals the secret move he will to use to best opponent
Johnny McCain in the final moments of the fight: The Crane.
Caption This Photo
Obama reveals the secret move he will to use to best opponent
Johnny McCain in the final moments of the fight: The Crane.
Daily Kitteh
The Laddercat Chronicles: In which Sophie shows off how she loves to climb, run up and down, and occasionally just hang out on the rungs of the dining room chairs.
Quotes of the Day
"Equality, which is the primary value of the left, is a European value, not an American value."—Revolting fuckneck and rightwing radio megadouche Dennis Prager.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all [humans] are created equal."—Dirty European leftist scumbags John Adams, Samuel Adams, Josiah Bartlett, Carter Braxton, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Samuel Chase, Abraham Clark, George Clymer, William Ellery, William Floyd, Benjamin Franklin, Elbridge Gerry, Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, John Hancock, Benjamin Harrison, John Hart, Joseph Hewes, Thomas Heyward, Jr., William Hooper, Stephen Hopkins, Francis Hopkinson, Samuel Huntington, Thomas Jefferson, Francis Lightfoot Lee, Richard Henry Lee, Francis Lewis, Philip Livingston, Thomas Lynch, Jr., Thomas McKean, Arthur Middleton, Lewis Morris, Robert Morris, John Morton, Thomas Nelson, Jr., William Paca, Robert Treat Paine, John Penn, George Read, Caesar Rodney, George Ross, Benjamin Rush, Edward Rutledge, Roger Sherman, James Smith, Richard Stockton, Thomas Stone, George Taylor, Matthew Thornton, George Walton, William Whipple, William Williams, James Wilson, John Witherspoon, Oliver Wolcott, and George Wythe.
Write to Marry Day: I Want All These Things for Him
My best friend is a gay man.
When I was 15, there only needed to be one other person in a high school of 3,000 who carried a copy of Camus' The Stranger under his arm and knew down to his bones what I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar really means to make the world perfect, and I found him, or he found me, and so it was.
Two peas in a pod, attached at the hip, like-minded misfits in mail-order t-shirts and Doc Martens, whose collective nirvana was making light-headed pilgrimages to Wax Trax records to browse their dusty bins for long-awaited releases or rare bootlegs, shuffling among the other angsty shoegazers there for the same purpose. We dyed our hair and graffitied our leather jackets with images of the deities—The Smiths, The Cure, Siouxsie. Our tribe. We staked out our place among them and locked arms.
The world, or rather finding our places in it, has gotten a lot more complicated since then, but navigating it together makes it infinitely easier, because he is the kind of friend that everyone should be fortunate enough to have. He has seen me at my absolute worst—embarrassing, shameful stuff; he has known me to be stubborn, hurtful, uncompromising, inconsiderate, irrational. He has known me to lie. Some of it was directed at him. Some of it caused huge fights. And he has, graciously, forgiven me every time, because he made our friendship worth earning his forgiveness.
He has also seen me at my best, which, in the weird way of the criminally shy, is sometimes even harder for me to fully share than my worst. But he knows my heart truly, in the way few people do.
I have seen him at his worst and his best, too.
Our intertwined lives have left me with indelible memories of all the things we've done as a duo—writing an underground paper together, writing a shitty screenplay together, making silly movies together, living together, working together, vacationing together, attending innumerable concerts together, celebrating our 9-days-apart birthdays, seeing thousands of films, getting drunk, doing drugs, hanging out, wasting time, spending nights talking 'til dawn, laughing until we are gasping for air and swearing we shall never recover.
And then there's the stuff that happened to us individually, for which the other stood by, cheering for triumphs and helping pick up the pieces after disasters. The 18 years, more than half our lives, we've spent as confidants, conspirators, and comrades have, after all, spanned the years during which we stumbled along the uneven path toward adulthood—and it's a path along which he came out, I was raped, and both of us fell in and out of love, sometimes in spectacularly heartbreaking fashion.
I was married and divorced young. He was my best man at my wedding, and the only person in whom I could totally confide when my marriage really began to fail, making him the best man at my divorce, too. I swore off marriage—but when I met and fell in love with a Scotsman, and our being together depended on getting that piece of paper, my best friend was there to go out with us for burgers after our 10-minute ceremony at the courthouse.
Someday, I would like to be his Matron of Honor.
Or his Best Woman. Whatever he wants to call me.
I want to help plan his bachelor party; I want to organize a shower; I want to help plan the most beautiful, elaborate, over-the-top wedding extravaganza or the trip to the courthouse or whatever he wants in between. I want to see him stand beside a man that he loves, as I've been able to do, and have their relationship legally recognized. I want to see him kiss the groom, lingeringly and lovingly. I want to give a toast at the reception where I announce that I can already feel his gay marriage undermining the sanctity of mine, and watch him laugh while he snuggles in against his new husband's shoulder.
I want all these things for him. And there's no reason, not a one, why he shouldn't have them. Which is why I'm going to keep on working my one little teaspoon to do whatever I can to make sure he does.
I wasn't sure how I was going to end this piece, but my dear best friend—who doesn't even know that I'm writing it, and who recently ended a long-term relationship—just now, as I wrote, serendipitously sent me the following e-card:
"Just a reminder..... ;-)" he added, and signed it "Chewbacca."
I'm working on it, doll.
[Originally published in June as part of the ACLU Symposium on LGBT rights. Click on the picture at the top of the post, or here, for the complete collection of Write to Marry Day posts.]
Palin's Selective Terrorism Definition
I've got a new piece at The Guardian's Comment is free America about Sarah Palin's refusal to identify abortion clinic bombers as terrorists.
[Palin] effectively redefined "terrorist" as "Bill Ayers", and then asserted to judge whether anyone else is a terrorist exclusively by how closely they hew to what defines Ayers as a terrorist. Thus, only if one campaigns to destroy public buildings and innocent Americans (we'll come back to that one) are they in the same "category of Bill Ayers". That's a wonderfully convenient way of defining terrorism for Palin, who wants desperately to smear her opponent as a terrorist sympathiser – not so great a method for the rest of us, who don't have any investment in defining terrorists singularly by their resemblance to Ayers.Read the whole thing. (There's video and a transcript of the interview here, if you missed it.)
Second, she makes a careful note about the destruction of "innocent Americans" – a caveat that seems drawn specifically to provide an exception for people ("real Americans", perhaps) who blow up buildings full of not-so-innocent Americans.
Like, say, women getting abortions.
In Which I Give Yet Another Glimpse Into How Well and Truly Fucked I'm Going to be if Obama Doesn't Win on Tuesday
Earlier today, I said in comments:
[Obama's candidacy] has been, for me, a continuing lesson on what are and what are not mutually exclusive concepts. Being unthrilled about certain policy positions and tactics, sometimes unthrilled even to the point of feeling like we're taking a step backwards, and regarding his candidacy as yet a step forward in other ways, aren't mutually exclusive.That's not a "lesser of two evils" argument; it's not a comment about compromise, or balance, or taking what we can get, either. It's about coexistence and complexity, and opening myself up to both in a way I haven't before—in no small part because I've never had the need nor the chance, offered as I've been prior to this election only straight, white, wealthy men who were symbols of nothing but social stagnation at the upper levels of our government.
Reconciling that with my tendency to view candidates as either singularly Progressive or Not Progressive has been an important learning experience for me.
For a long time, I wasn't quite sure how to work out what to make of this opportunity given to me, to see forward and backward and running in place so vividly all in the same candidate. (I certainly would have had the same problem if Clinton had ended up our nominee.) But moving into a space where I can simultaneously feel desperately excited about the forward, while feeling the usual disappointment and occasional fury about the same old and back, has been good. And liberating.
It feels like the first time you really understand how to keep loving someone even after you've seen their flaws.
It's almost like I'm a real grown-up or something.
Anyway, this is all a roundabout way of saying that Kevin's got an interesting and thought-provoking short video documentary over at his place about redefining black masculinity, made by filmmaker Byron Hurt, that you should check out (and I second Kev's caveats in his intro). Some of the ideas presented therein are closely associated with that learning experience I described above…
Fuck Electronic Voting
Check, double check, triple-check your ballots. Fill out a paper one if you can. Make sure you're counted.
Democrats, if you lose this one, you only have yourselves to blame.
(Edit: By "Democrats," I mean our representatives, not Democrat voters.)
(Energy dome tip to tristero.)
You Can Vote However You Like
Shaker Sam just left a link to this stupendous (and beautifully germane) video of the Ron Clark Academy presidential debate in the comments of my earlier post, There's Something You Need to Understand About Me.
I could just sit here and watch that all day.
(If someone can find a transcript of the lyrics, please drop a link in comments.)
Wednesday Blogaround
What's the frequency, Shakers?
Recommended Reading:
Renee: JC Penny's Doesn't Do "Black Hair"
bfp: random moment of irritation #2
The Rotund: A Lovesong to My Stretch Marks
Phil: Stupid Human Tricks
Craig: My Home Among the Hills
Digby: Charles Meets Barack (For anyone who didn't see it after Shaker Cay's rec, in comments.)
And Redstar is back!
Leave your links in comments...
Beyond Marginalized
On Monday, I wrote about a fuckneck in West Hollywood who hung an effigy of Sarah Palin from a noose outside his home as a Halloween decoration and defended it as art.
Yesterday, the Los Angeles County sheriff's department, via spokesperson Steve Whitmore, said that the effigy "doesn't rise to the level of hate crime," because it was part of a Halloween display—and also:
Whitmore said that potential hate crimes are evaluated on a case-by-case basis. If the same display had been made of a Barack Obama-like doll, for example, authorities would have to evaluate it independently, Whitmore said.Pack up your teaspoons, feminists! Turns out the institutionalized misogyny we've been busily combating is imaginary! What a relief.
"That adds a whole other social, historical hate aspect to the display, and that is embedded in the consciousness of the country," he said.
Well, he's right about one thing, anyway—the "social, historical hate" toward women quite evidently isn't "embedded in the consciousness the country." Increasingly, I'm beginning to wonder if misogyny and the national consciousness have even been properly introduced yet.
There's Something You Need to Understand About Me
I have a hard-on for democracy.
Voting is about the closest thing there is to a sacrament in my secular little world; I don't have any holiday rituals, but I do have an Election Day ritual. Even though the vote I cast in the primary earlier this year was the first time my vote (mine) ever had the potential to matter—because I've always voted in a formerly red or decidedly blue state—I have always been excited to vote. I take the right and the responsibility seriously; I learn about the political and cultural issues in every campaign down to the infinitesimal details, and I consider just what I'm voting for as well as what I'm voting against, e.g. the tactics by which any candidate came to be in her or his position.
I've told the story before of my dad's (half-joking) concern for my social future when I was 17 and focusing my energies on knowing the politics of Tennessee Senators, just mentioned yesterday my firm childhood belief that memorizing the list of American presidents was a great patriotic act, and, in answer to last night's QotD about earliest memories of presidential politics, I'd say when my mom explained the concept of democracy to me in basic outlines after I saw a Schoolhouse Rock about the American Revolution; I can still remember feeling total and complete awe that one day I'd get to help elect the president.
I come from a family of teachers and cops and mail carriers and government bureaucrats and social workers and political strategists and soldiers and war protestors and poets and journalists. We are Democrats and we are Republicans and we are Independents, leaning either right or left; we are Americans and ex-pats and immigrants; we are religious and atheist; and we are all engaged with our government, even those of us whose paychecks aren't signed by Uncle Sam.
I despair at the existence of citizens who don't care, who are derelict in their duty of paying attention and holding their government accountable and being informed enough to make wise decisions. I despair at the state of our media, that requires plowing through ten tons of shit to get good information. I despair at our two-party system, and both the Democrats' and the Republicans' intractable determination to thwart a more vibrant democracy to retain their stranglehold on the government.
And because I despair at these things, I feel joy when I see people who are engaged despite them. I admire people who try to make a difference in this world, who understand intimately that the personal is political and that politics are—and should be—personal to us all. I love seeing people who are enthusiastic about and inspired by a candidate, people who are fired up, and I love getting fired up about a candidate myself, even though I know there's no such thing as a perfect candidate, and I will always be disappointed to one extent or another.
Democracy at its best is, after all, unlimited optimism shot through with a cold streak of cynicism. Deliver your candidates to their offices on your shoulders, to the sound of hopeful cheers, then hold their feet to the goddamned fire with the ruthlessness of someone whose very life depends on competent and compassionate governance.
Because it quite possibly does.
That is the way I have always practiced democracy. That is the way I will always practice democracy.
Celebratory. Cynical.
When I am critical of a candidate, it does not mean I regard that candidate as wholly without merit. When I am complimentary of a candidate, it does not mean I regard that candidate as wholly without flaws.
And when I post stories about people like Amanda Jones … or when I post images of girls who are engaged in the political process, especially in a year when we have seen such a shocking abundance of discouraging reasons for girls and women to disengage from politics … or when I recommend a beautiful post about what this election means to one little boy … or when I post a collection of images from a rally that is truly the best of what democracy has to offer, that includes an amazing image like this:
…it doesn't have anything at all to do with one specific candidate, except insomuch as that candidate provides the opportunity for the stories or the pictures. It is about Amanda Jones. It is about the children in those pictures. It is about celebrating our democracy, for which I have a huge old hard-on and always, always will. It's about my excitement to find other people who are engaged, and to whom politics is personal, and meaningful, and occasionally awe-inspiring, too.
Because democracy is also at its best when practiced by a passionate electorate who doesn't underestimate the right and the responsibility they hold—and evidence of like minds thrills me, way more than any candidate ever has.
This is something you need to know about me, so I thought I'd tell you plainly.
Carry on.
Wish List
Pat Buchanan is out with his predictions of what will happen in the first 100 days of the Obama administration:
* Two or three more liberal activists of the Ruth Bader Ginsberg-John Paul Stevens stripe will be named to the Supreme Court. U.S. district and appellate courts will be stacked with "progressives."Works for me.
* Special protections for homosexuals will be written into all civil rights laws, and gays and lesbians in the military will be invited to come out of the closet. "Don't ask, don't tell" will be dead.
* The homosexual marriages that state judges have forced California, Massachusetts and Connecticut to recognize, an Obama Congress or Obama court will require all 50 states to recognize.
* A "Freedom of Choice Act" nullifying all state restrictions on abortions will be enacted. America will become the most pro-abortion nation on earth.
* Universal health insurance will be enacted, covering legal and illegal immigrants, providing another powerful magnet for the world to come to America, if necessary by breaching her borders.
(Cross-posted.)
Meanwhile, on the Campaign Trail with Obama…
Since I evidently can't post anything but pictures today, below are some snaps from a rally at Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania, yesterday, which Shaker Nik E Poo mentioned in comments: "Speaking of blub—did anyone else feel tears jerking at the pics of the rally in PA yesterday? The idea of thousands of people showing up in the rain and cold—and for Obama to go on like its perfectly natural…"
That last picture...I don't know that I've ever seen a photo from a modern American presidential campaign quite like it.
Random Act of Kindness
'Good Samaritan' saves crying woman's foreclosed home:
Tracy Orr sat in the back of the room and prepared to watch her foreclosed home go up for auction this past Saturday. That's when a pesky stranger sat down beside her and struck up a conversation.[H/T to Shakers Azzy and Constant Comment.]
"Are you here to buy a house?" Marilyn Mock said.
Orr couldn't hold it in. The tears flowed. She pointed to the auction brochure at a home that didn't have a picture. "That's my house," she said.
…Mock says she bought the home for about $30,000. That's when Mock did what most bidders at a foreclosure auction never do. "She said, 'I did this for you. I'm doing this for you,' " Orr says. "When it was all done, I was just in shock."
"I thought maybe her and her husband do these types of things to buy them and turn them. She said, 'No, you just look like you needed a friend.' "
"All this happened within like 5 minutes. She never even asked me my name. She didn't ask me my financial situation. She had no idea what [the house] looked like. She just did it out of the graciousness of her heart, just a 'Good Samaritan,' " Orr says. "It's amazing."
…As for Orr's payments, Mock says, "We'll just figure out however much she can pay on it. That way, she can have her house back."
Why be so generous?
"She was just so sad. You put yourself in their situation and you realize you just got to do something," says Mock… "If it was you, you'd want somebody to stop and help you."
When she told her husband of 30 years that she'd just bought a home for a stranger, she says his reaction was: "Whatever."
"He's used to it," she says with a booming laugh.
Quote of the Day
"I do know that. … I'll actually go ahead and agree with you on that one."—Joe "Joe the Plumber" Wurzelbacher, during his first stint as a campaign surrogate at a McCain rally, signaling his agreement with an audience member who said: "It's my belief that a vote for Obama is a vote for the death to Israel."
Though "Joe the Plumber" has become a centerpiece of McCain's campaign in the closing days of the presidential race, McCain aides told FOX News the Republican nominee does not share Wurzelbacher's opinion on Obama's view toward Israel.That's adorable. I bet McCain's just thrilled he brought ol' Joe the Plumber onboard the Straight Talk Express.
Next Stop: Dysfunction Junction!
Toot toot!
Girls 4 Obama
In the comments of this thread, a couple people commented that they hadn't seen any/as many pictures of little girls gazing raptly at Obama, cheering for him, hugging him, and otherwise interacting with him, compared to the number of images we've seen of little boys. They're out there—that we don't see them as much probably has a lot to do with the typical bias that excludes girls and women from stories as long as there are boys and men to focus on. But that bias doesn't exist here—so, for your viewing pleasure, a collection of girls who love Obama, beginning with one of my favorite pictures of this campaign season, which happened to be taken at a diner not 2 miles from my house.
