Holy Moly Guacamole....

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuude.
They arrested the Governor.

Let me type that again:

They ARRESTED. The fucking GOVERNOR!!! of the ENTIRE STATE!!!!!

Just exactly how dense do you have to be: you're elected as a REFORM governor, because the LAST guy is in jail for official corruption; you KNOW--because EVERYONE IS TELLING YOU--that you're under investigation for all sorts of various shenanigans; and STILL you allow yourself to be AUDIOTAPED--AS YOU TRY TO SELL A SENATE SEAT TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER??? A Senate seat that belongs to the by-god PRESIDENT-ELECT OF THE ENTIRE COUNTRY?????

I think I should maybe calm down.

But:

DUDE.

They arrested the GOVERNOR!!!!!

(Needless to say, I am thrilled; even though he was a Democrat, he certainly wasn't MY type of Democrat--though I'm trying to remember if I voted for him. I don't believe I did, but if he was running in an election I voted in, then I probably did--more shame on me! The man is a pestilence, a parasite, a wart on the butt of a state which already has WAY too many governmental butt-warts in its past. The sooner he resigns, or is impeached, or--preferably!--both, the better off. Though I can't imagine his Lieutenant Governor would be a stunning improvement...hey, I could be wrong.)

History

I would have expected myself to get a little more grandiloquent and pompous tonight. Finally, finally, the last eight years of bullshit are over; that alone would be enough, but that it would unfold the way it has....What could I possibly add? Honestly, the weather in Chicago said it all today; sunny and bright, with the changing leaves gleaming in the sun and the cool breeze coming from the lake. It was perfect; it was a day for history.

The only thing I would change: I would wish for JP to be here for this moment. He was really a militant; in fact, he endured a lot of teasing from his childhood friends, for dating a white girl. I don't know if it ever stung him, but I would guess it probably did. The notion of an African-American President, back in 1995, was a pipe dream; yet here we are, thirteen years later, and within viewing distance of his mother's apartment Barack Obama is making his victory speech. I wish JP could have lived to see this day. It would have blown his mind.

As for me, I'm just happy and hopeful and worried, all at the same time. This could be the best thing to ever happen to America...or it could be the nightmare to end all nightmares. Time will tell. But tonight we are all a part of history, and I think the best thing to do is enjoy it.

Itchy.

The Itch, which improved for several days, has returned. This is probably due to the allergist's prohibition: no antihistamines for three days before my appointment. As I was feeling utterly hideous anyway--to the point of taking two days off work and pretty much sleeping the clock around--I just said "to hell with it" and stopped taking everything. My body spent the better part of today kicking me very hard for it, including a barfing spell early in the morning as I was getting ready for my much-unloved Saturday work day. This was followed by queasy-icky-tummy for most of the rest of the day, which led me over to Walgreens for Sick Tummy Supplies: Pepto, Rolaids, 7-up, and animal crackers. The Pepto helped a little, but it was an uneasy truce. Finally, after I got home from work (Mom actually gave me a ride, and unlike most times she offers, I didn't object--it was that or a cab, because if the ride to work was any indication, I wasn't going to make it on the bus) and laid down for a little bit, normal processes resumed and, after a while, I felt much better. A couple hours later, I fixed myself some mac and cheese, which seems to be staying down all right, and since I don't feel queasy, my outlook on life is much improved. (Seriously, is there anything that can make you more instantly and more thoroughly unhappy than an upset stomach? I honestly think that someone could have come to me this afternoon and told me "Gladys, you've won the lottery, and furthermore, you will now be transported for the rest of your natural life to the mythic Island of Hot Men, Free Chocolate, and Cute Kittens" and I would have had a hard time registering any emotion.)

So now, there's just The Itch. I have nothing more to say about the Itch, other than that I really wish it would go away, ASAP, and nevermore return; other than that, however, I think I've said all there is to say on that topic. I can't wait til my allergist appointment, anyway. I'm very much NOT used to my body screwing with me to this degree--especially when it's not clearly an effect to a cause. Heroin withdrawal, I understood: You do A, and B comes of it. This latest episode of itch/misery/discomfort/whatever seems to have no cause-effect relationship that I can see; I've stopped all the possible causes I can think of, and yet the effect remains stalwart. I'll be greatly pleased if this turns out to be something stupid and easy that I just didn't think of...but I'm starting to think it won't.

Anyhow, Tuesday will have a dual distinction: both The Itch and The Dubya--nasty, long-term scrofulous annoyances both--will be rooted out, and the process of sending them on their way begun.

I have wrestled in my mind with the notion of going downtown for the Obama rally. The "For" side says "It's history in the making! You'll be able to tell someone else's grandkids about it someday!" The "Against" side says "Are you fecking KIDDING me? All those people? MILLIONS of them. Do you know what the buses will look like afterwards? And besides, we have to go to work Wednesday morning...do you really want to stay out til they call the results, and then stay around for the party? Also, all those PEOPLE. Nuh-uh. History happens on TV too, you know."

There's another concern I have, too, about this rally; almost too horrible to whisper about. For the first time in my adult life, I am actually afraid for a public figure. If anything happens...yes, I know, millions upon billions have been expended to make sure nothing happens. But...Things happen. And if they happen, a lot of people will die. I honestly believe that; if something goes wrong, 1968 will look like a practice run. The Rodney King riots will look like a day in the park. And I'm afraid that if the worst happens, a lot of people who know better, who in normal times would trust their neighbors no matter what their race, will forget what they know. If it comes to that, I'm in a bad place. But if it comes to that, I really don't know too many people who AREN'T in a bad place.

So, further disproving Tim's evaluation of my belief system: I'm praying it doesn't come to that. But it scares me, all the same.

Oh, Dammit All To Hell...

Kasey's a Republican.
(From www.nascar.com)

A color that does suit him however is red -- the red on his No. 9 Dodge, but also the red of the Republican Party.

Add politico to the list of factoids you didn't know about Kahne.

While marketers are content to paint Kahne as an object of desire for tweens and soccer moms across the nation, he prefers they admire him for his work in our nation's capital.

Since December of 2005, Kahne has been pushing President George W. Bush's agenda for increased volunteerism and good will among Americans. Appointed to the president's Council on Service and Civic Participation with other dignitaries such as philanthropist Evern Cooper Epps, Ohio's First Lady Hope Taft and University of Texas chancellor Mark G. Yudof, Kahne is an ambassador tapped to represent his home state of Washington and the sport of NASCAR.

"We have meetings in Washington and I think it's unique, because I get to sit down with President Bush and listen to his ideas about giving back to the communities and how we can get people to do more like the fans in NASCAR do," Kahne said. "They like to hear ideas of how drivers like me and Jeff Gordon get people involved in volunteer work, things we do at the tracks."

His most recent two-year appointment to the council, the only racecar driver to earn such an appointment, stems from his ability to be a role model as well as the charitable work he performs through the Kasey Kahne Foundation.

:::deep sigh of despair:::

Um...Kyle? Let's talk politics, sugar, could we???

(inarticulate burblings of rage)

See, here I was all ready to feel sorry for myself (we may or may not go there later) and then I found this:

The Infantilization Of America Takes Another Exceedingly Wacky Turn

Because I know you all hate clicking on links: This story details a ban on mail addressed to "Any Wounded Soldier", which in many prior conflicts was used to send holiday wishes to recovering military members. One of the main rationales given for this ban:

USO spokesman John Hanson said that like the military, the nonprofit service organization does not deliver unopened mail to unspecified recipients. He said the USO worries about security as well as hateful messages from war critics. "We just want to make sure it's not, `Die, baby killer,'" he said. "There are people out there who act irrationally, and we don't want anyone to get a message that would be discouraging."

Now you all know I'm rabidly anti-American, and...wait, what???

No. Hold on. Lost my train of thought there.

Seriously: we can send adult human beings to entirely different countries, on largely-specious grounds, for the purpose of killing those with whom we disagree; can send them there to be killed and maimed by hostile factions, some of whom weren't even hostile until AFTER we got there; but by God, we must protect the eyes of our fighting men and women from the war critics' nanny-nanny-boo-boo?

We can lie to them about the death of their comrades, and have them shoot others full of holes as revenge for things that never happened; we can give them nonfunctional and inadequate protection against the attacks we're causing them to face, and point fingers at political figures from years past as the excuse; but dagnabbit, we're gonna make DARN SURE that no pinko commie lib'rul long-haired anti-Amurrican idjit calls our boys names by mail???

Jeebus Chesterfield on a dancing can of tuna-fish, have we LOST OUR EVER-FRAKKIN' MINDS???

Things I Totally Don't Understand

I have just discovered something, and it disturbs me.

Apparently, I am the only person I know who does not actively hate Hispanic people.

I know Tim has issues with them--it's a gang thing; I know a lot of other people who have problems with their existence in this country for economic reasons, legal reasons, reasons of percieved unfairness. And tonight, driving her to pick up a pizza and some cigarettes, I had to explain to Squeaky--several times, and rather emphatically--why I didn't want to hear her "really, really funny" Mexican joke.

My mom came back from a family gathering a few weeks back to report that my aunt Linda--not my least-favorite one, but definitely not a very nice person anyway--was up in arms because of something she'd heard. Apparently some friends from their former neighborhood, which is adjacent to the Catholic cemetery where my father and my grandparents, among various other relatives, are buried, told her that "the Mexicans have picnics by the graves!!!" They were absolutely horrified at this; my aunt, predictably, was also disgusted. "It's disrespectful!" she insisted. (Talk about the mourners weeping louder than the bereaved--this is my aunt by marriage, and it's her in-laws buried there, not her parents. And none of her blood relatives are buried there, nor will any of her family end up there when the time comes. Yet she was the one making the squawk about it, from what Mom said.)

And of course, because one group of individuals from a certain culture has done one thing that upsets you, that makes the entire culture morally suspect, and from Mom's report, the conversation moved on to a wholesale bashing of Hispanics in general. (Ever notice how such conversations, even if they don't descend as far as ethnic slurs, always refer to the people in question as "Mexicans"? Thousands of years of advanced and highly differentiated cultures, all summed up in one word that's almost no longer the name of a nationality--in the hands of these people, it's more a pejorative, full of subtexts and Frito-Bandito stereotypes.) To give her credit, Mom was more disgusted by Linda and her whining than about the alleged atrocity of "picnicking" at the graves. Frankly, I've seen way more Caucasians do that than Hispanics, anyway.

I understand immigration is a hot-button issue, though there are days I think I'm the only one who holds my particular view*; what I entirely fail to understand, though, is the degree of animosity towards a group of people who are only making the same effort that most of us are making every day: to create a good, comfortable, reasonably-easy life for themselves and their families. I don't understand the hate.

But then again, I rarely do. I may not be a "people person", and I can't say I'm too fond of humanity as a whole, but that's a general thing, brought on by my own love of solitude; breaking it down any further than that, I can think of maybe one group of people I can honestly say I despise. ** (Individuals, however, are a whole 'nother matter; there are plenty of them I can't stand to be in the same room with. But that's because they're annoying, or bigoted, or controlling--not because they're white, black, red, brown, or yellow. (Orange, however--now THAT's a problem, because: lay off the fake tanner, okay? I don't CARE what the box says: it does NOT look natural.))

Overall, though, this realization kinda makes me want to look for an apartment in Pilsen.*** (After all...it WOULD insure that Tim and Squeaky stayed away....)

_____________________________________________________________

*My view on immigration and the like: in my opinion, it's nothing to get up in arms about, since national boundaries should not be considered sacrosanct, since they're just man-made abstractions created by those in power at a given moment, carefully calculated to maintain their own best advantage without depriving the guys on the other side enough to instigate a conflict.

**In case you're interested? They're the ones who don't pull up close to the car in front of them, thus occupying TWO entire parking spaces and making it necessary for me to park nearly a mile from work under a viaduct with thirteen other cars, all of whose owners returned at the end of the day to find tickets attached to their windows, regardless of the fact that there was not a single, solitary sign or indicator that parking was not allowed there.

***A highly Hispanic neighborhood, with AWESOME food, on the near South Side of Chicago.