Sunday, April 28, 2013

This needs an asskicking

Honey BunnyAnd I’m in the mood to do it. This has been making the rounds on the Interwebz lately, and I’ve seen it posted in several places. Thank goodness no one has sent it to me in an email; I think lessons have been learned! I could barely read it, and had to skim over it in parts to keep my head from exploding. First of all, I hate these sort of “morality plays” that get passed around. They’re inevitably trite and contrived, and this one is particularly so. It could also possibly be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever read, and I feel the need for a rebuttal, if only to cleanse my brain of this nonsense. So settle back, kids. This is going to be a long one. My commentary in red, which should be obvious.

***

I was in my neighborhood restaurant this morning and was seated behind a group of jubilant individuals celebrating the coming implementation of the health care bill. I could not finish my breakfast. This is what ensued: They were a diverse group of several races and both sexes.

I find it odd that it seems necessary to point out that “several races and both sexes” were in this group. Why not just say it was a bunch of blahs and beaners and bitches and let your freak racist/misogynist flag fly? Get it right there out front. Go on. You’ll feel better. Sorry they made you feel barfy, though.

I heard a young man exclaim, “Isn’t Obama like Jesus Christ? I mean, after all, he is healing the sick.”

Is this how conservatives think liberals talk? I have a lot of liberal friends, and I have never had a single one of them compare President Obama to Jesus Christ, or say that Obama is “healing the sick.” I hardly think that expanding health care so that it is more accessible to all Americans qualifies as “healing the sick.” And before you start bandying JC’s name about, you might want to take another look at what the bible says that he said about it. Start with this one.

A young woman enthusiastically proclaimed, “Yeah, and he does it for free. I cannot believe anyone would think that a free market wouldn't work for health care.”

I’m not really sure what is going on here. No, it’s not free. We are all paying for it with our taxes, just like we pay for our roads, defense, and other essential services provided by the government. We on the left understand this, and we approve of it. Because, you see, we believe that everyone should have the right to at least basic, preventive healthcare. I also don’t understand the “free market” comment. Is this fictional liberal using the word “free” as in no one has to pay for it, or “free market” in the economic sense? Healthcare insurance isn’t a free market system; the prices of payment are set by the insurance companies. The Affordable Care Act does not open up a totally free market for healthcare. It expands coverage to more people and it sets some boundaries for insurance companies. This is where the whole thing really started becoming nonsensical to me.

Another said, "The stupid Republicans want us all to starve to death so they can inherit all of the power. Obama should be made a Saint for what he did for those of us less fortunate.”

I don’t think the Republicans want all liberals to starve to death. Only the poors and the blahs and the sluts and the ones who vote. I kid, I kid. But what does “starving to death” have to do with the Affordable Care Act? Again, not making much sense here. And Obama should achieve sainthood? Nah. But I think he is to be commended for caring about the 47%, unlike SOME people (nottomentionanynamesmittromney). It is a little noble to think that people shouldn’t have to die of preventable diseases, or should be able to get treatment if they can’t afford it, or shouldn’t have to lose their home because of medical bills. Caring about those less fortunate...that’s quite a concept. Some might say it’s almost...Christlike.

At this, I had more than enough. I arose from my seat, mustering all the restraint I could find, and approached their table. “Please excuse me; may I impose upon you for one moment?” They smiled and welcomed me to the conversation. I stood at the end of their table, smiled as best I could and began an experiment.

No, real restraint would mean minding your own damn business and not horning in on their conversation. And this is not really what constitutes an “experiment.”  But you’ve already made your move. Please proceed, governor.

“I would like to give one of you my house. It will cost you no money and I will pay all of the expenses and taxes for as long as you live there. Anyone interested?”

They looked at each other in astonishment. “Why would you do something like that?” asked a young man, “There isn’t anything for free in this world.”

They began to laugh at me, as they did not realize this man had just made my point.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Stoopid liberals. You’re about to get schooled. Let me reiterate: we understand this is not free. We understand that our taxes are paying for it, and we’re okay with that. We also think it’s reasonable to ask those with the most to pay a little bit more than those with the least.

“I am serious, I will give you my house for free, no money whatsoever. Anyone interested?”

In unison, a resounding “Yeah” fills the room.

HUZZAH! And please watch your tense. You’re waffling between past and present tense here.

“Since there are too many of you, I will have to make a choice as to who receives this money-free bargain.”

Guys, I think this dude is kinda starting to creep me out. It’s like he’s getting his rocks off playing god and thinking he’s all wise and shit.

I noticed an elderly couple was paying attention to the spectacle unfolding before their eyes, the old man shaking his head in apparent disgust.

Maybe he’s disgusted with YOU, did you ever stop to think about that? Maybe he thinks you’re a creep and you need to stop harassing these people.

“I tell you what; I will give it to the one of you most willing to obey my rules.”

Again, they looked at one another, an expression of bewilderment on their faces.

Clever dude. You’ve got ‘em bewildered. Of course, that’s pretty easy to do with us liberals, amirite? Also, I don’t like your semicolon use. A plain old period would have sufficed. A colon might have been more stylish. But a semicolon? No.

The perky young woman asked, “What are the rules?”

Perky? Young? That’s it. This guy’s a creeper. He’s looking at your tits, honey. Get away from him!

I smiled and said, “I don’t know. I have not yet defined them. However, it is a free home that I offer you.”

They giggled amongst themselves, the youngest of which said, “What an old coot. He must be crazy to give away his home. Go take your meds, old man.”

Teeheehee, giggly liberals. You so silly! And “It is a free home that I offer you.” Who talks like that? “I will now play for you the song of my people.”

I smiled and leaned into the table a bit further. “I am serious, this is a legitimate offer.”

Yeah, he’s trying to look down your shirt, honey. Lean back. There you go. Seriously, this guy needs to go back to his own table.

They gaped at me for a moment.

“I’ll take it you old fool. Where are the keys?” boasted the youngest among them.

Isn’t it amazing how stupid liberals are? Look at them just sitting there with their mouths open. And how is what the youngest said a “boast?” In order to boast, one has to tout one’s own accomplishments or prowess. None of that in his remarks. Wow, this is really crappy writing.

“Then I presume you accept ALL of my terms then?” I asked.

You used “then” twice. Yep. Really crappy writing.

The elderly couple seemed amused and entertained as they watched from the privacy of their table. “Oh yeah! Where do I sign up?”

Maybe they’re not amused and entertained. Maybe they’re afraid that you’re going to pull out a gun and go all Honey Bunny on the place. But no, you’re beyond that now. You’re in full kindly old uncle mode, ready to teach these whippersnappers a thing or two. More like kindly old uncle who stares too hard at you when you’re getting out of the pool, and who hugs you just a little too long and too close, if you ask me.

I took a napkin and wrote, “I give this man my home, without the burden of financial obligation, so long as he accepts and abides by the terms that I shall set forth upon consummation of this transaction.” I signed it and handed it to the young man who eagerly scratched out his signature.

“Where are the keys to my new house?” he asked in a mocking tone of voice.

Sigh. Way too adverby and adjectivy. You should really consider taking a class. It could help. Also...must be a big napkin. Hope it’s a paper one, otherwise you are defacing the restaurant’s property.

All eyes were upon us as I stepped back from the table, pulling the keys from pocket and dangling them before the excited new homeowner.

“From pocket.” Please register for a class now. And the drama is killing me. *gasp* What’s he going to do? What will he say? [biting nails]

“Now that we have entered into this binding contract, witnessed by all of your friends, I have decided upon the conditions you are obligated to adhere to from this point forward. You may only live in the house for one hour a day. You will not use anything inside of the home. You will obey me without question or resistance. I expect complete loyalty and admiration for this gift I bestow upon you. You will accept my commands and wishes with enthusiasm, no matter the nature. Your morals and principles shall be as mine. You will vote as I do, think as I do and do it with blind faith. These are my terms. Here are your keys.”

I reached the keys forward and the young man looked at me dumbfounded.

“Are you out of your mind? Who would ever agree to those ridiculous terms?” the young man appeared irritated.

“You did when you signed this contract before reading it, understanding it and with the full knowledge that I would provide my conditions only after you committed to the agreement.”

Oooo, the big reveal! Are you amazed, stupid liberals? Wow, this dude really got the better of you, didn’t he? Burrrrrn! But seriously, guys, he is really creeping me out here. “You will accept my commands and wishes with enthusiasm” is something you hear right before you’re chloroformed and wake up naked and chained to a wall, a ball gag in your mouth. Not that that’s ever happened to me or anything.
 
The elderly man chuckled as his wife tried to restrain him. I was looking at a now silenced and bewildered group of people.

Wait, he’s chuckling as his wife is trying to restrain him? This is getting weird. Maybe he’s going to try to take you out before you kill a whole restaurant full of people.

“You can shove that stupid deal up your a** old man. I want no part of it!” exclaimed the now infuriated young man.

Language, language! Man, kids these days.

'You have committed to the contract, as witnessed by all of your friends. You cannot get out of the deal unless I agree to it. I do not intend to let you free now that I have you ensnared. I am the power you agreed to. I am the one you blindly and without thought chose to enslave yourself to. In short, I am your Master.”

Good lord! Run, you guys, RUN! He’s gonna break out the chloroform any minute now! This is gonna be you, I’m not kidding! You just know this guy’s got a gimp of his own chained up back at his place!

At this, the table of celebrating individuals became a unified group against the unfairness of the deal.

After a few moments of unrepeatable comments and slurs, I revealed my true intent.

No, I think they all finally figured out that you’re a seriously creepy dude and they’re telling you to fuck off.

“What I did to you is what this administration and congress did to you with the health care legislation. I easily suckered you in and then revealed the real cost of the bargain. Your folly was in the belief that you can have something you did not earn, and for that which you did not earn, you willingly allowed someone else to think for you. Your failure to research, study and inform yourself permitted reason to escape you. You have entered into a trap from which you cannot flee. Your only chance of freedom is if your new Master gives it to you. A freedom that is given can also be taken away. Therefore, it is not freedom at all.”

Except that many of us on the left DID do our research, and spent plenty of time finding out what was and wasn’t in the bill. And then we supported it, and many of us contacted our legislators to urge them to vote for it. Are we entirely happy with it? No. We feel that single payer healthcare would have been the way to go, and would have liked to see Medicare expansion to everyone. But it’s a start, something to be improved upon, and it will allow tens of millions of Americans to get healthcare. That’s a good thing, because I think every person deserves to be treated as a human being, and that includes a right to basic healthcare. But hey, what do I know? I’m just one of those stoopid liberals.

With that, I tore up the napkin and placed it before the astonished young man. “This is the nature of your new health care legislation.”

No, it’s really not. The only thing that comes even close to being true about this is that there is a mandate that everyone has insurance. Because at some point, you’re going to need to be cared for, whether you get food poisoning, get hit by a bus, or fall off a ladder while you’re cleaning your gutters. These sorts of things happen to people all the time, no matter how careful you are, and when you go to the Emergency Room, guess who pays for it if you don’t have insurance? Those of us who DO have insurance, because our premiums go up because you’re too goddamn stubborn to realize that having health insurance is a good thing--for everyone. Or maybe you’re too deluded by your fears of a central government. Which we’ve had for quite a few years now, if you hadn’t noticed. Maybe you slept through that part of history class that discussed the whole war in which states’ rights versus federal rights was in question. (Hint: latter trumps the former. It’s in the Constitution. Look it up.)

I turned away to leave these few in thought and contemplation -- and was surprised by applause.

Everyone is relieved that the hostage situation is over, and was resolved without bloodshed.

The elderly gentleman, who was clearly entertained, shook my hand enthusiastically and said, “Thank you, Sir. These kids don’t understand Liberty .”

Liberty with a capital L! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! That’s right. They don’t understand the liberty of finding out you have cancer and having months of treatment and reaching the cap on your insurance and having to declare bankruptcy and sell your house because of medical bills. They don’t understand how utterly and completely FREE you feel when you notice a lump in your breast but don’t have the money to see a doctor, so you just let it go. They don’t understand what it’s like to have out-of-control diabetes and watch as your toe turns black and starts to smell kind of bad, and to realize that you just can’t see as well as you used to and that your vision might be failing. They don’t understand the sheer joy that happens when your child is running a fever and you have to sit in the waiting room of the ER for eight hours before you can see a doctor, and you miss an entire day of work because of it and wonder if you’re going to get fired as a result. DO YOU LOVE YER FREEDOMS??

He refused to allow me to pay my bill as he said, “You earned this one. It is an honor to pick up the tab.”

I shook his hand in thanks, leaving the restaurant somewhat humbled and sensing a glimmer of hope for my beloved country.

I see. So this rat bastard creepster gets a free lunch out of the deal and thinks it’s just dandy. But for fuck’s sake, let’s not even consider the idea of helping those who are less fortunate, or aiding the poor and disadvantaged. Because that would be silly and downright un-American.

1. Remember... Four boxes keep us free: the soap box, the ballot box, the jury box, and the cartridge box.

2. THIS SHOULD GO AROUND THE UNITED STATES SO PEOPLE CAN SEE JUST WHAT IS GOING ON. MAYBE EVEN THE POLITICALLY BLIND ONES WILL LEARN SOMETHING FROM IT.

***

Beth here again, back in black. I’m always happy to climb up on my soap box, and I had a lot of fun writing this today. I also enjoy casting my vote, and I will happily do jury duty if called. I’m not so sure about the cartridge box. I support responsible gun ownership, but I think I’d still feel pretty free if I didn’t have a gun. I guess I just don’t subscribe to the paranoid idea that the government is going to declare martial law and haul me off to the gulag. I also realize that my .38 Ladysmith isn’t going to defend against an Apache helicopter. I try to stay focused on reality, you know?

I know exactly what is going on. I know that President Obama was able to do something that presidents have been trying to do for decades: pass a comprehensive healthcare bill that will provide basic medical care to millions of Americans. That is something that gives me a glimmer of hope for my country. I am also not politically blind. Far from it.

But I did learn something from this piece. It confirmed my commitment to being a proud liberal, and to working and contributing to help get progressives into office. I learned that many conservatives think we are stupid, clueless hippies who are not paying attention. Feel free to keep on thinking that. I also learned--or confirmed--that there are profound differences between us and the right. It boils down to embracing a strong central government or rejecting it. I truly believe that a strong central government can and does do good things. One of the things they can do well is a national healthcare system. Medicare has its inefficiencies and problems, but overall, it delivers care at a much lower price. But I’m not going to rehash that debate; I’ve said my piece on it previously, several times.

The Affordable Care Act is the law of the land. Stop trying to repeal it, stop posting idiocy like this, and if you feel it can be made better, come up with some ideas and write to your legislators. Many more people will be covered under the ACA, and lives will be saved. That’s a good thing. The persistence of this notion that all liberals are clueless children who want free stuff is not doing you any favors, and it is part of what cost you the last election. I shouldn’t have to point this out to you.

**mic drop**

Thursday, April 18, 2013

It’s so tasty, too!

LaSalle GrillLast night, we headed downtown for a “Flavors of the Mediterranean” wine dinner at LaSalle Grill. Ken is going on a business trip next week, and thought it would be a nice treat for us to do before he left. It came at a good time, because man, has this been a weird week, or what? And it’s not even done yet.

Anyway, LaSalle Grill is one of the nicest restaurants in our area. We don’t eat there often, because it is also one of the most expensive! This is the kind of place where you don’t take pictures of your food, do you get me? Every so often, they have one of their wine tasting or beer tasting dinners, though, and it’s a chance to experience several different kinds of food paired with appropriate wines or beers. It’s a culinary adventure! Join me, won’t you? [waving you over] Come on! It’s fun! (Sorry, I’m in a silly mood.)

Here is last night’s menu, so you can get an idea of the food they serve there.


AMUSE-BOUCHE
Bacon Wrapped Date
Edamame Hummus, Harissa
Fenugreek Pickled Shallots

FIRST COURSE
Big-Eye Tuna Crudo
Caramelized Fennel Salad
Crisp Sunchokes, Rosemary Sea Salt
2009 Contine Colosi, Biano Sicilia, Italy

SECOND COURSE
Olive Oil Poached Monkfish
Grilled Zucchini, Olives & Radicchio
Light Balsamic & Tomato Broth
2010 Louis Jadot, Pouilly Fuissé, France

THIRD COURSE
Spiced Lamb & Couscous Fritter
Green Cardamom Yogurt, Charred Eggplant Purée,
Fried Goat Cheese, Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette
2010 Tres Picos, Garnacha, Campo de Borja, Spain

ENTREE
Ras El Hanout Braised Short Rib
Chickpeas & Lentils, Fava Beans,
Preserved Lemon, Pomegranate & Dried Fig Jus
2009 Chateau Teyssier, Saint Emilion Grand Cru, France

DESSERT COURSE
Walnut Baklava
Cinnamon-Anise Crème Fraîche
2007 Royal Tokaji, 5 Puttonyos Aszú, Hungary

I practically had to be carted out of there in a wheelbarrow. The wine portions are generous, and all told, I probably had about a half a bottle of wine. But what really got to me was the sheer richness of the food. The portions are small, but I still felt very full, enough so that I didn’t finish my dessert wine. I was like, “Okay. No more.”

We go to some decent places, and it’s hard to beat a good steak or a nice piece of fresh fish when we’re on the coast. But what is fun about this place is all the different flavors that you get to try, and the way they combine them. I’m not a big fan of anise, but oh man, that baklava was to die for! The complexity of some of these flavors made my taste buds do the can-can.

The bacon-wrapped date was so good, but gone so quickly! Two bites, and that little bit of deliciousness was gone. (I looked up the definition of “amuse-bouche,” and it literally means “entertain the mouth.” I love that! It is a one-bite appetizer, thus only the one date.) Probably my least favorite was the short rib, because that’s a piece of meat that is mostly fat. The flavor was delicious, though, and with the beans, it was very hearty. (And yes, Hannibal Lecter jokes were made about the fava beans!) My absolute favorite was the tuna crudo, which is the same as sashimi. The stuff just melted in my mouth, and the salad, sunchokes (AKA Jerusalem artichokes), and sea salt were just an amazing combination. I can still almost taste it.

We also laughed about the lamb & couscous fritter, because couscous always makes us think of something I said when our friends Kim and Steve were visiting us. We were talking about what we were having for dinner, and I asked, “Do you like couscous?” Steve said, “Yeah, it’s okay.” I said, “Well, we’re not having that tonight,” and he just burst into laughter. I still have no idea why I said it that way...I think I had recently made some and didn’t care for it much, and I was just wondering if they liked it. Anyway, it still makes me laugh.

The wines were perfectly paired, as always, with light, citrusy whites starting us off, a hearty red with the short rib and beans, and a sweet, orange-y wine with the dessert.

LaSalle Grill may be expensive, but they earn it. I love trying different things, and the way they combine the tastes and textures is just amazing. A wonderful treat, one to enjoy on an occasional basis. Thanks, Honey!

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Daryl Dixon: To arms! To arms!

Norman Reedus arms3It’s still too soon for me to write about what happened in Boston yesterday. I just...I can’t even...no words. I didn’t turn on the news today until this evening, and I’ve avoided most online articles about it. I’m trying hard to not let the rage and despair overwhelm me (Remember me writing about my intense emotions lately? Right.), and I know when I need to step back. A little time will restore my words, and I’ll write about it.

But not now. Instead, I’m just going to go total fangirl on you and write about something fun. Not the Stones this time, believe it or not!

Most people know that I’m a huge fan of “The Walking Dead.” I was hooked from the very first episode. Let me channel my Inner Stefon and say, “This show has everything. Zombies, katanas, crossbows, eyepatches, and a human plumb-bob.”

“What’s a human plumb-bob?”

“It’s that thing where a zombie dangles from a rope down a well and then gets torn in half and....”

Okay, you get the idea. I love the show. I get a little discussion thread going on Facebook every week after the show, and call it my Dead Thread. (I’m sure others have used the term, too. I don’t claim that it is original to me, although I had never seen it before.) We talk about what happened, what might happen, and what we hope will happen. It’s fun. I had never read the comics, so I have no expectations of what will be or what should be; it is impossible for me to be disappointed because the show did something different from the graphic novels.

One of the things that I love about the show is the way the characters evolve and change in response to “this sorrowful life.” Nothing is as it was; rules have changed or disappeared completely. It is not so much living as it is surviving, and sometimes, there are pretty dark decisions that have to be made. When the show started, I really dug the character of Shane. He obviously loved some people, but he took a real dark turn there—it happens in this world—and I was saddened by his necessary demise. It didn’t have to be that way, Shane, but you made your choice. This world does bad things to some people.

A more redemptive storyline has been that of Daryl Dixon, played by Norman Reedus. It just astounds me to see the way his character is evolving, and to learn more about him. Daryl is probably the breakout character on the show, with a legion of fans vowing to riot in the streets if they kill him off. We understand that no one is safe, but NOT DARYL. Do you hear me, WD writers? NOT DARYL. Anyway, it’s a fascinating character study: abused as a child, looking up to his older brother Merle but kind of despising him at the same time, a true loner yet still wanting and needing to be part of the group, loyal to a fault. Daryl never gave up on searching for Sophia...maybe because he identified with the lost child and always hoped that someone would save him when he was a child? I don’t know, but he has proven to be a complex and fascinating character, and Norman plays him perfectly.

I had never heard of Norman Reedus before this show, so I was interested to find out that he’s apparently a pretty cool person in his own right. Artist, sculptor, photographer, by all accounts a super nice guy and kind to his fans. And he has a cat...a black one! Sheeba approves! I had heard of the Boondock Saints movies but didn’t know he was in them and I’ve never seen them. I just got them and am looking forward to watching. Anyway, nice to find out that he’s a good guy in real life, and not a douche.

Norman Reedus arms2I read a lot of stuff about the show, including interviews with the cast. He said in one interview that the writers were planning on taking Daryl another way. They wanted him to start taking drugs after Merle was split from the group, and he said no, he didn’t want to play him that way. Daryl loved his big brother, but he didn’t want to be like him. He wanted to grow up and be the person that others could rely on. Good instincts, Norman, because it makes Daryl all the more compelling. We’re rooting for this guy to be okay, because he’s really trying to be a better person. I really just can’t say enough about how much I like this character.

He also seems to be a good sport about the numerous fan sites that have cropped up for Daryl and for himself. His arms are absolutely adored. There are a LOT of women who are crushing on him in a major way, and his Twitter feed can be hilarious, with everything from pleas for him to follow them to marriage proposals. Some take a more “subtle” route...a friend and I are still laughing about someone demanding that he fuck them in the face. I’m sure he’ll get right on that!

Yes, I’m a fangirl. I agree that he has nice arms, but what I really love is how he’s made the character into someone that is...well, I think I’d  have to say “beloved.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so invested in a character, or so connected to a group of characters. “ER” might have been the closest one—I bawled like a baby when Anthony Edwards’ Dr. Greene died—but that doesn’t even come close to how I feel about these characters. I’ve gasped, I’ve yelled, I’ve cried, and I’ve sat there in horror with my hand over my mouth...not because of the creepy zombies, but because these characters that I’ve come to love are in danger. One of the most devastating moments of the past season for me was when Daryl found his brother...reanimated. I said, “Nooooo, oh Daryl, nooooo,” and cried like a little girl. Well-played, sir, well-played.

So...can you tell I’m going through withdrawals after the end of the season? October is a long way away.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Intensity


LichtensteinAlthough I don’t often show it on the outside, I’ve always felt things pretty intensely. It can be a happy event or a sad one. But it doesn’t have to be an event. It can be a song, or a TV show, or a painting, or a movie. It can even be a commercial.

I’ve been that way all my life, and I’m finding that as I’m getting older, it is actually intensifying. That’s kind of a scary prospect for me, because sometimes these things are almost overwhelming. It’s a great big tsunami of emotion that I seem to be helpless to control at times. I’m finding it happening a lot lately with music. When we went to see “Viva Elvis!” (the Elvis Cirque du Soleil show) in Vegas a few years ago, Ken looked over at me and I had tears rolling down my face. I got choked up at “Rock of Ages.” I’ve been listening to a lot of Stones lately, and sometimes as I sing along, my voice will catch because the music has made me verklempt.

It’s an odd way to show happiness, I know. Sometimes I feel such sheer joy at things that I can feel it oozing out of my pores. It certainly escapes through my tear ducts! These intense feelings happen most often with happy things, which is good...because if the majority of them were sad things, I can see how people could get completely overwhelmed by their emotions.

Sometimes I wish that I could moderate this a little bit, and as I said, I’m a little trepidatious over the fact that the intensity seems to be...well, intensifying. But then I think that I am grateful that I have the capability to be so moved that I am brought to tears. I would much rather be this way than be jaded and cold. Not that I don’t have my moments of coldness; when I need to, I can work on the clampdown and effectively shut it down. I do this in moments of great stress, or when someone has treated me badly—or thinks that they can exert control over me and manipulate me. If you try that with me...well, good luck with that. I can be a high-ridin’ bitch when I need to be, just like Dolores Claiborne and Vera Donovan.

But most of the time, I’m just a little ol’ softie. I fully anticipate weeping copiously at the Stones concert, and I’ve warned Ken about it. In moments like that, I’m okay, nothing is wrong...I’m just caught up in the fun of it and enjoying the ride. As Third Eye Blind sang, “the four right chords can make me cry.” In my case, that is literally true. And I’m okay with it.

Friday, April 12, 2013

I have been assimilated

Twitter as BorgI’ve had a Twitter account for quite a while now, but I’ve never done much with it. It got the most activity during the primaries and election, when a group of us would get on and live-tweet the debates. It was always a blast, but other than that, I didn’t post much on there. I always intended to, and I’d have a couple of days where I’d remember to post there as well as to Facebook...and then I’d ignore it again.

That all changed this past week when I decided to put up or shut up. I started posting things fairly frequently, and although I’m trying to keep my following list on the low side, I started looking for some interesting people. I already had quite a few on there, mainly political figures, journalists, and blogger friends, but I started seeking out musicians, Walking Dead people, and others.
I’m actually having a lot of fun with it, and I’m not sure why I didn’t before. I still prefer Facebook for longer, more detailed threads (like my Dead Thread I start every Sunday night after “The Walking Dead”...must ask friends if I can import those to Twitter), but Twitter is fun for quickies. 

The Rolling Stones (including Mick, Keith, and Ronnie) have a large presence on there now as they gear up for the tour. One of my favorites is, oddly enough, Donnie Wahlberg, who posts pumped-up, positive messages like telling Monday he’s going to kick its ass, or telling his followers that only WE can change things in our lives. It is strangely endearing. And I adore Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl Dixon on “The Walking Dead.” He’s very appreciative of his fans, he’s also an artist and photographer, and posts random pictures like him holding an avocado pit in his mouth. It makes me grin. It’s an almost joyful goofiness that just makes me happy. Even “serious people” occasionally post just-for-fun stuff, and Curiosity Rover is absolutely adorable. (I’m not going to provide links to every single one of those...if you’re interested, just search for them, and look for the verified account.)

Maybe that’s what I’m digging about it compared to Facebook. It strikes me as a little more random and chaotic. It appeals to my inner anarchist, as well as to that Inner Lizard I wrote about the other day. I love the jumble of articles, nuggets of wisdom, fun pictures, bizarre pronouncements, and sheer what-the-fuckness. I’m not dumping you, Facebook, but I think we should date others. Twitter, call me later, baby.

If you’d like to follow me on Twitter: @Luvrte66

Monday, April 8, 2013

Unleash your Inner Lizard

LizardIt should come as no surprise that I’m on a major Stones kick at the moment (get used to it...it’s going to be going on for over a month), so I’ve been posting a Stones song on Facebook once in a while. The other day, I posted “Paint It, Black,” and said that was my second favorite Stones song. My friend Holly said that her favorite is “Shattered” (that is my third favorite Stones song, for the record) and it brings out her “inner lizard.”

That phrase spoke to me. It somehow perfectly describes that sort of down and dirty, raunchy, hip-swivelin’ Stones style. When the Inner Lizard comes out, shit gets real.

You know those ‘would you rather’ questions? Like “Ginger or Mary Ann?” One of the classics is “Beatles or Stones?” Of course I love the Beatles. Who doesn’t? They were my first taste of pop music, when I was maybe 5 or 6, and my Beatlemaniac sister played her records for me. But for me, it was always about the Stones. They always had a darker edge, a more dangerous, bad boy sex appeal. I was listening to their latest greatest hits CD, “Grrr!” while I was working out today, and it struck me just how many of their songs unleash my inner lizard. There is something about Mick’s voice that reaches right into the dark corners of my psyche. It ranges from a deep baritone to a raspy growl to a bedroom whisper that “it’s only rock and roll but I liiiiike it.” He’s really not even subtle about it. What part of “Let’s spend the night together” needs clarification?

Anyway, make all the jokes you want about the Stones being older than dirt, but these songs still totally trip my trigger. Young Mick Jagger was a beautiful, angelic devil (Anne Rice’s phrase for Lestat springs to mind: Brat Prince.), one who could seduce, incite, and inflame. The songs will continue to do that long after he is gone.

Of course, the Stones don’t have the market cornered on rock and roll sexyfuntimes. Remember how John Lithgow told his town that there would be no dancing because it would lead to sexyfuntimes, and Kevin Bacon was all like “Yo, dick move, bro, and I’m bangin’ your daughter” and danced all crazy around a barn and rode a tractor and then everyone made up and wore ugly tuxedos and danced all crazy some more? Anyway, John Lithgow and all those other preachermen who said that rock and roll led to “other things” weren’t so far off the mark.

Because the lyrics make you think about a lot of things. Not just sexyfuntimes, but things like inequality and revolution. Deeper concepts of the human condition. Life outside your small town. “Imagine no religion.” Experimentation, broadening your horizons, walking a mile in someone’s shoes, seeing beyond the narrow borders of your early existence. There are some people who don’t want these questions asked, and they certainly don’t want to have to answer them. How you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm, right?

Rock and roll IS dangerous. Dangerous to the status quo, dangerous to those who have a vested interest in keeping you in line, dangerous to the powers-that-be.

Once that Inner Lizard is unleashed, it’s hard to get it back under control.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

It takes a worried man

Alfred E. NeumannOr a worried Mom, in this case.

Ken and I went down to visit my Mom today, and found her in good spirits. As always, she needed to feed us first, so we chatted while we had lunch. She admitted that she had a bad night last night and cried a lot, but this time it wasn’t about Dad...it was about my sister Diana flying to China.

Diana and her husband and a couple of friends are going with a large group to spend about a week in China. They found a good deal and just decided to do it. (There’s that grabbing life by the horns thing again...it’s the way to live!) Mom wasn’t upset about them going or anything, but hearing that the flight from New York to China (I forget which city they’re flying into) was going to be 16 hours just wigged her out. Di had texted me that Mom was pretty upset about it, so I said I’d try to talk to her about it today.

She seemed mostly over it, but I hate it that she spent several hours worrying and crying over this. I realize that she has an extreme fear of flying, and I’m certain that we’ll never get her on a plane. It doesn’t matter how many statistics we throw at her about the safety of flying, she just hears “plane” and freaks out. I told her that Ken and I were probably at greater risk of a fatal accident on our Route 66 trip than Di and Tom are on these flights. I try and try to get Mom to not fret so much about these things; she agrees in theory, and realizes that it does no good, but she keeps right on fretting.

I think when Dad was around, he was able to pull her back from such relentless worrying. She’s always been a worrier—in fact, I’d say that it runs in her side of the family—but I hate to see her crying about things like this...things that have an infinitesimal chance of happening. I admit that I have a tendency towards worrying, too, which I obviously get from Mom. But I’ve worked to moderate, negate, and deflate it by doing my best to think logically and rationally, and to work it through in my mind. If I thought about everything that can kill us out in the world, I’d probably never leave the house! I just refuse to live my life in fear, and I refuse to let such fears keep me from living a fun and full life. I wish I could impart a little of my attitude to Mom, just so she wouldn’t make herself miserable with thinking such negative thoughts. But I don’t think there is any changing her at this point, so we just have to try to talk her through it, and sometimes she just has to work through it on her own.

Something else I get from my Mom is a stubborn streak about a mile wide. Oddly enough, that seems to be enough in me to counteract the “worry gene.” As in, screw you, whatever or whoever you are, you are not going to harsh my mellow or fuck up my joy. Some things take a little longer than others, but I always find my joy in the end. (I’m now thinking of the hilarious scene in “Ted” when Mark Wahlberg and Ted sing The Thunder Song. That is very much me.)

I wish I could impart a little of that defiance to my Mom, but I know it doesn’t work that way. All I can do is keep telling her, “Mom, you can’t let these things get to you so much. You can’t let them make you this upset.” But with that stubborn streak of her own, she isn’t going to listen and take it to heart until SHE is ready!

In the meantime, I’ll be over here singing “Fuck you, thunder, you can suck my dick,” and as Devo says, “I may be worried now, but I won’t be worried long.”