Category Archives: Washington

My Choice

Tomorrow morning, I will leave for work not completely accessorized.  Not being much of a fashionista, that’s not normally a problem.  But tomorrow I will stop to make sure I have the perfect accessory:

I voted sticker

It’s Super Tuesday, and Virginia is in with the in crowd of mostly southern states holding their primaries.

Strangely, here in Virginia, it doesn’t feel much like there is an election coming up.  TV ads are not constant, and while we’ve been getting a lot of campaign calls, there aren’t any more annoying calls than usual.

Most unusual is the almost complete lack of political signs.  For the past 8 years, there have been far more political signs than voters around here.  The absence of them, without any sort of ordinance prohibiting them, makes me think that everyone around me is secretly supporting Donald Dfrump.*

Anyway, I’m sure you’re dying to know:  I’m voting for Hillary.

Philosophically, I’m really in Bernie’s camp.  I’d love government-sponsored healthcare.  I’d love to make college free.  I would love to erase income inequality.

But I’m a pragmatist.

Even if Bernie could get elected (and I don’t agree with pundits that claim he can’t), well, I spent 10 years watching the sausage mill that is our government.  And I simply don’t think Bernie can do it.

Hillary Clinton has my vote because I think she will be a good president.  Because she’s smart and capable.  Because she knows the system inside, outside and upside and downside.

Is she perfect?  Is she my dream candidate?  Nope.  I was for Obama in 2008 (actually, I wanted him to be my candidate beginning in 2004).

I am not blind to the problems with her.  I would rather a flawed candidate than one who is promising more than he can deliver.

And I think that Hillary can beat Trump or whichever GOP candidate is vomited out of a brokered convention.

So early tomorrow, I will cast my vote and get my sticker.

Elections Matter.  Make your voice heard.

* If you haven’t seen John Oliver’s show on Donald Trump, get yourself some popcorn:

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Oscar and Me. And Oscar.

As a young woman, I dreamed of being an actress.  So today/tonight, it is only fitting that I tell you this story.

You know how they say that life is what happens when you’re making other plans.  It’s true.  I’m living proof.

I had everything it takes to be a fine, award winning actress.  I was talented, pretty, had good comedic timing, and a voice that could be heard in the cheap seats.

What I didn’t have was guts.  Good guts.  My GI tract erupted in high school leaving my future in the hands of jobs that offered health insurance instead of fame and glory.  Damn.

Oh, and I lacked the guts to go for it anyway.  Once I made a wrong exit and  my acting career died in a broom closet, that is.

But even after leaving my dream in tatters with the mops and brooms, I continued to pipe-dream.  That’s different than the real thing, and you don’t have to remember lines, or stage directions or what to do with props.  It’s actually much easier.  You get to keep your privacy, too, which is nice.

Most of my friends are aware of this fantasy of mine, and of my need to, from time to time, stand on a table (instead of a stage) and tell a story.  It often involves alcoholic beverages.  The table standing, not necessarily the story.

Right now I’m going to tell you about the night I received my Oscars.  [Feel free to stop here if you’ve heard this one.]

It was an incredibly special night for me.  An honor really.  Well, actually, two honors.  Two Oscars.  Two Awards.  But I only got to make one speech.

It was 1983, and some really fun people worked in my office that summer, one of whom, Jon, was from the area.  Carol, Mike, Jon and I all went to Jon’s house one night.  You see, 1983 was still in the Bronze Age, and Jon’s parents were on the cutting age of technology, because they had a VCR.  And Risky Business had just come out on video.

In the middle of the movie, we took a beer/bathroom break.  And guess what I spotted, casually stuck on the bookshelf in the TV room of Rob’s house.

Oscar 

And Oscar

It turned out that Jon’s father was a filmmaker.  Documentary films.  My pals presented me with two Oscars for Documentary Filmmaking.  Sadly, not one of us had a camera.  Probably just as well, because not many stars accept wearing blue jeans.

Receiving Oscar, and his twin, Oscar, was a special honor to me, since I had neither made, nor been in any documentary films, nor even fetched donuts and coffee for the real filmmakers.  Regardless,  I got to hold Oscar and Oscar, and I got to make a speech accepting my Academy Awards.  So I am in an unusual club of people who have never actually acted or contributed in any way, shape or form to a movie, who has been presented an Academy Award.

Yes, I’m that good.

[Yeah, it’s a repeat.  But one can never have too many Academy Award stories.  Amirite?]

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Fasten Your Seatbelts

Holy shit.

This election just got really interesting.

Antonin Scalia died.  Anybody need a hanky?  I didn’t think so.

Mitch McConnell has already said that the next president should nominate someone for the vacancy.

So did Ted Cruz.

Of course they said that.  And of course, Mitch McConnell will block the nomination of whomever President Obama puts forward, even if the man or woman’s halo is clearly visible to Scott Kelly from space.

According to my husband the lawyer and Google, a 4-4 tie in the US Supreme Court means that the lower court ruling will stand.

Things are gonna get interesting.

Many thanks to my bloggin’ buddy Mark at Exile on Pain Street for letting me know the news.

 

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Water, ummmmmmm

Am I the only one who thinks that this waterfall might just be a metaphor for the way the world is going right now?

Back-asswards if you ask me.  Which of course you didn’t.

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Trump v. Fox — A Solution

You’ve all heard the news.

The Donald’s feelings are hurt and therefore, he stamped his feet, put his fingers in his ears and said “la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-.”  “Not going to debate.”

Of course, that leaves Fox and the debate moderators with a problem:  Too few folks on stage.

After reading this blog post from my home town, though, I’ve come up with a solution.

Empty suit

Image: Turbosquid.com, which I did not make up.

You didn’t click on the link, did you.  You never click on the links.

So I guess I’ll have to give you a hint.

The story in that blog is about a resident of my hometown who works as a photojournalist who met The Donald on a job.  The billionaire tried to sell JP Vellotti a suit.

The story, to me, is a metaphor for The Donald’s offering:

He’s a cheap huckster selling things that just don’t fit.

So in my mind, an empty suit, standing in Donald Trump’s 7th spot on the Fox dias tonight, would represent exactly what Trump has to offer the United States.

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