Tag Archives: Assholes

Dilemma Resolved

First, thank you all who read my post Immoral Dilemma and offered words of comfort, advice and all manner of expressions that showed that my bloggin’ buddies really get me!

To anybody who didn’t read that or click on the link:  On Saturday, a GOP primary was held to choose the GOP’s candidate in my congressional district.  I detest the front-runner (I’ll show you why later on in this post).  Virginia primaries are open primaries — regardless of how you register, you can vote in either side’s primary.  However, this time, if you voted, you were required to swear an oath to support the GOP candidate in November.  My question was basically is swearing an oath, an illegitimate, possibly illegal, unethical oath binding?  Could I just go and vote and swear the oath and do as I pleased in November?  Could I go there intending to lie, even if I felt it was for an important goal.

Comments were on both sides of the question — and if you look at my answers to them, you will see that I went back and forth with each one.  Apparently, I sway with the gentlest of breezes.  Thank you all.  Truly.  Did I say that?  Yeah.  Well, thanks again.

I tossed and turned Saturday night, and did a lot of soul-searching for most of the day.  I read and considered everybody’s comments and realized that both sides were right, which is why I was having such a hard time.  But then just as I had to really make my decision, I read Mae’s (of Maesprose) comment:

Do what you feel is right but when you call someone a liar or not truthful – like the Republican party – remember, what you hate may become your own definition. Just sayin.

And I realized that she summed up (at the 11th hour as it were) just what I thought.  I’m not a liar.  And I don’t want to take on the characteristics of the GOP that I find so disgusting.  So, while on a long, thoughtful walk, I decided against going.

When I got home, though, I found that I had a little elf at home who was helping me.  My husband John had learned that, while they were calling it a “primary” it was really more of a “straw poll” — there were about 6 places around the district (which is huge) where Republicans were meeting in a large room where they would vote — no voting booths, no anonymity, no semblance of a real primary.  Names and registration were taken.

I would have been turned away at the door.

So in fact, the decision was made for me.  But I wouldn’t have gone — as much as I loved how Val of QBG Tilted Tiara suggested I look at it:

You do know acting like the enemy is nothing more than ‘going undercover’. Perfectly acceptable during wartime.

Predictably, the candidate I most feared won.  Barbara Comstock.  She is currently in the VA House of Delegates, where she has voted consistently against women’s interests, and bizarrely, against spending funds for transportation here in NOVa.  She worked as an opposition researcher for decades.  In fact, was one of the main people working on Travelgate and other Clinton-era scandals.  She is a pit bull.  If she ends up in Congress, she will make Daryl Issa look like an amateur.  She is a nasty piece of work.  And this district is so heavily gerrymandered, that she will be there for the rest of her life.

So it looks like I will be busy in the fall.

Thanks again to everybody who offered opinions, options, words of comfort.  You guys are the best.  Can I come and live in your political district?????

 

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Filed under Adult Traumas, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Elections, GOP, Huh?, Hypocrisy, Law, Stupidity, Virginia, Voting, Wild Beasts

Immoral Dilemma

You guys know that I take voting seriously.  I believe in it with every fiber of my being, actually.

it’s not just that if you can’t be bothered to show up and vote that you lose your right to complain, although you should.  But it remains everybody’s right to bitch.  Look it up — it’s in the Constitution.

but really, I think it is important to pay attention, and express your preferences in local, county, state and federal elections.   Primaries count too — because in these screwy days, primaries are often more important than the actual election in November.

which brings me to my immoral dilemma:

Tomorrow is the Republican primary in my congressional district.

Now Elyse, you are saying, “you are too smart to be a Republican!”  Which, of course is true.

However, in Virginia, all primaries are open; I don’t have to be a Republican to vote in tomorrow’s GOP primary!

And frankly, since there is a good chance that whoever is chosen on Saturday will end up representing me in Congress, well, I want input.  And the field is wide open and filled with lunatics.  Some of the lunatics like Bob Marshal are known crazies.  But the front runner, Barbara Comstock, is hardly any better, and she looks like she is always sucking on a lemon.  So I don’t want her.  If I go and vote for one of the real way out loonies, the Democratic candidate stands a better chance.

Are you still awake?  No?  Then how come you’re answering my question?

Now I am getting to my immoral dilemma.

If you vote in Virginia’s GOP primary, you must swear an oath to support the GOP candidate in November.

It is, of course, un enforceable.  They will not know if I break my vow.  Personally, I don’t think it is either legal or ethical of the to ask for such a vow.

Still, I try not to lie, especially when swearing oaths.

But does it count to knowingly make a vow you have no intention to keep because the vow shouldn’t be asked for to begin with?

 

****

 

Sorry for all the typos.  My computer died.  Obviously a Republican.

 

 

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Filed under Disgustology, Elections, GOP, Huh?, Humor, Hypocrisy, Law, Mental Health, Politics, Stupidity, Taking Care of Each Other, Virginia

One Born Every Minute

Just today I realized that I really am a good person.  Nice.  Law-abiding.

It’s true. Because somehow today I did not live out my longest held fantasy.  One that I’ve wanted to enact since childhood.

I will admit that I was close to doing it.  Possibly closer than I have ever been to saying “What the Hell, I’m gonna do it! — Now!  Today!”

I will admit to seriously considering doing it just for the moment when I was struggling to get into the driver’s seat of my car today at lunch time.  The moments.  OK, it took half of my damn lunch hour.

You see, I had an important errand that I had to take care of.

But some asshole had parked so close to my car that I couldn’t even get my purse into the car from the driver’s side.

Did I deserve to be placed in this, ummm, position?  Did I park outside of the white line? No. I was parked just fine, thank you very much.  Parked within the designated parking spot.  Straight.  Did I mention that I was well within the white lines on both sides of my car?  Well I was.

I did not deserve to be treated in such a manner.

So when I realized that without liposuction, a detention in a concentration camp or a colonic, there was no way in hell I could get to the driver’s seat from the driver’s side.  I was annoyed, I stood there for minutes with my hands on my hips, glad there were no children milling about to increase their vocabulary.

But I had no choice; I had to go. So I walked to the passenger side of the car, to climb into the driver’s seat. I soon realized that the driver’s seat was as close to the steering wheel as vehicularly-possible.  I realized that I was also not supposed to exert myself following my surgery.

Did I mention that it was important that I go?

So I struggled to get my body into the driver’s seat without a cerebral hemorrhage.

Somehow, I managed.

The cerebral hemorrhage happened when I carefully backed out of my parking spot, and realized two things:

  1. There were 24.5 parking spots in that section of the parking lot alone, and five floors of empty parking spots on the floors above us; there was no reason for someone to park in such an assholic/inconsiderate manner.
  2. The car sported a special license plate.

Instantly, I started fantasizing. Within a heartbeat, I was transported back in time. Teleported to the very first movie I remember watching.

I was very young.  Young enough to be crabby that my brother, Bob, had control of the TV.  Annoyed that he was watching a movie instead of cartoons.  Annoyed enough to forget that as long as the TV was on I didn’t really care what was showing.  (I had, just that morning, been watching the test pattern.)

The movie was brilliant, and I have never watched the test pattern since.  It was called

If I Had A Million

 It was a compilation of a bunch of sequences where various characters were given a million dollars that they could spend however they chose.  It later became the TV series “The Millionnaire” where a wealthy man would give people $1 million as long as they didn’t tell where it came from.

Anyway, in the move If I Had A Million, WC Fields’ lady-friend Mary had just had her new car ruined by what we would today call an “asshole,” but who was then called a “Road Hog.” When WC Fields and Mary Boland  got their million, they knew just what to do:

They bought a bunch of old clunker cars, and whenever there was a road hog around, they would ram their clunker into him, causing the jerk to totally wreck his own car, along with theirs.  But that didn’t matter, because that was why WC and Mary had bought those old clunkers!

They did this repeatedly.  And it has been my fondest wish since I was about six years old, to be able to do that to the bad drivers, the folks who cut people off, who weave and edge and drive dangerously.

Revenge would be so sweet!

But in spite of being a wise ass, I am not an asshole. I did not smash the car that parked so inconsiderately. I did not accidentally-on-purpose run my keys along the $60,000 Audi Q7 SUV. I did not even spit in its general direction.

It was especially challenging because I realized that the owner is represents everything I hate. I realized that I’d seen him before, changing lanes discourteously.  He (and yes, it was a he) had an overpriced car that he drove like he owned the road.  And those specialty license plates?

Photo Credit:  VA DMV Website

The Asshole was A Tea Partier! Photo Credit: VA DMV Website

 

And I realized that I really needed to feel sorry for the dumb rich guy.  You see, this genius paid extra taxes to the Commonwealth of Virginia so that he could protest paying taxes.

Photo Credit:  izquotes.com

Photo Credit: izquotes.com

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Filed under Adult Traumas, Campaigning, Conspicuous consumption, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Driving, Elections, GOP, Huh?, Humor, Hypocrisy, Taking Care of Each Other, Taxes, Virginia, Wild Beasts

I Coulda Been a Contender!

Have you ever wanted to leave a different impression on folks around you than you actually do?

Yeah, me too.

In high school, boys found me cute.  Now to all you high school age boys reading this, please note that the way to a girl’s ummm, heart, is not via the word “cute.”  By the end of my senior year, I had had it with that word.  I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that my older sister, Judy, was seriously sexy.  Nope.  Nothing to do with that.

As I entered English class one day, my friend Jonathan was still chuckling over something adorably cute I had said or done in the class we had together earlier in the day.

“Elyse,” he said, chuckling, “you are so cute!”

“Really?” I responded.  “Damn it, I always wanted to be voluptuous.

Jonathan’s mouth, no doubt, is still hanging open.

Years later when I played basketball for a law school team (I was an honorary student at the time with gym privileges), I wanted to be tall.  Very tall.  Sadly, tallness is something you cannot fake.  Especially if you are 5 foot 2.  Damn.  And did I mention that I’m slow, too?  Yeah.  Molasses.

But I’m resourceful, so when my opposing guard, all 12 feet of her, hovered over me whenever I got down court towards my basket, I improvised.  I shot the ball from center court.  Of course I made the shot.  Alas it was before you got 3 points for such skill.

Shooting hoops is a skill that has helped me throughout my lifetime.  I am never, ever, out of reach of the trash basket.  Yes, I am that good.

As I’ve aged, though, I reluctantly accepted the fact that I would never be either voluptuous or tall.  So I wanted to be intimidating.  Physically intimidating.  At 5’2″.  You got a problem with that?

You’ll be pleased to know that now, and for the near future, I could scare the hell out of you.  Or anybody.  If only I’d remember to.

Where I live, the guys who design the roads like to pretend that we are waaaaay out in the country.  They do this by insisting on putting one lane bridges over bridges that cross streams connecting two pieces of major roads.  These road designers either have bizarre senses of humor or a sadistic streak.  Maybe both.

As you drive towards the one lane bridge, you note a white line and a “yield to oncoming traffic” sign.

(Google Image)

(Google Image)

It’s terribly quaint.  You are expected to take turns.

But this is 2014, and there are lots of overachievers around here who flunked only one course on the way to their advanced degrees:  Turn Taking.

On Sunday, I approached one of these bridges, slowed down, and stopped at the white line.  It was the oncoming car’s turn.  After the driver of the oncoming car went, I started forward to take my turn.

Flying down the hill towards me and the one lane bridge I hadn’t yet reached, was someone who didn’t know how to take turns.  And she wasn’t going to stop her Mercedes SUV for me.

My mouth ran on with some choice words, but my foot wisely pressed the brake, and the collision that would have otherwise occurred, didn’t.  But I was, pissed.  And swearing.  And really wishing that I was a frightening, imposing looking person so that I could chase after the asshole and confront her.  Yell at her.  Threaten her.  Teach her how to wait for her bloomin’ turn.

A mile down the road I stopped short and pulled over.

“SHIT!” I shouted as I realized that I had missed my chance.  My chance to stand in front of someone and scare them.  To make them wonder just what I am capable of.  To wonder if they would be able to survive an encounter with me.  All 5’2″ of me.

Because you see, these days I’m a wee bit scary looking.  I look like I’ve been in a knife fight.  Like an abused wife.  But like someone likely gave way more than she got.

Yup.  You can call me Scarface.

Remember last month when I told you about the Valentine’s gift I got? You remember, don’t you — I got melanoma!  (Although, I would have preferred flowers.)

In the intervening weeks, I’ve de-melanoma’d.  Yup, I’ve had it taken out by a plastic surgeon.  And while I will look just fine in two shakes of a dog’s tail, right now I look a bit intimidating.

OK, So I have no makeup on.  Sue me.  Just Don't Mess with Me!

OK, So I have no makeup on. Sue me. Just Don’t Mess with Me!

AND I DIDN’T USE IT!  I didn’t chase after her and make her fear for her life!  I didn’t teach her how to take turns!  Damn it!  I coulda been a contender!

*     *     *

This was just a little ditty to let you know that I had my surgery, that I am now cancer free and just fine, thank you very much.

But what about you?  Did you do what I told you? (No comments from you, Guap!)

Save your skin.  Right now.  Listen to me, and follow my instructions precisely:

  1. Go into your bathroom
  2. Take off all of your clothes
  3. Examine your skin
  4. Check spots, moles and discolorations carefully
  5. If anything doesn’t look right, if you have a bad feeling, if something is bigger or darker or just different, go to a dermatologist and have it checked out.

Even though I look pretty scary now, I won’t for long.  But I won’t forget to use what I have — I will intimidate assholes for several weeks until my scar fades.

But you know what?  The real way I’ll get back at folks who don’t know how to take turns is to take away their sunscreen.  That’ll fix ’em!

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Filed under Cancer, Driving, Health and Medicine, Hey Doc?, Humor, Melanoma, Out Damn Spot!, Stupidity, Traffic

Obama Is A Weak Leader: A Generic Republican Interview

Do you ever feel like another blogger has occupied your brain?  Well I certainly did when I read this guest post by the brilliant  List of X one of my very favorite blogging buddies.  Please send him a message in the comments — a strong message!

*    *     *

From the start of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, every Republican leader and right-wing pundit has criticized Barack Obama for not being tough enough on Russians. If we could interview a generic Republican leader, the interview would go something like this…

Journalist: “Generic Republican Leader, would you have a few minutes to talk about Barack Obama’s response to the crisis in Ukraine?”

Generic Republican Leader: “Yeah, sure.”

Journalist: “Do you agree with the way Obama is handling the crisis?”

GRL: “I don’t. Obama has proved himself to be a weak leader. He needs to be strong, and get tough on Putin.”

Journalist: “And do what?”

GRL: “Obama needs to lead.”

Journalist: “How?”

GRL: “By being a strong and decisive leader.”

Journalist: “Which is…?”

GRL: “Which is the opposite of a weak leader like Obama.”

Journalist: “So what, do you think, is Obama’s weakness?”

GRL: “He’s not a strong leader.”

Journalist: “But what he should do to become a strong leader?”

GRL: “He should act decisively.”

Journalist: “And by ‘act” you mean…?

GRL: “Not mince words, like he does.”

Journalist: “Should military option be on the table?”

GRL: “All options should be on the table – military, diplomatic… but not vegetarian, I hate that option.”

Journalist: “Do you think it’s time for diplomacy?”

GRL: “No, it’s time to send Putin a message.”

Journalist: “But not for diplomacy?”

GRL: “No, because we’re just going to send a message, and we’re not interested in anything Putin has to say to us.”

Journalist: “So what message should Obama send to Putin?”

GRL: “It has to be strong message.”

Journalist: “About what?”

GRL: “That we’re strong and we’re not going to stand for it.”

Journalist: “And what should we do if Putin ignores our message?”

GRL: “We should act.”

Journalist: “Act how?”

GRL: “Decisively.”

Journalist: “But what should we do exactly?”

GRL: “We should put an end to Putin’s imperial ambitions.”

Journalist: “Would you oppose Obama if he proposed a military action?”

GRL: “Yes.”

Journalist: “Would you oppose Obama–

GRL: “Yes.”

Journalist: “Sorry, I haven’t actually finished the question.”

GRL: “Oh. I thought you did. What was the question?”

Journalist: “Would you oppose Obama–

GRL: “Yes.  Absolutely.  My answers still stands.”

Journalist: “So what do you propose?”

GRL: “We need to send him a strong message.

Journalist: “To Putin?”

GRL: “No, to Obama. What about Putin?”

Journalist: “You also wanted to send a strong message to Putin.”

GRL: “Right. Then we need to send two strong messages. Or we can just send it to Obama and copy Putin on it.”

Journalist: “Shouldn’t Obama, as president, send the message himself?”

GRL: “No, he’s too weak.”

Journalist: “But it’s just a message. Obama can just type it and press ‘Send’.”

GRL: “No, Obama needs to physically print the message and walk to the mailbox to send it. Otherwise Putin will see that Obama is too weak to even walk to a mailbox. We need the president who can not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk. We need a strong president!”

Journalist: “Do you think Putin is a strong leader?”

GRL: “Yes, definitely.”

Journalist: “So do you think Obama should be more like Putin?”

GRL: “………….Have I told you that Obamacare will kill three million jobs?”

Journalist: “Thank you for the interview. Any last words for our readers, Generic Republican Leader?”

GRL: “Yes. Vote GOP in 2014! Unlike Obama, we have a clear, strong, and decisive foreign policy!”

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