I’m not a fan of Kristen Sinema—the Democratic Senator from Arizona who skews more to the right than the left. She’s a DINO—Democrat In Name Only, like West Virginia’s Joe Manchin.
On Tuesday night, Sinema wore a bright yellow dress to the State of the Union address. It’s a dress I wouldn’t have worn, but she did and has been attacked by Democratic pundits for her choice.
That infuriates me.
Men in her position basically have two choices: a blue suit or a black suit and a tie that says “I’m in charge or send more money.” Whereas for women there awaits a minefield. Too colorful? You’re an attention whore. Too bland? You’re outdated, boring.
Attack Sinema all day long for abandoning her constituents in favor of accepting money from conservative special interest groups, but ignore what she’s wearing, That shouldn’t matter at all.
Studly Doright and I don’t go out much other than to dinner on the weekend. Occasionally his golf course offers some entertainment on Friday or Saturday night and if he isn’t too worn out from his work week we’ll head out there for a good time because he knows I crave live music. I only suggest stuff that I think we both will enjoy.
So, when I saw that comedian Rob Schneider was coming to Tallahassee for a one-night comedy show, I thought that could be fun. Studly agreed and I purchased tickets for Saturday night’s show.
Now I have seen Schneider in the Duece Bigelow movies, and Adam Sandler often has a role for Rob. He’s funny in those parts—and while no one’s ever going to consider him for an Oscar, he makes Studly laugh. And Studly’s laugh is THE best. I was really looking forward to hearing that laugh.
Unfortunately, Mr. Schneider used the stage as a pulpit to rage against liberals. I’m a big girl. I can laugh at good-natured ribbing about politics. I know the Democrats aren’t perfect and there’s a lot of humor to be had making fun of us. But Schneider just never let up. Or maybe he finally did—we left about 45 minutes in.
He’s an anti-vaxxer. He has a problem with masks. Okay, so did a lot of people. I get it. He voted for Trump because, something to the effect of, I know the guy, oh and his opponent was a murderer…
It was at that point Studly asked if I wanted to leave. “Not yet,” I said. “I paid good money for these seats.”
So we stayed, watching as others began “going to the restroom and never returning.” When Schneider announced that we can’t say “woman” in America anymore and the WOMAN beside me clapped and cheered and said something nasty about liberals, I turned to Studly and said, “Now we can go.”
Schneider’s running joke for the evening was “I don’t want to get “Chris Rocked” or “Dave Chappelled” tonight. My thoughts as I was strolling out the door: “Honey, you’re not in their league, and I’m not spending a night in jail over the likes of you.”
The worst part is, I didn’t get to hear Studly’s laugh. Sure wish I’d done my research on Mr. Schneider.
My second most read blog post of 2020 is another oldie. I wrote My Heart Hurts in 2016, shortly after Donald Trump was elected president. It’s as true now as it was then, and after yesterday’s breaching of the U.S. Capitol building by thugs who’d been incited to violence by Trump, my heart feels broken.
On a regular day I’m not a terribly organized person. My thoughts don’t coalesce; they flit and flutter like a pair of courting butterflies. Since election eve, though, I’ve been even more scatter-brained. My phone’s gone missing a record number of times. I’ve carried my shoes to the car thinking they were my purse, only noticing I was barefoot when I placed a foot on the brake pedal in order to start the car. I probably shouldn’t be allowed to get behind the wheel.
When Joe Biden was predicted to have won the election I thought maybe I could get my head back to it’s normal irregular operational status. I even managed to sleep seven undisturbed hours on Saturday night, Unfortunately Trump isn’t willing to concede, so I’m still frazzled.
My brain won’t settle down enough to allow me to write. I’m worried that Trump will somehow pull off the ultimate scam. He is, after all, a master scammer. Look how he’s conned millions of people into believing his lies. I don’t trust the process anymore after four years of gaslighting and projection and the undermining of our democratic process. So if tomorrow I accidentally put my phone in the oven and back my car into a wall you’ll know why.
Nothing in my life has prepared me for today. I’m still in shock from 2016. Really. The most qualified candidate in history for the office of President of the United States won the popular vote by three million votes, but thanks to our archaic electoral college system, lost to a misogynistic reality tv star who subsequently became arguably the worst president in American history. Whew.
And now, here we are four years later with a well-qualified former vice-president running against the same asshat who stole the 2016 election. and dare I mention that the aforementioned asshat has a cult following that would literally support him even if he shot a person in broad daylight on 5th Avenue.
Add in the weird QAnon conspiracy theorists who honestly believe that Trump is single-handedly saving the world from a nefarious child sex trafficking organization run by high profile democrats, and you have a real freak show. It’s exhausting.
So, even though I’m not prepared for today, I’m meeting it head on. With beer and wine and perhaps champagne if Joe Biden wins. I’m not making a prediction, but heaven help us if Trump gets four more years.
The sign I planted in support of Joe Biden lasted two whole nights at the entrance to our neighborhood before being removed by some angry old white man. Studly Doright and I actually drove into our housing development yesterday afternoon just in time to witness the old codger pluck the sign from the ground.
I was hopping mad and would have confronted him, but Studly reminded me that the guy was likely armed. He also had a rather large dog with him. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take his picture, but he looked vaguely like an amalgamation of these four angry white dudes. The GOP seems to have more than its share.
Still, I’m celebrating that the sign lasted two full days. I’m surprised it made it through Halloween, but it did. And, I have a backup sign in the trunk of my car. I believe I’ll wait for Election Day to plant it.
I planted this sign at the entrance to our housing development last night, fully expecting it to be gone this morning.
Lo, and behold, it was still standing this morning. Now, let’s see if it survives Halloween.
Many Biden signs have graced the same spot only to be stolen or destroyed within a day or two. Residents of my neighborhood have taken turns replacing the signs as they’ve disappeared. It was my turn. And guess what? I have a backup in my trunk.
Last night was the first of the 2020 presidential debates between Joe Biden and the current occupant of the White House. Studly Doright asked if I wanted to watch the event and I thought about it for all of two seconds before saying, “No!”
This will be the first time in many years that I refuse to watch a presidential debate. In 2016 I watched Trump boorishly looming over Hillary Clinton while he lied through his teeth. While she handled the whole intimidation attempt beautifully, I did not. It made me sick to my stomach, and I didn’t sleep at all afterwards.
Trump represents the worst mankind has to offer. He is without honor, solely interested in enriching himself, and maybe his family if their interests happen to align with his own. And he will say anything, do anything, to screw over the little guy in his quest for the almighty dollar.
What did we do instead of watching the debate? We watched Dexter on Netflix. Yes, I’d rather watch a serial killer killing other serial killers than watch Trump bloviate ad nauseam.
Studly Doright and I drove southwest to Panama City yesterday afternoon to pick up my new-to-me Yamaha Majesty. The nearer we came to our destination, the more prevalent were the signs supporting the re-election of Donald Trump.
Neither of us was surprised. This part of Florida is notoriously ultra conservative, and any Liberal voters are reluctant to advertise their support for a Democrat lest there be nasty consequences.
As Studly and the seller loaded the bike onto the trailer I visited with an older couple out walking their dogs. The woman was a talker.
“We moved here from Asheville, North Carolina,” she told me at one point.
“Oh, I love Asheville!” I said.
“Oh, you wouldn’t now!” She replied. “It’s all hippies and liberals.”
I smiled and winked. “I adore hippies and liberals. In fact, I’m a liberal myself.”
Now, this little woman who’d been amazed that her yappy little dog had taken a liking to me suddenly closed up like a clam. One would have thought I’d grown horns and a tail.
Fortunately Studly had the bike loaded by then and we made our escape. I had images of villagers chasing me with pitchforks and torches. Fun times.
I can’t imagine how wild it’s going to get between now and November. Those pitchforks I worried about might become reality.