I heard there’s an election Tuesday. I wish somebody had told me sooner so I could have done a little research. I’ll need to find out about the candidates (two guys, I bet) and see if they differ on any major issues. How different can they be? I just wish there was more television coverage, maybe an article or two in the newspaper. It’s as if the media had no idea we’re going to elect a president.
Would that there were more political ads; that would help. Maybe some mudslinging. The campaigns must be low on money this go-round. And who are their running mates? Why haven’t we heard anything about them? I feel woefully unprepared. My plan: go into the voting booth and exercise my democratic right to wing it.
I was at a yard sale recently with a theme: Kids for Obama, and while I felt certain the kids were induced to sell their toys to make some money unaware that their profits would be mailed to a political campaign, I felt compelled to buy a brownie 1) because I love brownies, and 2) because if eating brownies can help Obama win the election, I will devour a pan full of chocolate goodness. I will not shirk my civic duty. Of course, the $2 price tag for a minuscule brownie square was a bit steep, but it was a fundraiser so I paid up and ate my rich, chocolatey brownie, thinking they must have used some high quality chocolate in these brownie, Scharffen Berger perhaps? They kids were, after all, elitist Democrats.
Buying brownies from these unwitting political pawns reminded me of an ex-boyfriend who was appalled that I once bought food from kids at a lemonade stand—kids who charged a reasonable 50 cents for their brownies and looked at the shiny quarters as better than chocolate. You don’t know what’s in those brownies, my ex said. I suppose you are taking a leap when you buy food from a stranger, but the likelihood that the kids or their families would spend time organizing a yard sale only to spike the brownies with arsenic seemed low. Plus, it would be easy enough to trace the suspicious goods back to the address and have the evildoers arrested. That being said, I have cooked with kids and know that the real danger is that they’re slobbering little germs apt to lick their fingers and stick them back in the bowl.
Let us call on the male world leaders of the world (I suppose “male” is a bit redundant here) to pull themselves together and lay off the comments about Sarah Palin’s looks. At a revolving door meet and greet with the band of Provincial Presidents this week, the leader of Pakistan for one called her “even more gorgeous” than he imagined—and I imagine he had conjured a pretty wild fantasy. Oh, that silly ‘ole Mr. Zardari!
This and other revealing details were reported in an article by The New York Times in its usual cheeky style, transcribing the brief conversations where Palin found herself forced to thank at least two dignitaries for their compliments on her looks. I can only hope that she was coached to be polite and deflect such ridiculousness, and that in the real world, she might have verbally shamed the men back into a conversation about oh, I don’t know, the world. But even these days with war waged in every corner, the U.S. economy collapsing, and most of the world living in poverty, what matters most is, apparently, how pretty the vice presidential candidate is.
Come on guys. I don’t like the woman’s politics, but your comments aren’t much better. And some of you should consider the fact that she might very well be the next vice president of the United States and thus in a position to be looking down and patting your bald heads and dazzling you with her lipstick as she annihilates your countries. That being said, I hope she and McCain lose the election in a crushing defeat. If not, look out boys: payback’s a bitch.
Though commentators would have you believe that the speeches at this year’s convention are not compelling, not on target, not flashy–I have to disagree; the normally staid Democrats have seduced me with their speeches. Sorry, but I’m a sucker for good rhetoric and there were some effective lines in Hillary’s speech Tuesday night like “No way, no how, no McCain” punctuated by humorous moments like her reference to her “sisterhood of the traveling pants suits.” (And seriously, media slackers, enough about the outfits unless you’re prepared to waste equal time on the men’s ties.)
The most effective person in that convention hall though, was a woman whose only speech was to a young Joe Biden: his mother. When he stuttered as a boy, his mother assured him it was because he was so smart he just couldn’t get the words out fast enough; when he wasn’t as well dressed as the other boys, she told him he was handsome; when he came home beaten up by the older kids, she told him to well, go out there and bloody their noses. Nice! Now that’s a woman to get behind–if not for president, then at least for the Secretary of Defense.