Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Back to the Future. With SCOTUS.

The amazing side effect about the SCOTUS Hobby Lobby ruling is that it has made every individual (hurry, while there are still individuals in this country) a constitutional lawyer.  At least for the next day or so.  The bandwagon is lurching down my street and, by golly, I’m jumping on.

But first, I had to check into the United States Consitution and its posse of amendments known as the Bill of Rights.  And right away, I can plainly see that the first amendment has been tinkered with until it pretty much says the opposite today.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. – First Amendment of the Bill of Rights  (1791)

The individuals that run a corporation of 13,00 employees (formerly individuals) is now prohibiting the free exercise of religion of these employees.  Individual religious practice has been incorporated by the Hobby Lobby CEO. A “victory” for the free exercise of religion now means the ability of an individual, group, or corporation to assimilate the rights of other individuals.  (2014)

I originally thought that the rights laid out in all of those old, dusty documents just applied to white, male citizens. But now I can see that, at least for Hobby Lobby, women of all color and position are included.  They believe what the CEO believes.  They are all one.  All for one and one for one. 

Perhaps every female Hobby Lobby employee willingly hands over her ovaries at the Hobby Lobby door each morning.  If she desires, she can check them back out at night, but must relinquish them again the next morning.  If that’s what each individual agrees to, fine.  Somehow I doubt every female employee agrees wholeheartedly.  But what if the CEOs of Hobby Lobby change their mind?  Tomorrow they have another issue? Suppose they whip up an amendment to the Hobby Lobby Constitution?  Would all 13,000 employees be required to adhere to the new rules?  Yes, according to SCOTUS. 

On our way back to the dark ages, why don’t we just stop at 1791?

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Dead Man's Daughter Talking


Are we really going to take 15-year-old Bindi Irwin to the gallows because she has an opinion on how her peers are dressing?

Did Miss Irwin suggest that women wear a burqa?  Has she written a slut-shaming blog?  Has she been quoted that women and girls should keep their opinions to themselves and only speak when spoken to?  No.

However, people seem to be telling Bindi Irwin that she should shut up.  She’s being told that her young opinion does not matter, or is even bad.  Imagine in this day and age, a 15-year-old girl is told to keep her opinions to herself.

In my (much older) opinion, I think this might just be a little worse than a girl suggesting that other girls her age cover their asses.

When I was Bindi’s age, I spent far too much time in my room reading beauty and style magazines aimed at teenage girls.  These periodicals were filled with articles about how to make my eyes up to look dangerously sexy.  How to wear a bra to everyone else’s pleasure.   How to walk in high heels.  How to appear confident and coy at the same time.  How to say things to please my boyfriend.
I’m thinking these magazines still exist today.  I’m sure the editors are still at work getting young girls to dress and act in a way that Bindi Irwin might not like.  Bindi and Bindi-like girls don’t have to take that advice nor do non-Bindi-like girls need to take Bindi’s advice.

I do think that women and girls should dress how they want.  It might not always work for them, however.  Job interview?  Dress how you want.  You might not get that job, though.  A young man showing eight inches of underwear probably won’t get that job either.

I also think that young women should be able to express themselves through actions and words and not just their clothing.  Bindi Irwin has done that.  She’s not throwing stones at homosexuals or women whose ankles are exposed.  She’s not donning a white sheet and burning crosses.  She’s not advocating revoking women’s right to vote.  She had an opinion.  She voiced it.  If you disagree, fine.  Wear what you want and don’t have Bindi for a friend.  I’m sure she would give this advice to a friend and would listen to a friend who had fashion advice for her.  She doesn’t have to act on it and neither do you.

It is far more important to help a young girl express her opinions in this world than to shut her down because once a girl has been silenced, it is unlikely she will share her opinion again.  This future silenced opinion could be far more vital than fashion advice.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

What Color is Your Easter Bunny?

Aww, how cute!  And she's gray!

My Easter Bunny is brown.  I’m thinking perhaps a light brown hare.  Strong and wirey.  Able to truck lots of chocolate eggs about.

I’m not sure what color Megyn Kelly’s is.  Quite possibly white.  Angora.  Because isn’t that really what all bunnies look like.  All bunnies are just white.  And super fluffy.

I think Easter Bunnies come in all colors and it has little to do with the color of the Peep and Jelly Bean recipient.  There are gray bunnies, tan bunnies, black and white spotted bunnies.  Bunnies whose ears go up and bunnies whose ears go down.

I’m so glad that Easter Bunnies come in different colors.  Aren’t you?  How bland would this world be if all bunnies were the same color?

Now, what about the Tooth Fairy?  Mine is Caucasian, I think.  Her hair is dark brown with a bit of gray.  She is not Disney Princess young and gorgeous.  She is not wizened and old.  Actually, I think she looks a lot like me.

What color is your Tooth Fairy?

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Five Pound Box of Bullets

Ho Ho Ho from the Lowcountry.

Here's what hangs on trees in Nikki Haley's state:

Yes, if a real gun isn't enough, we can hang an armed glass duck made in China.

And if you require more festive shooting accessories, just string these lights all about the house.

Ah, get the eggnog.  Get out the stockings.  Get your guns.  It's Christmastime in Charleston.  And that crackling sound you hear as you sit by the toasty yule log --- it might just be gunfire.

Merry Christmas.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Traditional Christmas Card Post

Once again, my Christmas Card complaint (formerly a request)

I love gifts.  A surprise in the mail makes my holiday.  In lieu of that, a festive card is almost as good.  I do love to know that I'm not alone in the world.  

If I am on your Christmas Card list, I'm delighted.  Whether you are a friend, an acquaintance, or merely someone who has repaired my furnace or cleaned my teeth, it doesn't matter.  I love a card.  I like those cards to be cute, glittery, gorgeous, filled with confetti, festooned with ribbon, city stylized, kissing kousin kountry, red and green, blue and white, black and yellow, and decorated with Jesus, snowmen, zebras, angels, trees, RVs, balls, bells, and whistles.

I also will read your newsletter.  If you care to send me the long form, I will happily read it because, chances are, I care.  And I really like it when you tuck in a photo of your kids, your dogs or your vacation home.   Especially the kid.   If I like you, then I probably like your kid.  I even want to know if they've made the honor roll or graduated from braces and headgear.

Just please, please, please don't send that one-sided, unsigned, undecorated photo of your dog, kid, or vacation home that poses as a complete holiday card.  And when you print out the envelope on your computer and your housekeeper then stuffs all of the envelopes, I'm going to want to tell you to stuff it.   Put a bit of ink on the damn thing or don't send it.  I'd rather you send me a picture on facebook of your middle finger.  At least that's personal.

Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas
Happy Kwanzaa
Happy Chanukah
and so on

Monday, October 7, 2013

Desperate for a new television show

I feel somewhat sad this morning.

I finished watching the final episode of Desperate Housewives on Netflix last night.

First of all, I am slow.  That's ok.  I don't need to be on trend or ahead of the curve.

The housewives have kept me company for more than two years now.  Once the hubby's travel picked up, his leaving town was not quite as bad when I had the housewives to keep me company after the young one went to bed at night.  We all had wine together and I could yell at them when they were being ridiculous and happy when life worked out well for them.  When things went south we could commiserate with another glass of wine and when there was joy and a celebration, we could celebrate with another glass of wine.  And when Bree was on the wagon, I actually felt guilty for drinking in front of her.

It took me a bit of time to find the right photo for this post.  Most of the photos were way sexy glamour shots.  While this was not uncommon on the show, most of the character were far more down to earth than "normal' folks on other television shows.  Often, they appeared on screen in sweat pants.  Sometimes they rocked them, other times not.

Sure, each character was a bit bigger than life.  Yet, I could relate to many of the situations on the show.  Why?  These characters were my age (or close).  These women weren't just being shown as some awesome cool teenager's bitchy, clueless mom.  Or some Wall Street executive's two-dimensional bitchy, clueless wife.  Or a running menopause joke.  Or a running PMS joke.  From kids to kidneys, I could relate.

Each trip for my husband was a poker game and a hit-and-run accident for me and my women buddies.  If I ever wanted to say or do something hurtful and completely regrettable, I knew they would do it for me.  When I wanted to move and hopefully improve my life, they moved with me.  And now they're gone.  Moved from Wisteria lane.  I went through the deaths of their family members and I could turn to this show when I was hurting from the deaths of my parents.

I didn't even know the end was coming.  I never bothered to find out how many seasons there were.  Those last 10 minutes of the final episode caught me by surprised. I found myself doing that backseat driver putting on the brakes movement.  My right foot could find no traction, no brake.  The screen went black and that was that.  I couldn't stop it.  Couldn't create a new season with my own desperation.

So, I've been through season one of Ugly Betty.  Good show, but it can't replace the housewives.  I am on the lookout for a new show.  It can't be a great show, because then my husband will want to watch, also.  So I have to find something good, not much man appeal, not full of phony Kardashians, and loads of episodes.  Any ideas?

Friday, July 26, 2013

What were once Perverts are now Addicts

Used to be, men that wanted to show their private parts to ladies donned a trench coat and roamed the evening streets looking for victims.  A bit of pre-planning was done, no doubt, to pinpoint the optimal location for privacy and largest pool of victims. The only thing separating Anthony Weiner from the stereotypical trench coat wearing perv is the inability to plan ahead.  There’s no skulking in the shadows for him.  Drop pants.  Take photo.  Press send.

Self-called “sexperts” are calling Weiner’s proclivity for snap and send a sexting addiction.  I’m assuming most people who think there is such a thing as a sexting addiction feel this term is a handful of notches above the term “mental illness.”  Is flashing women an addiction?  I don’t think so.  Hopefully some experts will weigh in on this labeling.  Regardless of what you call it, this man needs help from a doctor.  The compulsion to repeatedly expose one’s gentials to others is a mental illness.  Weiner says he has sought help for his condition.  He claims he has received help from his wife.

Enter stage right the schlumping Huma.  Supporting.  Smiling.  Speaking out on her husband’s behalf.  She’s sticking with it all so she can keep her family together.  She’s certainly free to do such a thing.  Perhaps she’s sticking until she feels better about a decision to no longer stick.  She seems as if she’s a deep thinker rather than a rash decision maker.  However, how sad would it be to see down the road, Huma explaining to her adult son how she felt it was best to be an enabler (she may use the term “supportive”)?  How it was better to let her husband do as he pleased and repeatedly humiliate her in public and private.  She may say in 16 years, “And now, Jordan, you have learned so much from your dad, go out in the world and show everyone what you have learned.  Don’t forget to charge your cell phone.  There are lots of young ladies waiting to hear from you.”

Recently, I’ve read several articles on Huma.  What we seem to admire most about this woman we have labeled “strength.”  Had this situation be reversed, Huma sexting and Anthony supporting, we would not be saying Weiner was strong.  No sireeee.  What seems to pass for strength for political wives these days is to withstand shit storms without an umbrella.  Strength seems to mean getting sucker punched in public and keeping your head up.

Had Weiner been able to keep it in his pants, unphotographed, he would have gone far.  For all I know, he still might.  But first, dude, back it up a little.  Drop out of the mayoral race.  Don’t force people to vote for a liar.  Get help.  Real help from someone with a certificate on the wall with seals, and signatures and all that stuff.  Stop talking about you for one damn minute.  Apologize to your wife.  In public.  Turn in your cell phone and check yourself in somewhere.  Give us a call (without photo) when you are well, in control of yourself, and ready to act like a man, a husband and a father.