So I really hope the Chanukkah Bubbe and Santa are reading my blog, because I've totally found what I want for every single damn holiday my family celebrates in December. (Except my mom's birthday. That'd be mean if I got a present.)
Rick Santorum put his office cubicles up on craigslist.
Seriously, people. I NEED this. I don't know what I'd do with it yet--maybe get one of those back-of-Rolling-Stone pastor dealies and marry some gays? The Univ of KY gyno health services office had cubicles. Maybe I could outfit office chairs with stirrups and perform abortions. Maybe I'll just invite homeschooled (in Virginia, but paid for by Pennsylvania) teenaged boys over to make them cry on national television and push their glasses, which have fallen down because of their wussyboy tears, back up with their middle finger. Really, the opportunities are endless.
C'mon, you guys can scrape up $2600, right?
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
So...can I vote for Barack yet?
You'd think that a person with a master's degree in what is kind of basically finding and interpreting information would be able to figure out what she needs to vote.
You'd also think that the political party that kind of rose to power by simplifying as much as possible to a ridiculous degree would make voting easier in one of what they clearly consider one of "their" states.
And, thirdly, you'd think that when a poll worker tells you that you are "good to go", that the ballot you are about to submit is not provisional.
So, to make a long story short, I have to find a place to get an ID*--you'd also think that a state would not pass Voter ID laws and shut down a good deal of their DMV offices near-simultaneously--and take it to some office a few blocks from my apartment in the next 10 days.
I'm also pissed because of the school board part of the ballot. I remember hearing some woman on the local NPR (they profiled all the school board candidates) talk about bringing Christian prayer in schools and other unconstitutional, fairly disrespectful things, but I couldn't remember the bitch's name this morning when it came time to vote against her reactionary ass. For a second, I thought about just voting for all the male names, but then I realized that there's no guarantee that they didn't say the same prayer-related things, just on a morning I wasn't listening.
So anyway, go vote. It'll probably be less of an ordeal for you than it was and will continue to be for the rest of the week for me.
And if you need any more reason why you should try to vote conservatives out of office, my stupid internet filter is now blocking any site with "blogspot" in the url, flickr, youtube, and google image searches. When my crew ask me why, I like to go all Ms Sarcastic on 'em and tell them it's because they're all just little children who need to be protected from those bad, bad things. And then I tell them about DOPA and, because I don't librarian to morons, they all figure out pretty damn quick that "social networking sites" anymore, are just about anything worth going to online.
*Because why on earth would I spend money and take what is basically a learner's permit test when I'm leaving in less than a month for a state that doesn't make you do those things to get a license?
You'd also think that the political party that kind of rose to power by simplifying as much as possible to a ridiculous degree would make voting easier in one of what they clearly consider one of "their" states.
And, thirdly, you'd think that when a poll worker tells you that you are "good to go", that the ballot you are about to submit is not provisional.
So, to make a long story short, I have to find a place to get an ID*--you'd also think that a state would not pass Voter ID laws and shut down a good deal of their DMV offices near-simultaneously--and take it to some office a few blocks from my apartment in the next 10 days.
I'm also pissed because of the school board part of the ballot. I remember hearing some woman on the local NPR (they profiled all the school board candidates) talk about bringing Christian prayer in schools and other unconstitutional, fairly disrespectful things, but I couldn't remember the bitch's name this morning when it came time to vote against her reactionary ass. For a second, I thought about just voting for all the male names, but then I realized that there's no guarantee that they didn't say the same prayer-related things, just on a morning I wasn't listening.
So anyway, go vote. It'll probably be less of an ordeal for you than it was and will continue to be for the rest of the week for me.
And if you need any more reason why you should try to vote conservatives out of office, my stupid internet filter is now blocking any site with "blogspot" in the url, flickr, youtube, and google image searches. When my crew ask me why, I like to go all Ms Sarcastic on 'em and tell them it's because they're all just little children who need to be protected from those bad, bad things. And then I tell them about DOPA and, because I don't librarian to morons, they all figure out pretty damn quick that "social networking sites" anymore, are just about anything worth going to online.
*Because why on earth would I spend money and take what is basically a learner's permit test when I'm leaving in less than a month for a state that doesn't make you do those things to get a license?
Saturday, November 04, 2006
The mixture is all of us and we're still mixing.
I went to the new city this weekend to look at apartments. Because I'm a huge fucking stereotype, I rock the NPR in any city. In fact, I've actually figured out vaguely what time I should drive through the middle of Ohio when I go home for holidays, so I can listen to This American Life and Le Show.
And yet, I always forget about Louisville's 2 goddam hours of What Do You Know., which Cara and I like to call "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me for people without a sense of humor".
There's also this show I hadn't heard of yet, called Weekend America. It annoyed me. A lot.
For starters, it's the weekend before a ginormous election (that I'm not going to be voting in, but that's a story for another day), so of course that's all anyone's talking about. They had a "blue stater, red stater, and a purpler stater" divvy up things, like an argument about whether the Hubble telescope is more blue or red state.
I hate that red/blue state crap. I mean, I live in a--wait, red, right? It's confusing when you think of yourself as a red diaper baby, but red means the opposite thing now, I guess? I don't fucking know--
In any event, I hate the idea that everyone in the state thinks that way. It's like all this "Hoosier values" bullshit. Technically, I'm a Hoosier. I also think 2 girls should be able to marry each other if they want. Is that a Hoosier value now?
So anyway, I'm driving, and it occurs to me--how much of this red/blue crap is a function of the electoral college?* If it was a popular vote, maybe we could stop pretending that everyone in New York City is in love with Hilary Clinton, and everyone in Indiana thinks she's the devil.
***
And it's not enough to offend the good little liberal in me; after this mess, Weekend America pulls out some new cds from the past week, including the produced-by-Ryan-Adams Willie Nelson album. The "Amazing Grace" cover was pretty interesting, but kind of reminded me of how after Jerry Garcia died all the hippies acted like Bob Dylan was their new messiah. But with Johnny Cash instead of Jerry Garcia. The worst, though (oh, I should probably also mention I'm not much of a Ryan Adams fan...), was the song that started with just Willie and a guitar, and I'm down, and it's good, and then the chorus starts and Ryan has all this "rockin'" start and he didn't adjust Willie's voice and it just gets smushed out.
Yuck.
***
Oh, and I did find a place.
*Yes, I'm perfectly aware that I'm the last blogger in the universe to bitch about the electoral college, and that it's totally 2000 to do so.
And yet, I always forget about Louisville's 2 goddam hours of What Do You Know., which Cara and I like to call "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me for people without a sense of humor".
There's also this show I hadn't heard of yet, called Weekend America. It annoyed me. A lot.
For starters, it's the weekend before a ginormous election (that I'm not going to be voting in, but that's a story for another day), so of course that's all anyone's talking about. They had a "blue stater, red stater, and a purpler stater" divvy up things, like an argument about whether the Hubble telescope is more blue or red state.
I hate that red/blue state crap. I mean, I live in a--wait, red, right? It's confusing when you think of yourself as a red diaper baby, but red means the opposite thing now, I guess? I don't fucking know--
In any event, I hate the idea that everyone in the state thinks that way. It's like all this "Hoosier values" bullshit. Technically, I'm a Hoosier. I also think 2 girls should be able to marry each other if they want. Is that a Hoosier value now?
So anyway, I'm driving, and it occurs to me--how much of this red/blue crap is a function of the electoral college?* If it was a popular vote, maybe we could stop pretending that everyone in New York City is in love with Hilary Clinton, and everyone in Indiana thinks she's the devil.
***
And it's not enough to offend the good little liberal in me; after this mess, Weekend America pulls out some new cds from the past week, including the produced-by-Ryan-Adams Willie Nelson album. The "Amazing Grace" cover was pretty interesting, but kind of reminded me of how after Jerry Garcia died all the hippies acted like Bob Dylan was their new messiah. But with Johnny Cash instead of Jerry Garcia. The worst, though (oh, I should probably also mention I'm not much of a Ryan Adams fan...), was the song that started with just Willie and a guitar, and I'm down, and it's good, and then the chorus starts and Ryan has all this "rockin'" start and he didn't adjust Willie's voice and it just gets smushed out.
Yuck.
***
Oh, and I did find a place.
*Yes, I'm perfectly aware that I'm the last blogger in the universe to bitch about the electoral college, and that it's totally 2000 to do so.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I, on the other hand, love everyone.
While many of the shirts on this site make me really worry about how much hostility there is in this country, and how terrified some people are of anything that even remotely sounds like Socialism and/or Communism, this is just so damn funny.
Seriously fucking hilarious.
Almost as funny as vampirates.
*snurk*
Say it with me now: "VAAAAAM! PIRATES!"
I'm torn: part of me can't wait to get free vampirate booty (see, I can't even type that without cracking up) at ALA, and part of me hopes there's no vampirate presence, or I shall die laughing.
And no one wants a dead-from-mocking librarian.
OK, it's official: vampirates are my new Snakes on a Plane.
And now I think I need a shirt that says that.
Seriously fucking hilarious.
Almost as funny as vampirates.
*snurk*
Say it with me now: "VAAAAAM! PIRATES!"
I'm torn: part of me can't wait to get free vampirate booty (see, I can't even type that without cracking up) at ALA, and part of me hopes there's no vampirate presence, or I shall die laughing.
And no one wants a dead-from-mocking librarian.
OK, it's official: vampirates are my new Snakes on a Plane.
And now I think I need a shirt that says that.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
open letter
Mr. Bush,
You are not the kindergarten teacher of the world. You cannot treat every other human being as though they need nothing more than to think like you.
That being said, if you and yours continue to treat me and mine like we are naughty little children, I'm going to have to start acting like one.
I'm not taking my ball and going home (or to Canada, or Cuba, or where ever). I'm staying right here, in the Midwest, and I'm going to keep yelling until people listen.
I'm not looking for agreement, just acknowledgement and thought.
You continuously treat everyone and everything I care about with contempt and ridicule. How can you govern people you don't respect?
You are not the kindergarten teacher of the world. You cannot treat every other human being as though they need nothing more than to think like you.
That being said, if you and yours continue to treat me and mine like we are naughty little children, I'm going to have to start acting like one.
I'm not taking my ball and going home (or to Canada, or Cuba, or where ever). I'm staying right here, in the Midwest, and I'm going to keep yelling until people listen.
I'm not looking for agreement, just acknowledgement and thought.
You continuously treat everyone and everything I care about with contempt and ridicule. How can you govern people you don't respect?
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
vote, ya mook.
I've been thinking a lot today about the last time this happened, 4 years ago. Happily, things are mostly going much better. Sure, I'm living in --which, I've decided, is pretty much a hole. A hole with an Indian buffet, but a hole nonetheless. But here follows a list of things I was doing in November 2000 that have thankfully stopped:
--Ken is no longer in my apartment, or my life at all. Especially now that I can't find him on Friendster to link to his blog and mock him. Consequently, there's a lot less grossness and whininess going on. More Ken to follow in my recap of Tiff and Jessy's FunTime ElectionNight 2000!
--I have a real job, kinda my dream job, not the coffee thing.
Actually, those 2 are so big I really don't feel the need to list anymore.
I keep moving to type "nacht". Hmmm.
There was drinking. There was chain smoking, but only in the kitchen. The kitchen was also where, at both the graduation and Beauty Pageant parties, we tried to confine the non-clear beverages. That apartment had brand new beige carpeting. When we moved out, fucking over Ken and the landlords was more important to me than fighting for a piece of the security deposit. Ken didn't want people to smoke in the kitchen, "where we cooked," but that becomes a moot point when by "cooking" you mean defrosting and warming up broccoli mac'n'cheese in a push-up device. Also, his mom smoked all the time in the kitchen, and never cleaned out my souvenir Gettysburg ashtray.
There was watching of Angel, and just about anything else that wasn't election results, interrupted by election updates from Ken. Apparently who got to be President was something worth breaking into his internet cruising time, or sad gayboy chatting time, or straight-up porn watching time, or whatever. There is still photographic evidence of that night, black and white polaroids of the 3 of us wearing upside-down butterfly antenna, imitating Hasidic sidelocks. It was the Jew Veep Hat. You know, I'm still not sure why there was a butterfly headband construction paper thing on the coffee table.
Eventually, Tiffany and I went for a drive. A long drive. To Zelionople. Until 3 AM. Then I went home and (unlike Tiff, who turned on the TV to hear someone give the election to Bush) went straight to bed. Then I woke up the next morning to go make coffee in Squirrel Hill, which was nice because at least all of the customers were bleeding heart liberals, so we could commiserate.
I thought that that Tuesday night had been stressful, but that's nothing compared to today. Now we know what 4 years of Bush is like. Back then, it was just three kids (2 of them significantly less lame than the other) under some Pokemon lights in a Bloomfield kitchen, making crazy speculations. You know, I don't remember any of them, but I do know that none were as insane as Iraq, or the taxcut, or random no-checks-and-balances judge appointments.
Speaking of which, let's all send Rehnquist some get-well-soon vibes. Let's not think about what happens if he's not feeling well enough to hear a case concerning this election, because that's when the sitting president gets to appoint someone. Someone who doesn't have to be OKed by Congress until their next session. Can't we just put a thyroid cancer survivor in there temporarily? I nominate my mom.
Random work-related comment: it would be really nice if someone would outline when exactly I count the hour for lunch and when I don't. Of course, if that overtime law hadn't been passed, then I could have just said give me the extra money and not had to keep correcting my time card and have people act like I should know this. Seriously, last pay period, when I worked from 8 to 8 for that stupid program that only 2 kids came to, I've had three different conversations about shit I've done wrong on that timecard. And it's not like I don't ask people to make sure I'm doing things right.
--Ken is no longer in my apartment, or my life at all. Especially now that I can't find him on Friendster to link to his blog and mock him. Consequently, there's a lot less grossness and whininess going on. More Ken to follow in my recap of Tiff and Jessy's FunTime ElectionNight 2000!
--I have a real job, kinda my dream job, not the coffee thing.
Actually, those 2 are so big I really don't feel the need to list anymore.
Tiff and Jessy's FunTime ElectionNight 2000!
I keep moving to type "nacht". Hmmm.
There was drinking. There was chain smoking, but only in the kitchen. The kitchen was also where, at both the graduation and Beauty Pageant parties, we tried to confine the non-clear beverages. That apartment had brand new beige carpeting. When we moved out, fucking over Ken and the landlords was more important to me than fighting for a piece of the security deposit. Ken didn't want people to smoke in the kitchen, "where we cooked," but that becomes a moot point when by "cooking" you mean defrosting and warming up broccoli mac'n'cheese in a push-up device. Also, his mom smoked all the time in the kitchen, and never cleaned out my souvenir Gettysburg ashtray.
There was watching of Angel, and just about anything else that wasn't election results, interrupted by election updates from Ken. Apparently who got to be President was something worth breaking into his internet cruising time, or sad gayboy chatting time, or straight-up porn watching time, or whatever. There is still photographic evidence of that night, black and white polaroids of the 3 of us wearing upside-down butterfly antenna, imitating Hasidic sidelocks. It was the Jew Veep Hat. You know, I'm still not sure why there was a butterfly headband construction paper thing on the coffee table.
Eventually, Tiffany and I went for a drive. A long drive. To Zelionople. Until 3 AM. Then I went home and (unlike Tiff, who turned on the TV to hear someone give the election to Bush) went straight to bed. Then I woke up the next morning to go make coffee in Squirrel Hill, which was nice because at least all of the customers were bleeding heart liberals, so we could commiserate.
I thought that that Tuesday night had been stressful, but that's nothing compared to today. Now we know what 4 years of Bush is like. Back then, it was just three kids (2 of them significantly less lame than the other) under some Pokemon lights in a Bloomfield kitchen, making crazy speculations. You know, I don't remember any of them, but I do know that none were as insane as Iraq, or the taxcut, or random no-checks-and-balances judge appointments.
Speaking of which, let's all send Rehnquist some get-well-soon vibes. Let's not think about what happens if he's not feeling well enough to hear a case concerning this election, because that's when the sitting president gets to appoint someone. Someone who doesn't have to be OKed by Congress until their next session. Can't we just put a thyroid cancer survivor in there temporarily? I nominate my mom.
Random work-related comment: it would be really nice if someone would outline when exactly I count the hour for lunch and when I don't. Of course, if that overtime law hadn't been passed, then I could have just said give me the extra money and not had to keep correcting my time card and have people act like I should know this. Seriously, last pay period, when I worked from 8 to 8 for that stupid program that only 2 kids came to, I've had three different conversations about shit I've done wrong on that timecard. And it's not like I don't ask people to make sure I'm doing things right.
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