But One Undeniably Awesome Thing about True Blood…

The music.  Holy cow.  I raise a toast to the music director of that show.  Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” is like if Chris Isaak and someone had a baby.

Ha, okay, that is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever written.  I mean, really what is not like if Chris Isaak and someone had a baby?  I could say that Sweet Acidophelous Milk from Purity Dairy is like if Chris Isaak and an angel had a baby.  Or that Mrs. Wigglebottom is like if Chris Isaak and Cujo had a baby.

There is nothing nor no one Chris Isaak couldn’t have a baby with and leave you with an awesome metaphor.


So, the College Professor wrote and asked if I would like some daffodils as a housewarming gift.  I said “Of course,” because, well, of course.  I was talking to a historian once upon a time and she told me that daffodils are a historian’s best friend, when you’re out searching for where a house might have been at one point, because people tend to plant them around houses and down walkways and they often outlast our homes.

They’re excellent visual clues as to where people lived.

Anyway, the cool thing is that she’s sending me a shit ton of daffodils.  Not quite a Martha Stewart level of shit tons of daffodils, but close, and it looks like they’re picked specifically to naturalize and spread out in a bed if they’re happy there.

So, I’m going back and forth about where to put them.  I do have room in the beds on the front side of the house, where I have only some hydrangea and the spider grass (and there may be some irises in there, too, but not as many as in other places).  So, they might be nice in there.

But I was thinking, kind of covetously, of Martha’s daffodils, stretching out dramatically.

And so I’m thinking, what about the space between the ditch and the road?  I’d have a great view of it from my front porch.  It’s a great amount of space to just turn over to daffodils; the effect would be very dramatic.

Political Thoughts

1.  Here’s the problem with the Will Ayers thing, as I have observed this weekend–when people my age or younger think Obama is somehow associated with a domestic terrorist, they feel negatively about that.  When they learn that it’s some dude from the 60s, though, and “some dude from the 60s” is as direct a quote as I can remember, they don’t give a shit.  Self-described Democrats and Republicans.

Maybe among people older than us being associated with any kind of 60s radicalism has some great meaning and resonance for y’all, but for us, the general consensus on the 60s seems to be that a lot of weird shit happened back then but it doesn’t have anything to do with us.  We can argue the veracity of that, but my point is that for those of us who weren’t alive in the 60s, we’ve developed a somewhat dismissive and callous attitude towards being dragged, yet again, back into the fights of the 60s.

It’s like the second you say “Obama knows some dude from the 60s” the whole crowd was just like “Oh, well, that’s different.  What do you expect from some dude from the 60s?”

So, I’m with Mark, but for slightly different reasons.  I say, let them name Ayers and explain what’s wrong with him because for young people, learning something more than “domestic terrorist” makes him irrelevant.

2.  Thank the gods I missed this or I would have probably had a stroke and died trying to write a post about how supremely fucked up this is.  But as it is, I get to see how delicious the resolution is and share it with you.

3.  I have been trying for a while to write a post about Palin’s “small town Real America” schtick and I just have two things I keep coming back to.  One, yes, she is as small town Real America as they come.  There’s no need to pretend otherwise or that she’s somehow misrepresenting herself or misrepresenting small town America.  She is what it is at its worst.  I was telling the kids yesterday that it reminds me of when I was in high school and we girls would see something that irked us–like say that there were no girls doing something cool–and we would pitch a fit and they would rectify it by picking some girl who was not the most qualified girl, but the “right” girl.  And the right girl was usually someone who would do okay, but not too well, and who would look good doing it.

It was a total pyrric victory.  You supposedly won something for girls, but only for the right kind of girls, which you were inevitably not one of.

But two, I think the thing that pisses me off so much about Palin–and let’s be honest, I do have a visceral dislike of her–is that I and many of the people I care about deeply thought we made some kind of deal with small town America.  “Fine, Small Town America,” we said, “You want to make sure we never forget that you think that we’re fags and freaks and whores and improper and not right and not like other people and just in general so weird to the point where we can barely breathe, fine.  We’ll stop fighting for room here to live.  We’ll go live somewhere else, somewhere cool, where there are more people like us or at least where people don’t give a shit what we’re like.  But, if we have to give this up, then you have to take it.  You stay on your side.  We’ll stay on ours.”

And I feel like, yet again, the unspoken agreements we make to get through really don’t mean shit.  The deal is, if folks like her want to turn small town America into some seething conservative hell-hole where, fine, but leave the rest of us alone.  But no, here they come, hell-bent on doing to the rest of the country what they’ve done to the small places–and that is, I think, to run the rest of us out.

I just can’t abide by that.  It makes me so damn angry.

I’m not going to concede my whole damn country to those fuckers.