Well, That’s That

SJR127 passed.  I wrote about it at Pith.  It’s hard for me to write about politics, I have to say.  Because when a man can stand up in front of the whole damn state and say, “If my daughter was raped, I’d want her to have a choice, but I’m still going to vote for this” I just don’t know how to let that roll off my back.  I mean, is that evil or is that just a level of disconnect so large between one’s desire and one’s actions that it’s… I don’t know… it hurts my head and my heart to try to understand it.

How do you say “I want my daughters to have a choice” and then vote against it?

How do you face them after that?  How do you look in the mirror and see that you are either a coward or a liar, because either you want that for your daughters but are too chickenshit to do right by them or you actually don’t want it for your daughters, but for some weird reason feel like saying you do.

I cannot understand it.

And I know it makes me naive.

But it hurts my heart.

And it makes me so angry.

Jim Malec, Shut Up!

Seriously, shut the fuck up!  You interviewed John Rich?!  And you held your own?  And he came off as a kind of thoughtful person?

What the fuck?

If you hear a sound right now, that is me dying of pride and envy.

Edited to add: I know this is corny to say, but I love reading Jim Malec and the other guys over at The 9513.  Jim especially, I feel like I’m watching a young… someone… a young Jim Malec.  You know what I mean?  Some writers you read and you just feel honored to get to watch them learn to spread their wings.

Reason Number One I Don’t Watch Good Movies

Over the past four or five days, I’ve watched “Live Free or Die Hard,” “Get Smart,” and “Eagle Eye,” which are, for the record, all the same damn movie, and that movie is… um… “Enemy of the State” and “I, Robot” which I hadn’t realized were the same movie, but clearly, in retrospect, are.

I Don’t Ask Much

America,  I just want a very few things.

1.  A fool-proof way to eliminate ticks from my yard that doesn’t involve poisoning me and everything else in it.

2.  A hat that will fit my gigantic head, so that I can sit on my front porch and read in the afternoons.

3.  A logistical way to get to Memphis this weekend.

4.  Cake on my birthday.

I don’t know if it’s just the Monday blahs or what, but I’m bummed about my upcoming birthday.  In the past, my birthday has been a day of grand adventures that usually ended up with Kleinheider staring uncomfortably off into space waiting for the earth to open him up and swallow him whole.  And this year I’m working and renewing my driver’s license.  Oh, I know.  I should have put a spoiler alert on that.

Ugh.  Well, that sucks.  I mean, the thing is, I am capable right now of getting each of those things, but the ticks, figured out.  The Butcher would happily make me a cake, if I said I wanted one, for instance.  It’s not like I’m surrounded by goobers.

I’m just feeling a little like, well, here I am.  Now what?

It’ll pass, but it is what it is.