Okay, so Plan A is to find a small publisher who might be interested in the project.
If that doesn’t work, Plan B is to self-publish.
In the interests of Plan A, I have three packages to go out in the mail tomorrow.
In the interests of Plan B, I read this.
So, Kleinheider has his column up today and in it, he writes this:
That, in fact, may be what this is all about. There is a segment of elite opinion out there that believes arguing for reduced or restricted immigration is necessarily racist. But that’s an article of faith, not proof.
I invite you to give three guesses as to who holds this segment of elite opinion.
Yes, me.
I, apparently, an an elite. I am also wearing underwear with holes in it. So, make of that what you will. Who knows? Maybe Ariana Huffington also wears ratty underwear that she pulled out of the dryer on her way to the car. Maybe that’s the sign of a true elite, when you can’t be bothered to dig a little further for some underpants in better shape.
If I had to count for you all the times I heard last week, “What if you lose your job?” I would not be able to complete this post without crying. If I had to recount for you how I was told I should have three to six months’ worth of savings “just in case,” I couldn’t make it through this post without laughing and then crying. I’d like to have savings that would last me longer than six days, at this point, but I don’t.
“Elite” is such a nice word, though, isn’t it? Like I have separated myself from ordinary people and sit up on high making pronouncements about shit I’d feel differently about, if only I lived like real people live, ordinary people. Such an easy word that signals to Kleinheider’s readers that I’m not really one of them. I’m like those rich, well-educated people who just don’t know anything about how real life works.
Like those, rich, well-educated folks who went to, oh, say Vanderbilt, Kleinheider? Like those fucking elites?
Is it “elite” to think that people who came to this country when they were not even in school yet should have a way to become citizens of the country that is their home? Is it “elite” to think that our immigration system is so fucked that good people are crushed by it? Is it “elite” to think that giving speeches with topics like “The criminal elements among immigrants,” when you have to acknowledge that yours is the only study that finds such evidence, is xenophobic bullshit? Is it “elite” to have empathy for people who can be blackmailed by their bosses into putting up with all kinds of terrible circumstances because the threat of having them deported is constantly hanging over their heads?
Is it really motherfucking “elitist” to have some fucking sympathy for people having hard times?
“Elite,” like I have chosen to remove myself from the rabble, somehow.
Listen, you can disagree with me. You can think I’m wrong. But if you think I have the opinions I have because I just don’t know what it’s like to live in the real world?
All I have to say in response to that is “You wish.”
(see also Chris Wage.)
Edited to Add: Kleinheider has apologized. I will return to referring to him as Tiny Pasture. Tiny Pasture, that was very nice of you. Thanks.
I was all ready to complain about what a stupid phrase “life partner” is and how we all ought to support gay marriage so that when a dude wants to talk about the dude who’s been his “life partner” for decades, he can either say “spouse” or “husband” or we can all click our tongues about what a shame it is that so-and-so won’t make an honest man out of so-and-so, when they toss out the word “boyfriend.”
But “life partner”?
Ugh, I hate it. It makes it sound like a business arrangement or something so cutesy I about can’t bear it. It’s like, “Oh, gay people, they’re so different from us, even our ‘normal’ words can’t stretch to fit them.”
I was all, “Can’t the Nashville Post come up with some other phrase to use?” I don’t know what, but life partner just sucks.(And clearly, there’s room for innovation, as the writer says at the end of the story that they will have duel state citizenship, which is just a metaphor for them splitting their time in two different states, since states have residents, not citizens.)
And then I read further into the story and it’s worse than just that the phrase “life partner” sounds like a constant reminder of the fact that, here in Tennessee, you can’t have a real, recognizable phrase to describe your relationship. It’s that these guys got tired of living in a state where it seems like most folks don’t see your relationship as real.
The ultimate outcome was tailored for both partners. “Brent was recruited by more than one children’s hospital, but L.A. Children’s made a concerted effort to recognize me and recognize our relationship. And they were very food-savvy,” Carr-Hall says.
Anyway, straight folks with kids, keep this in the back of your mind when you wonder why you should give a shit about gay rights, since you aren’t gay. Gay people with expertise you need when your kid is in the hospital like working places where their partners are recognized and the importance of their relationships is recognized.
If that’s not happening in Tennessee, they will go elsewhere.
Tiny Cat Pants 