This -- Obama answering questions from House Republicans -- is SO much better than the State of the Union. I'm swooning over here. Can you imagine George Bush fielding questions from the opposition with such deftness, intelligence and candor? And he finally fought back against some of their ridiculous charges. (Word has it, after it was over, the Republicans gathered 'round him to ask for his autograph.) Where has this guy been for the last 12 months? I hope he sticks around.
I had a bit of a revelation this morning -- or maybe it was something I'd always known, but had forgotten. And that was this: I love voting.
I voted in the Democratic primary, going over to my normal polling place only to discover that the voting machine for my neighborhood (or section or whatever it's called) was broken. I was pretty disappointed about that, because my polling place still uses those non-electronic machines that are like a hundred years old, and I love the satisfying "thwunk" the red lever makes when you pull it, as if to say hell yeah, your vote's being counted. (Take that, chads!) But instead, they gave me a piece of paper with ovals I had to fill out, and I felt like I was back in college, poring over my Scantron form. Except using a ballpoint pen instead of a #2 pencil.
After I voted, I headed in to work, and I was actually a little early -- having allowed myself extra time to vote -- and it wasn't until I had gotten there that I realized something: I was in a good mood. There was a little bounce in my step. I felt ... well, I felt good. I felt proud of myself. I felt like maybe I had made a difference.
It's not like this was my first time voting or anything. I vote in every election. But presidential (and midterm) elections feel important because they ARE important on a national level, particularly the last one, which was, of course, historic. On the other hand, a Democratic primary in which the mayoral candidate doesn't matter, the biggest races are for positions most New Yorkers have probably never heard of (public advocate and comptroller), and the most exciting race is for my own teeny Brooklyn district's councilmember -- a race so close, I hadn't even decided whom I was going to vote for when I sat down with my ballot?
Maybe I was struck because I was voting for a candidate my friend was endorsing, and since the turnout was so low, I felt my vote actually might mean something. Maybe I was proud of myself because I was making a little bit of an extra effort, when most New Yorkers weren't bothering. Or maybe ... I don't know. But as my good mood swelled, I realized, not everyone gets to do this. And we're lucky. And then I felt a little ashamed that I don't realize that more often.
I know there are plenty of people -- people whom I know, even -- who don't vote. (I know someone who didn't vote in the last presidential election. I'm still flabbergasted.) I feel sorry for them. They think their vote doesn't matter, or they don't care about the issues, and that's fine. But they don't know what it's like to be a part of something so big, to feel like you're helping to shape the world around you, in no matter how small a way. It's a nice thing to be able to fulfill your civic duty in ten minutes, with a pull of a lever or the filling of a little bubble. It's satisfying. It's fun.
Thanks, Democratic primary of 2009, for reminding me of that.
At first glance, Vanity Fair's line-edit of Sarah Palin's resignation speech seems nit-picky, snobbish and almost mean. Then look again. Stupefying, right? Fascinating? Hilarious? Chilling? All those things?
Pay close attention to the markings in green, which represent edits and notes from the research department. My favorite: when she refers to William Seward as a then-member* of Abraham Lincoln's cabinet instead of -- whoops! -- Andrew Johnson's. Lincoln, Johnson, what's the difference? When in doubt, just say Abe! After all, he freed the slaves, gave all those speeches and had that awesome beard; he probably had time to found Alaska, too. I also hear he's a terrific sled-dogger.
If I really think about it, I'm terrified that this woman could end up being our president, and disturbed that her supporters will, once again, say things like "We LOVE that she doesn't talk like the hoity-toity liberal media. Stop attacking her, you gutless snobs." Who cares about little things like honesty -- such as the fact that there are actually 19 ethics violations against her, not 15, and that they haven't all been dismissed? Or that the state of Alaska spent not "some 2 million of your tax dollars" on legal defense, but rather $200,000?
But Obama won and McCain and Palin lost, so I'm going to choose not to think about it. For now.
(Thanks to Mike for the link.)
*tweaked for clarity: Per the comments below, Seward did serve in Lincoln's cabinet. But he was Johnson's secretary of state when he bought Alaska from Russia, and I'd like to think, frankly, that a governor giving a major speech would at least Google something like that -- if not know it already.
Oh my God. Can't sleep AT ALL. I am tempted to try to get some more work done, but as that's partly what was causing me not to be able to sleep in the first place -- the other part being a three-day weekend with too irregular a sleep schedule -- I am going to listen to some soothing music (now playing: Miles Davis station on Last.fm) and attempt not to think about work, instead.
Also, no Ambien for me tonight. I feel like Ewan McGregor's character in Trainspotting.
I have some blog topics stored away in my head, but they'll take too long to write, so ... let's see. I am just going to post this series of photos commemorating Obama's first 167 days in office (thanks, Nomi). #30 is, of course, the most heartwarming (just ... sniff), but I'm also rather fond of #17, because yup, we have a president who likes to sit on the ground, fancy suit be damned. (To be fair, I bet Dubya didn't mind sitting on the ground, either.) How odd, though, that his staff isn't sitting on the steps with him -- and also that that one guy's wearing flip-flops. C'mon, man, you're with the president. Show some respect. But don't show us your toes.
#21 made me laugh. I wonder if the president actually watered his Chia head? But my favorite of the whole bunch might be #28, of POTUS racing his dog down the hallway. No leash laws in the White House!
And no, I'm not glossing over the fact that the photo of the Palestinian militants watching TV is chilling. I would just prefer to focus on the cute photos, rather than the unsettling ones, as I attempt to drift off to sleep.
Was last week not the strangest, most eventful week of news, like, ever? Let's break it down:
- Governor of South Carolina Mark Sanford, who had been missing for five days, resurfaces only to confess that he had been "crying in Argentina" (not a big Evita fan, Governor? or maybe a really big Evita fan?) the whole time, having flown there to visit his mistress.
- The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announces that starting with the 2010 Oscars, there will be 10 Best Picture nominees rather than the current five. (I wrote about it here.)
- Johnny Carson sidekick, Star Search host, and Publishing Clearing House dude Ed McMahon dies.
- Shaquille O'Neal gets traded to the Cleveland Cavaliers.
- Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen has the biggest Wednesday opening ever, proving once again that people really, really love dumb movies.
- Famously feathered Farrah Fawcett dies.
- Michael Jackson dies. (I wrote a little piece about MJ and the movies here.) His death breaks the Internet.
- TV pitchman Billy Mays dies, busting the famous-people-die-in-threes theory despite not actually being all that famous.
You know who the happiest person in America was on the day after Michael Jackson's death? Governor Mark Sanford. "WHEW -- sure did dodge that bullet! Maybe I won't have to resign now?"
I'm sure there have been weeks with more, or at least as many, big news stories in them -- I just can't think of any. And frankly, I hope we don't have any for a while. I don't know if we could handle it.
I will admit that I spent some time this weekend on the Internet looking up Michael Jackson tribute videos, such as this one. I was no MJ fan in recent years past, but I'm glad that upon his death, the world has spent a few days celebrating his life, with song and dance and exuberance and joy. That's not a bad way to go, is it?
Oh, one last thing on Michael Jackson I meant to mention days ago: Sure, it was sad, but there was so much that was entertaining in the coverage, too. A New York Times story after his death said that fans in L.A. headed to his house, "some chanting his name, some doing the 'Thriller' dance ..." I'm sorry, but that cracked me up. I just pictured people stumbling, sobbing, down the streets of L.A., randomly busting out the occasional zombie move. Then sobbing some more.
And then another New York Times article quoted Ben Bradshaw, the British culture secretary, as saying that "Billie Jean" was the first dance played at his civil partnership ceremony. OK, what? Now that's a wedding I would have liked to attend.
It scares me sometimes, how awesome I think our president is. Yes, he can't solve everything. Yes, he's made mistakes. And yes, it's possible his presidency could wind up being a god-awful failure.
But as a person? I wanna hang with this guy. Even the simple act of his swatting a fly, mid-interview, makes me gape with pleasure. Why is it that I can't imagine Dubya doing the same thing without falling over? Or making pistol motions with his fingers?
An animal lover might be appalled at his cruel treatment of this innocent creature, who didn't really do anything to anyone. Except bother our 44th president, of course. And I say: You mess with Obama, you PAY THE PRICE.
Awww! The Obamas picked their puppy -- a Portuguese water dog named Bo -- and he is adorable. Even, dare I say it, more adorable than the First Family itself. I kind of love him. The dog, that is.
You can read all about it in the Washington Post, though the article is so breathless and inane, I have to think the editors must've been faintly embarrassed to run it. Either that, or the Washington Post ain't the paper it used to be.
I know this is mean-spirited and petty of me, not to mention completely at odds with Obama's message of unity, diversity and tolerance. On this day of all days, I should be a bigger person.
But this is my blog, so here I get to say it anyway: The thing I hate about Facebook is having to read status updates from people who want to deride and shit upon this historic day. Yes, I KNOW they're entitled to their opinion. And yes, I know that it must be even more difficult to be in their shoes, in which (presumably) they have to read a slew of status updates expressing opinions they find utterly distasteful.
But you know how I know this? Because I've spent the last eight years in this country's political minority, feeling as though the entire nation was against me -- that the things I believed in were considered immoral, dangerous, unpatriotic, wrong. It wasn't just that I didn't feel represented by my government, it's that most people in this country ... well, they hated me and what I stood for.
When I opposed the war and the Patriot Act, I was considered a traitor. When I was outraged by Guantanamo, I was considered ridiculous. When I didn't celebrate tax cuts, I was considered a socialist (apparently, this is bad). I reached a low point in November 2004, when the enormity of how much my fellow Americans disagreed with me truly hit home. And this made me not angry or snarky, but sad.
And now? Now my guy won. Correction: Our guy won. That man who took the oath of office today to become our 44th president -- he speaks for me. Finally! And I'm proud of all of us, not because I'm suddenly not in the minority anymore, but because we marched toward history together, and as a nation we proved the world wrong.
True, not everyone feels that way, and I totally, totally respect that. But to the naysayers and the Obama-haters I say, c'mon, give me just this one day to be proud, to exult, to feel joy. We have such a hard road ahead of us, and there will be plenty of time for you to criticize and rub it in about how stupid and naive we all were. Today, though, I want to be happy. And forgive me, but I want to gloat a little, just for today.
So I know it's asking a lot, but please ... please don't rain on my parade. You've had eight years to mock me and make me feel low. Today, just for today, let me celebrate not merely this man, but also this precious moment, this great country, and this feeling that maybe, if we all work together, anything is possible.
In the words of the song that's playing now as I watch the Obamas dance ... at last.
Hello insomnia, my old nemesis. I'm not sure whether I can't sleep because it's the end of a long weekend, or because I'm stressed about the week to come (Oscar nominations are Thursday), or because I'm being interviewed on the radio tomorrow morning -- twice -- as an expert on "Lost," which is not only laughable but is also making me really nervous.
I've done some radio before, but the unpredictability always puts me on edge. I mean, this shit is live, and on a topic like "Lost"? They'll actually expect me to know what I'm talking about. My tendencies to freeze, blank out and babble will not serve me well here. "And so that guy ... uh, what's his name again? The guy with stubble? Played by the guy who was Charlie on 'Party of Five'? Oh right, Jack!" Over the weekend I watched the season premiere (press membership has its privileges), and now on top of my general stage-fright nervousness, I'm worried that I'll mix up the plotlines and accidentally give something away. "And then it turns out Libby's not dead, she's Claire with plastic surgery! And Hurley's the father of Claire's baby! And Jack's father IS the smoke monster ... and the polar bear!" (Calm down, none of that actually happens. As far as you know.)
Anyway, in regard to my recent blogging negligence, I've tried, I really have, to come up with something that might be suitable to post, but all I've got is a head full of randomness (that sounds like a good album name, doesn't it? please don't steal it). So maybe if I empty it all right now, my head will clear itself for something good and worthwhile. Or not.
- It's 2 a.m. right now, so yay, Happy Inauguration Day! Oh, I probably shouldn't have led with that. Now everything else is going to seem stupid and petty by comparison. Ah well. Let's call that my tribute to George Bush.
- Inauguration Concert, Thought 1: That poor navy guy, messing up not once but twice during the national anthem in front of, oh, only a couple million people. He did mess up, right? First he missed the first two lines, and at the end he started singing "brave" a beat too early. I can't even make fun of this guy because I'm afraid he's about to kill himself or something. Um, moving on.
- Inauguration Concert, Thought 2: It amuses me that the person whose appearance on stage got me most excited was Jon Bon Jovi. My inner aging fangirl involuntarily went, "Squeee!" I told this to a friend of mine this weekend and he told me he hated Bon Jovi. Needle scratching across the record: Whaaaaa? I don't believe, in the history of my being alive, that I have ever met someone who hated Bon Jovi. Oh wait, shoot, I have. I dated a British guy once who, when we were in a bar listening to the sound system play "Slippery When Wet," said he "didn't get" the Bon Jovie appeal, and then when I tried to open his ears to the sounds of awesomeness emanating from the speakers, he waxed rhapsodic on his love of Siouxsie and the Banshees instead. I broke up with him a week later. No offense to Siouxsie.
- Inauguration Concert, Thought 3: Also cracking me up was the sight of the little girl, dead asleep, directly behind Obama. I think it was during the Garth Brooks part of the concert. (And dude, what made him so special that he got to sing three songs?) If you knew her parents, wouldn't you call them and say, hey, you might want to wake little Mary up because she's proving more fascinating to the viewing audience than the president-elect himself? On the other hand, they were probably told to turn their cell phones off. So throw something at them, for gosh's sake. Do your patriotic duty!
- Timewaster: White Whine - A New White Person Complaint Daily. I find this so much more satisfying than Stuff White People Like, for some reason. Who the hell knows who's posting this stuff, what color they are, or if the quotes are even real? It's just funny, is all. Cycle back through the older pages for gems like "Ugh, why do people even bother complimenting me on my car if they’re going to mispronounce Audi?" or "Can’t they just make ski boots that are easier to walk in?"
- Timewaster - If you, like me, were always slightly irritated by Garfield and his "hilarious" antics, feeling that they obscured the personality of the comic strip's true star -- Garfield's owner, Jon Arbuckle -- then this is your lucky day. On Garfield Minus Garfield, there is no cat. Hurrah! But it isn't such a happy day after all, because without Garfield, Jon is just ... sad. Wow, lonely and sad. Check out Jan. 8 and 9 in particular. I may have to rethink this whole "Garfield was useless" theory after all.
- "24" - New addition to the 24 Drinking Game: Drink every time Agent Renee Walker says, "I've got to make this right." Another drink if anyone says, "The agency/government's been compromised." Also, I've noticed that Walker's boss, Agent Moss, is saying "dammit" a whole heck of a lot. Did he and Jack make some kind of deal?
- And now, if your day has not already been eaten up by first-day-back swampage and the inauguration and watercooler talk about "Gossip Girl," I present to you the timewaster that will blow. Your. Mind. Courtesy of my friend Tom, here is the greatest music video of all time. Enjoy.
