I learned a few things about a certain cowboy that I shared on Prose Before Hos. Surprised the heck outta me!

Such a Stain

My heart tonight is with the family and with that man who had to murder his brother for a paycheck.

http://www.innocenceproject.org/

Les Enfants Terribles Say the Darndest Things!

My latest piece for Prose Before Hos on Galliano and bigotry in France is up.

Meanwhile

I have a new piece up over at Prose Before Hos on the GOP and their voter suppression: What’s Behind The Right’s War On Voting The research for it was really a little depressing but there are some bright spots on the horizon.

The Macaroni That Came Out of My Brother's Nose and His Bunk Bed Which Pepermint Patty and I Broke

I collect people. And I hang onto them. I am, in fact, a people-hoarder. I own almost nothing but my friends are almost too numerous to count at this stage in my life. According to my various social networks, I am in regular contact with well over 1,000 people. That's either a sign that I have a serious problem or a sign that I will live really long. Opinions vary.

One of these friends is a girl I have known since I was 9 years old. She was and is a carrot top with a wicked sense of humor. We called her Peppermint Patty since the freckle situation and hair were beyond amazing. We keep reconnecting and remembering why we connected in the first place. (Well, I know why I do. She's smart, hilarious, generous, and fascinating. I have no idea what she gets out of it.) And we recently reconnected again after more than twenty years. She has a wonderful husband, two incredibly engaging imps, a lunatic dog, and a lovely home from which she does important work.

We got to spend a day together last week and yes, I snorted. Several times in fact. I was quite sure I was going to get my giggle on but I really wasn't expecting to find in her memory a wealth of anecdotes from my early years that I had lost in a sea of slights and follies. She actually remembers the best parts of my childhood while I apparently clung to a whole lot of sibling rivalry and latchkey woe-is-me moments.

We both remember the macaroni that shot of of my brother's nose though. That was epic. It was accompanied by a rather large quantity of milk. And it sent the three of us into the kind of hysteria that only children know. I would die tomorrow if I could find that level of pure joy today. Although I came close reliving that moment with PP last week hearing her tale of how we both climbed onto the second bunk of my brother's bed and began rocking it while he sat beneath us egging us on until the entire structure came crashing down upon him from which pile of debris he shouted "GET OFF ME!!!!" while PP and I inquired whether the other had heard something as we jumped up and down. How do I not remember this?

Watching her children, the eldest of whom is the age now that her mother and I were when we met, I see before them a whole strange road of hijinks and low points. They are both as pretty, smart, and funny as their mother and they have their father's handsome carriage, seriousness, and focus as well. I have been worried about the future of this country, and I am worried for them. Although the fact that they are our future is a great relief to me. I am perfectly willing to hand over the reins to these two little creatures as soon as they can handle the ride. I just wish they were getting a better deal.

Neither one got the freckles though.

Tickled Pink

I am very proud to announce that I have joined the hilarious, provocative, and fascinating site, Prose Before Hos. My first piece inspired by the MLK Memorial and his legacy went up today.

The Unelectable Eating the Unpalatable

Apologies to Wilde, but watching the GOP field of candidates chasing their party's nomination this season has me remembering his famous quote about fox hunting, "The unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable" The entire debacle has taken on the surreal quality of a modern day hunt, where a bag of fox urine is dragged around some hills and dales for a pack of overbred dogs to chase, followed by a pack of overbred horses, carrying a pack of inbred elites.

Of course, I do not mean to imply that any of the GOP hopefuls are the products of the kind of close coupling that wiped out the Hapsburgs (A chin, a chin! My kingdom for a smaller chin!) but they were raised in insular, culturally incestuous environments that have left them so far outside the mainstream as to appear unreal to the rest of us.

Exhibit A in the cabinet of curiosities is Michele Bachmann. Mesmerized and mesmerizing, it is hard to look away as she launches herself at fence after gate after ditch after hedge and lands flat on her ass over and over and over again. And mounts back up. While her supporters egg her on, the media and those of us on the left are exchanging those horrified but gleeful glances that parents trapped at a school play trade when someone else's child does something truly awful.

Did she really just wish Elvis Presley happy birthday on the 34th anniversary of his death? Why yes, yes she did. Did she really solicit an interview with Kathy Griffin and does she even know who that is? Yes, and obviously no. These are just the two latest moments in what has became our long national funniest nightmare ever.

The level of schadenfreude Bachmann delivers is delicious although the fear one develops of her true believers puts a bit of a damper on it.

Scarier, is exhibit B: Rick Perry. He appears to be all sociopath all the time. Governor Goodhair hates in a big Texas way. He hates gays, he hates the poor, he hates clean air, and he hates the government he aspires to lead, although he likes the money it hands out. He has used his gerrymandered votes to ratchet up the power of his office which had been rather weak before him, turning Texas into one of the most polluted and most corrupt states in the country. Texas is dirty, y'all.

And as for that oft-touted Texas Miracle? Myth. In fact, Governor Perry has been leading the race to the bottom. One out of four children in Texas is now living in poverty. Texas: Leaving the Children Behind.

Perhaps this is why most Texans would rather vote for Greyhair than Goodhair.

Rounding out the unelectables, we have Rick Santorum of Google fame, and Karl Rove's current crush, the very hungry Governor of New Jersey, Chris Christie. Neither Exhibit C nor Exhibit D has been able to appeal much to the nation's voters despite the attention of Dan Savage and Mr. Toad.

As for the unpalatables, we have Exhibit E who doesn't count, Exhibit F who finally exited stage right utterly confused, and Exhibit G who actually has a shot at coming close to almost beating the incumbent.

I can't explain what happened to exhibit E, F is no longer of interest, so let's move right along to Mitt Romney. Romney has two very large problems:

1) He's sane.
2) He's honest.

The rabidly enraged voters who will bother to vote in the primary have no discernible interest in sanity. And even if Bachmann pulls out (very likely given how exhausted she is beginning to look) and Perry's secessionist self makes Northern voters too uncomfortable to vote for him, Romney can't win the general election.

He and Obama have virtually identical politics, with some exceptions like abortion, but single issue voters cancel each other out. Both men are fatherly, both men are calm, both men seem reasonable. They are virtually interchangeable and Romney won't tell distort his record or his opponent's. We are too nervous as a nation to trade one daddy for another, so we'll keep the one we have even if the other kids don't think he's the cool dad.