The Post Politic

As I await the dawn of my 20,075th day on this earth, I feel the need for reflection.  Time enough alive, I should think, to have learned a thing or two. Sorry to say, it hasn’t been all good.

However, owing to the fact that tomorrow is an election day here, and the boob-tube shows nothing but boobs…I couldn’t help but get stuck in the quagmire that is our government

Having learned that cliches are cliches, and euphemisms are euphemisms for good reason, and never more evident than when a pattern of behavior BEGS to be seen for exactly what it is, I do think it’s time for me to call it what it is and like I see it…

And by bullshit, I mean Politics

If you’ll allow, I give you:

The top 20 cliches and euphemisms of this 20,074 ½ day old female, who believes are alive and well in today’s bloody, rotten, stinkin’, crappy, silly, non-productive, infuriating, ridiculous, embarrassing; yet ours…world of politics

The more things change, the more they stay the same – POLITICS

A house divided against itself, cannot stand – POLITICS

Actions speak louder than words – POLITICS

Those who do not learn from history, are doomed to repeat it – POLITICS

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em – POLITICS

Money talks – POLITICS

Stupid is as stupid does – POLITICS

Birds of a feather flock together – POLITICS

Talk is cheap – POLITICS

The ends justify the means – POLITICS

There’s one born every minute – POLITICS

The truth is stranger than fiction – POLITICS

Two wrongs don’t make a right – POLITICS

Cut off your nose to spite your face – POLITICS

Feeding frenzy – POLITICS

Out of sight, out of mind – POLITICS

The blind leading the blind – POLITICS

The status quo – POLITICS

It takes one to know one – POLITICS

A good man/woman  is hard to find – POLITICS

…and trust me, I could go on

But another pattern of behavior ‘frosts my ass’ too.   And you’ll likely notice that many of the above can be applied to what is below

I think I’ll call it the Tolerance/Intolerance Side Show to the circus that is Political Correctness:

Protesting to rename highways, parks, etc., and trying to remove monuments that celebrate confederate Generals because they fought a fight you don’t agree with

Yet…organizing campaigns to rename those same said highways, parks, etc. for people that answered the call for civil rights decades after the fact. The same protesters, I might add, who themselves never cried out for the removal from written history, all who made their lives hell

Removing the Confederate flag from all state and federal facilities because some see it as a symbol of hatred, when in fact, it was a battle flag designed to differentiate it from the Union flag and therefore has historical value; nothing more

Yet, not protesting when a world renowned symbol of the United States, The Empire State Building, is used to herald the achievements or celebrate holidays of the very countries that would like nothing more than to see the United States cease to exist

Removing something as iconic as The Duke’s of Hazard from TV Land because the car had a Confederate flag on it, even though not a single word of a single episode, ever suggested bigotry or racism or intolerance

Yet, if you’re a fan of TV Land programs, have you noticed George Jefferson says the word Honky in just about every episode?

And there are some behaviors that are not so easily categorized, yet the influence of today’s PC madness is evident in the overwhelming number of those who ascribe to these beliefs relating to color:

Listening as people of color tell me that I’ll never understand, could never relate, to what it’s like to be a person of color

True.  Yet at the same time, those said same people of color, tell me they know exactly what it is to be white, because being white means only one thing; privilege

[I get it, in theory.  But I can just as easily say that I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be a bird. It’s irrelevant.  And, another truth is that, unless you’ve walked the back roads of my life…your right to this claim is false.  So let’s stick to the truth that none of us can know what it’s like to be in another man’s shoes, unless we’ve walked in them, and call it a day.]

Sanitizing our history books to shield our kids from the worst in our country’s history, including the path of our growth (that we are still on by the way)

Yet making sure we do include a focus of study that tries to maximize a culture of them vs us, with little regard for how far we’ve come, nor teachings on the strides made in the last 200 years…as though nothing has changed

The worst of it comes out in the various ways we bite each other’s ankles…and to what end?

For instance:

Demonizing the rich for having too much

Denigrating the poor for having too little and needing more

Expecting the government to give more and more

Blaming the government for sticking it’s nose in our business

Tolerance for groups that separate and segregate

Intolerance for groups that point it out

Fighting for women’s equality

Crying that chivalry is dead

Calling for change through peaceful protest for the injustices seen in all facets of the human struggle, especially those affecting minorities

Yet some especially touched by these injustices hide behind a guise of protest for change, take it as the opportunity to loot for personal gain and destroy entire neighborhoods, then scream racism when motives are questioned

Are we so intolerant or jealous of each other’s success that we have to denigrate and belittle?
Are we so comfortable in our misery, we feel we must maintain it at all costs?
Have we forgotten what it’s like to celebrate each other to the point that every gain should be looked at as a loss because it didn’t happen 200 years ago?  100 years ago?  50?  Yesterday?

When all we have to show for the 3 centuries we’ve been a country are broken teeth and bloody socks…why the hell do we even try?

Is this to be our legacy…?

Welcome to the United States

The land of equal opportunity damning

Damned if we do

And by God

Damned if we don’t

Is the only way to prove I’m not a racist to agree with everything a person of color says and thinks?

Why?  Why can I not just agree and disagree with anyone and everyone based on what I believe and be done with it!

Conversely, is the only way to be true to your heritage as a person of color to pretend success doesn’t matter lest your peers think you an Uncle Tom or some other stupid shit?

That’s ridiculous on its face and damned insulting to every person who’s ever made more of themselves than those around them!  REGARDLESS of your heritage.

Is the only way I can prove I’m a strong woman to think and act like a man?

Shit, I’d rather be a cat (I almost said dog, but cats get away with more!)

We are better than this!

We…men, women, black, white, red, yellow, brown, HUMAN…are better than this!

This began as a reflection in the wading pool that is this political swamp, but resulted in getting caught in the current of political correctness, and nearly drowning in the tidal wave of whatthefuckarewethinking!

Enough already!



I end it here…I am 55 tomorrow.
I am seeing the country I love implode because of an agenda I have no interest in adopting as my own.

I am proud to be an American.
I am proud to be a Christian.
I am proud to hold the values I hold and don’t feel the need to label them one way or the other.
I am proud to be a woman.
I hold no pride in being white…I have ZERO say in that.
Nor do I maintain guilt because of it.
I am proud to champion anyone who leaves the world a better place.
I don’t see the race or religion.
I could care two-shits for the land that you hailed from as long as you take good care of the one you are living in.
I will celebrate your achievements, but none so much as your paying forward that which you can to those that cannot.

I am a member of one race – the human one – and unless you expect me to give that up – I’ll always welcome you at my table


Steak, Medium Rare, with a side of MILF

Our Massachusetts exploits end today.  We closed on the house yesterday and the Bay State will soon be in the rear-view.

But, before I leave, I’d like to share one last mini adventure with you.  One of those rare (if ever) experiences that leave you reeling and become written with indelible ink in the memory keeper upstairs.

One that began innocently enough as dinner with friends and ended as noted above.

“Steak medium rare with a side of MILF”


Know the acronym?  Sure you do.  Or you think you do.

If you follow me, you may be wondering ‘What is she doing writing about such things?”

I’m taking liberties, that’s what.  I’ll get right to the heart of it…

MILF = Majorly Intolerant Liberal Friends

See?  Not what you thought or expected.  I am usually one to hold the punchline to the end, but for anyone who found their way here because their engine locked onto the MILF train, I didn’t want you to have to wade through to the end and be disappointed.

So, no luscious MILFs here…just your average non-milf housewife with 50 Shades of Gray Hair sharing a small tale (with a big body) about her last adventure in the state we will remember as as ‘the second worst place we’ve ever lived’, which has nothing (well,maybe a little) to do with the story.

Now for the adventure with a tiny lead in from the last month…

The house sold, the estate sale done, the few possessions we wanted to keep all packed in boxes

and for the last 4 days…

The moving van picked and packed, dinner with friends, closing on the property…oh wait.


Dinner with friends…that’s what I want to share.

How a much anticipated evening of always good food and always good conversation turned into the Battle of the Bilge in this War of Potty Politics

We arrive around 7:30 to this lovely old home, the glow from within spilling onto the dark sidewalk outside guiding us to the wide open front door.  The delicious aroma as you enter leads us back to the heart of the home…the kitchen, where the excited greetings are accompanied by big smiles and even bigger hugs.

Conversation starts immediately, flowing as easily as the wine, belying the fact that we’ve not seen each other in months and months.  But it’s been that way since the beginning; easy conversation covering a wide range of topics from dogs to chickens to jobs to renovation projects to current affairs to politics to…..ahhhhhhhhh, politics.

The men hung around the stove, talking their talk. The women meandered outside, walking their walk, joined a little while later by the men, come to usher their ladies inside to take our places at the table set with obvious thought and care.  The centerpiece platter of perfectly grilled porterhouse and filet sat alongside a lovely old wooden bowl filled with the late fall bounty of assorted greens, veg, and herbs, as colorful as anything you’d find outside clinging to the trees.  Perfect.


As the genders had separated early, I was not privy to the conversation the boys were having during their tour of duty in the kitchen, but as is common, it had been politics (nothing wrong here).  As is also common, especially here in the northeast where conservatives are the minority, and my other half being one of said minority, they are of opposing views (again, nothing wrong here).

However…Emily Post’s advice was forgotten this night.  What should not be discussed at the dinner table, was.

The opposing sides continued their politically charged discussion while seeming to enjoy the fare lovingly and expertly prepared.  I was not overly thrilled with the topic as I don’t enjoy discussing politics at most times, but never less than at the dinner table.  My other half however, has no such qualms.  Politics are his ‘go to’ subjects; his opening, middle, and closing statements. I usually roll my eyes, try to divert, try to zig when I see the zag, try to interject something funny to deflect, anything to change the subject.  Not this night.

Perhaps because the country is in such political turmoil right now?  Maybe because the left and the right seem to be going for the jugular lately?  Could it be because it’s ALL we see and hear anymore?  On the news, in the paper, on the radio…snipe snipe snipe snipe.

Whatever the reason, the subject was as much a part of what was being fed as the steak and salad, but much less easy to swallow.  I sat, as I usually do, quiet on the subject.  I sat, quiet, but becoming more and more uncomfortable as the two-way conversation became a two-on-one way conversation.  I could feel it.  The tension was rising, the food was becoming stuck in my throat, and the wine was not helping.

It was getting personal, but only on one side of the table.

The battle had begun.

The lines had been drawn.

The tempers and voices rising. 

Insults flung.

Demands to “Shut Up” issued.

But…again, from one side of the table.

One side of the line drawn in the salad bowl.

One side, two like-minds, two voices as one…

“Get out of our house”


Our last adventure in the Bay State.

Our goodbye dinner with highly educated, worldly, creative, well-rounded, the highest level of professional, acutely attuned to current events friends…could think of nothing more constructive to say when faced with as true a believer of his point of view as theirs, than…

“Shut Up and Get Out of Our House!”


You got it…

Majorly Intolerant Liberal Friends

Only, sad to say, since the communication I received the following day was not an apology but a justification that ‘my damned husband had pushed them too far’, I’m not sure the F still applies.

Intolerance in any form, whether of one’s beliefs, color, religion, etc. is the root of what’s wrong with the world; what has always been wrong with the world.  It starts wars between countries, helps create extremism, causes rifts in families, drives wedges between friends. I, for one, am saddened to say the least. I’ve never held that friends can only be friends if they all believe the same thing.  I do, however, hold to the notion that respect for one’s individuality goes a long, long way toward keeping one’s friends.

But even more to the point…I’m disappointed that people I’ve held in high regard, considered enlightened, and I believed were very aware of the power of communication, would find themselves in the position of reacting to someone, a friend no less, with opposing beliefs and a willingness to stand up for them, would result in their lowering themselves to the level of a petulant child.

For the Love of a Damned Good Conversation

I was working on a post this morning, having to do with the tons of fun in the sun trying to sell a house in today’s market (yeah, right), when as often happens, a short sidestep away from the center line resulted in being led down another dirt road.  But that’s life, especially my life, as I live for the treks down the less traveled dirt.

This particular step off the line was a conversation with a friend that began with small talk about the Gawd awful heat wave and remedies for sun burns, meandered to the pros and cons of having your home and all its contents spread all over the air waves for any ol’ burglar to scope out, tip-toed into current affairs generally and recent events in the Florida courts specifically, then naturally (!?!) morphed into what it must be like for a child to be raised in a Muslim household that forbids TV, radio, music, internet, and playing with children not of their own religion.

Don’t you just LOVE these conversations that sprout tentacles like a giant squid?  I do…I love the random nature of them almost as much as the feeling of comfort I get knowing we can talk about anything…all at once!  Very stimulating to say the least.

Anyway, post Muslim life discussion, from which we both came away thinking we’d like to try our hand at reading the Koran, the conversation jumped the broom to religion in general.  While one of use believes and the other does not, one thing is certainly true:  Where we find intolerance, bigotry, segregationist thinking, there is usually a religious aspect fueling it.  If we are ever to see the day when our planet’s caretakers can live in true peace and brotherhood…religious fanaticism or extremists, of any kind, must see the end of days.

This of course ‘evolved’ into, well, evolution.  Which as a non-believer in religion of any kind, is in fact, the religion of choice.  Past the talk of apes and chimps, we discussed how humans are shown to have an innate ability to share.  Yup.  Share.  Which of course led to whether being kind and empathetic is genetics or learned, and whether lesser traits, like competing in all respects, is too, learned or innate.  Survival of the fittest after all, with no moral force guiding it?  For the non-believer, the take is that we are just naturally a ‘nice’ animal.  For me, the believer, I tended to agree, but still harbor some doubt.  I do think, that while certain characteristics of humans are innate, most are learned behaviors. Basically, nature vs. nurture.  An old and forever on-going topic of discussion that has its own, very long, dirt path.  We discussed why certain behaviors occur in some animals and not in others.

For instance, the beaten dog.  How can a dog who knows mostly pain from the hand of its human, still find it within itself to lick that very hand the few times it might be extended in what one could only marginally be described as love?  It’s insane.  Yet, it happens all the time.  However, for a child to be reared in the same way, the risk is far, far greater, that the result could just as easily be a non-empathetic psychopath as it could be a loving, thriving, kind, and generous, human being.  Is that a choice? Nature vs. nurture again?  I used myself as an example, and even so, I still have doubts about it…or maybe doubt is too strong a word.

I have questions.

Being a victim of childhood sexual abuse (The year that broke the dam) from the ages of 5 to 14 and a victim of rape at the age of 19, one could imagine that I could have become a bitter, angry, mean-spirited, non-trusting, love-hating person.  But I didn’t (Back on the Road).  I’m like the beaten dog…and I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic here…it’s more a visual aide.  I live a life filled with as much love as there is hate; as much beauty as there is ugliness; as much need for love, both to give and to receive, as distrust of it.  So, it begs the question…was this my choice? Or was I bound by genetics to grow into a woman with a heart and huge capacity for empathy?  I don’t know.

But here’s the rub, and ultimately, the reason for our long stroll down these particular paths…in speaking with this friend, it was pointed out ardently, that I do, in fact, have a wonderful heart, a good and strong personality, a huge capacity for love, and that (this is the key) I’m beautiful on the inside.

Ah yes…the beauty within vs. the beauty without (is that the term? doesn’t sound right, but you know what I mean).  I, for one, actually HATE that phrase.  I love that I am, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a double-edged sword for me.  I fell into the trap long, long ago, that it’s more important, at least initially, to be more beautiful on the outside. It has been my experience, and I just may have to take the responsibility for it  (Delusional Illusions), that people who could not see beyond the surface passed me by without a second glance and without having the pleasure of getting to know me.  I’m not alone.  I’m certainly not unique in my thinking this is the way of things. I say honestly, if it was a choice to be the way I am, it was not an easy one, but for me, the only one.  Why? Genetics? Nurture? (shrugging shoulders still)

So while I do still struggle with this question, the conversation, for all its meandering, did help me see that hard or not, choice or not, I am on the right path.  My path. And if Joe Blow from Kokomo chooses to walk by me because I don’t look like a Playboy centerfold…I say one thing (well, I say it behind his back ’cause I’m nice)…

Fuck You!

We are all beautiful…let’s get to the heart of it, shall we?

Yes…my photo…and yes, I draw hearts in the snow…and the sand…and the dirt…it’s just how I roll.