Friday, November 17, 2017

Al Franken Shouldn't Resign


 Yes, I'll say it, and I hope it's not too late: Al Franken should not resign. He shouldn't be forced to resign, either by the Democrats who (rightly) can't abide double standards or the Republicans who would love to see a Democratic knock-down. I can agree that what he did to Leann Tweeden was stupid, gross, and as close to sexual predation as it gets, and still want him to stay where he is.

Leann's story came out yesterday and it's shocking Sickening. I've read Franken's new book, Giant of the Senate, so I know he was no angel during his years as a funny man. He recounts in the book how even he had doubts about his past and how it would play when he ran for a job that followed in the footsteps of his hero, Paul Wellstone. Franken knew his state, knew his politics, had a great education, and was smart as hell--but his chief claim to fame was as a sometimes raunchy comedian. (He should have been a shady billionaire blowhard instead. Pure Teflon.)

The former Fox reporter says he kissed her during a 2006 USO skit but went too far, tongue inserted where it wasn't wanted. (Note to men--and women, too--unless you're in the throes of hot passion, grinding face to face--both of you--don't try to stick your tongue down someone's throat. Coming as it does, unexpected and/or unwelcome, the recipient will gag on what feels like a cold, slimy slab of liver. You must know that by their reactions. Just don't do it.)

And worse, while Tweeden slept, Franken thought it would be cute to pretend he was groping her breasts, and even funnier, have his picture taken while doing it. (She was wearing a flak vest and it's not clear whether or not he actually touched her, but the picture is there and it's insulting, demeaning, and damning. Leann Tweeden has every right to be appalled by its existence.)

So, all that said, how could I, flaming liberal feminist, active #MeToo member, wish for Al Franken to go on working in the Senate? I confess I've been torn over this, asking myself why I should accept Franken's admission and apology and still go after Roy Moore or Donald Trump for their ugly sexual transgressions.

Well, yes, they're lowlife scum and don't deserve my defense--I agree--but I want the punishment to fit the crime. Franken has plenty to apologize for--gross, sexist stupidity is finding its day in court and, after so many decades of unfettered applications, it can't come too soon--and he has apologized. Twice so far, without the usual equivocations. He is as disgusted with himself as we are. Leann Tweeden accepted his apology. She said she doesn't want him to resign, adding that he does good things for the people of Minnesota while still acknowledging it was wrong and these things shouldn't be ignored.

She's right. They shouldn't be ignored. Spreading sunshine all over the place encourages women--and sometimes men--to come out of the shadows and tell their stories. We are at a crossroads now and we have to get it right. Sexual predators, no matter who they are, need to be exposed. We should, of course, look to punishment, but who gets to decide what form and how much?

Did Al Franken do something worthy of expulsion? There's the dilemma. I want women like Leann Tweeden to be able to come forward without consequence to tell their stories. I want the men who abused them to feel their pain, to get it, to show us they've learned from these revelations and will work to put a stop to a culture that has for too long equated power with the freedom to use sex as a right.

I believe Franken gets it. I want him to stay in the Senate because his work is important. Too important to set aside. He does good work there. He asks relevant, sometimes burning questions, does his homework, and works for the disenfranchised, the underdogs, the people hungering for attention to their condition. The loss would be painful.

I want him to work for us, against the Trump administration and the GOP majority, against any hateful agents who try to diminish or harm those of us without power. I want him where he can do the most good. I want him in the Senate.

(Cross-posted at Dagblog, Crooks & Liars, and National Memo)

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Me too: Every woman has her story.

With the not-so-shocking sexual revelations about Harvey Weinstein, Bill O'Reilly, Bill Cosby, Anthony Weiner, James Toback, and, yes, our current president, Donald Trump, comes even more revelations from women who have suffered in silence for years and have now come forward, loud and clear.

Women's March, Washington DC, January, 2017
In recent weeks the hashtag #MeToo has become our social networking battle cry--our admission that it happened to us--but the story of its inception needs to be told.  When Tarana Burke, founder of JustBeInc, was a young camp counselor she often counseled young girls who had been abused or neglected or both. One encounter in particular ended badly and Tarana begins her story this way: "The me too Movement™ started in the deepest, darkest place in my soul." 

It's a troubling but familiar story many of us know all too well: some stories are so painful, so close-to-home, we find ourselves turning away when we're needed most. Tarana built a movement on her shame.

As a young girl, as a young woman, I had my share of sexual harassment--leering men, provocative gestures, unwanted, uninvited touches or grabs, ugly invitations to perform sexual acts. None of us, I venture, were immune.  I fended off rape twice, but don't consider myself lucky or blessed. If the boys in question hadn't stopped I would have been just one more among those vast numbers of rape victims. (One I never saw again; the other I ran into from time to time, both of us pretending it never happened.)

There are many ways to violate but none are as demeaning, humiliating, and harsh as rape. And because rape is so horrific, we tend to underplay or diminish those sexual acts that insult, that defile, but don't quite penetrate. As ugly and disgusting as the encounters are, we breathe deep. We were spared. We go on.

Many of the #MeToos have been harassed, solicited, violated, and raped by men who hold power over them. It's far different from a casual, unwelcome advance by a stranger or co-equal. Our normal response to the latter is a sneer, a laugh, a flick of the finger. There is no real threat.

And there's the difference.

We live in a culture where we women are supposed to be able to take care of ourselves, but if we can't it's our own fault. It's what comes from the "freedom" reluctantly given to us by men who reserve the right to make more restrictive rules if we try to go beyond their chains. We see it in government, in corporations, in the church. We see it in all situations where men hold power and use it as privilege. They may grant us our wishes, but we'll have to pay a price.

Our silence condemns us: "Why did she wait so long? How do we know she's telling the truth?" 

Speaking out condemns us: "What did she do to provoke him? How do we know she's telling the truth?" 

Seeking a legal remedy condemns us: "She just wants money. How do we know she's telling the truth?"

Our sisterhood, our solidarity will save us, but so will the millions of decent men who understand and work at keeping us from sexual harm. It takes courage to speak out. We'll commend the brave and stand by the challengers. We will not stop until every last man with the power to diminish or break us understands we will not be silenced, we will not be broken.

And that includes everyone--from a Hollywood mogul, to a boss, to a family member, to a church leader, to the President of the United States. They are no longer safe from us.


(Cross-posted at Dagblog and Crooks & Liars)

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Reporting In: Getting My Life Back




Yesterday, 9/11/17, was a bittersweet day for me.  I couldn't forget it marked the 16th anniversary of the day the Twin Towers went down in NYC, but the day was something of a celebration for me:  It marked the last of  30 radiation treatments, ending, finally, a long journey that began last November, when a biopsy of a breast lump confirmed what we all suspected: cancer.

I've purposely not written much about this part of my life. While it took almost all of my energies, the ugliest parts don't need to be revisited. But if I could, I would heap mountains of rewards on every single professional person who helped me through it.

Between Tidelands Cancer Center in Murrells Inlet, SC, where I had my mastectomy and aftercare, and Karmanos Cancer Center in Petoskey, MI, where I did the chemo and radiation, my care was simply amazing. 

Because cancer is such an awful diagnosis, I suspect a good part of their training is in kindness and empathy. If it is, they all passed with flying colors.  They touch, they hug, they look you in the eye.  They sit and listen. They come up with little take-home gifts you can't help but love. (One was an ingenious hand-made temporary prosthesis called a "knitted knocker", complete with a nipple.)

They worry about how you're doing when you're not with them and sometimes call, just to make sure everything's okay. They worry about finances, drive times, and lodging, and do what they can to help.

They were, in short,  my indispensable life-lines. I told them all that I would miss them terribly but I hoped I never had to see them again.

(This is not to diminish the incredible love and support from my family and friends. They were wonderful throughout--and still are.)

In five days I'll be celebrating my 80th birthday. Even after all of this I don't feel 80 years old and I can't see spending the rest of my life dwelling on either my age or my cancer. As I rebuild my energy and regain my health I have time now to think about how this will change things. So far I haven't come up with anything. No epiphanies, no revelations.  I want to get back to how it was before this. That's all.

I hope I'll be writing more, and if I've learned anything it's that I really must stop double-spacing between sentences. It makes me sad that I have to do it, and I'll probably mess up now and then, either accidentally or on purpose, but it seems to drive even really nice people crazy and I hate that I might be responsible for that.

I'm still going after Trump and Hillary-haters and those guys in Michigan who are ruining my state.  Some things never change.

Monday, July 17, 2017

Why Your Religion Shouldn't Be My Problem

My cousin Arlene was a devout Catholic, so deeply involved with her church the priest at her funeral service told us he was nervous that he wouldn't do right by her last wishes, worried that she would be wagging her finger at him from somewhere up there, showing her disappointment if he somehow messed up. She planned her last rites down to her choice of music, of scripture, and even of altar cloths. It was a tribute to her service to her church that they worked so hard to honor her.

She was a good person who died too soon, having so much more to give. Her devotion to her God was a prominent part of her life, but she did not and would not demand that someone like me should have to follow her lead.

I, too, do not demand that anyone follow my choices about religion. The fact that I don't believe in a god or feel the need to belong to a religion doesn't mean I want to diminish anyone else's devotion or beliefs.  Forms of religion have been with us for thousands of years, the idea of a supreme being and an afterlife so firmly entrenched I am considered the odd one for not going along.

I'm okay with that, as long as everyone else is.  But there's the problem. I try to be a good person--I don't cheat or steal, I haven't hit anyone since I was a kid, I keep my lies to little white ones--but I'm a pro-choice liberal feminist who votes with the Democrats and I don't go to church.  I'm one of them.

I'm all for religious freedom, but I believe even more in freedom from religion.  I'm thankful that I live in a country wise enough to build into our constitution the requirement that church and state must not mix. I'm grateful that there are enough citizens--many of them devout believers in their own forms of religion--who fervently agree with the founders.  But there are forces working now to change that, and I admit they're starting to worry me.

The opposition to same-sex marriage has less to do with legality and more to do with intolerance masked as religious belief.  The political attacks on Planned Parenthood, abortion, and contraception share the Old Testament tactic of blaming and shaming women. The made-up war on Christmas has morphed into a made-up war on Christianity, with no signs whatsoever of widespread or even close-up persecution.  And lately we're seeing citizens, politicians, and religious leaders alike praising God for the likes of Donald Trump, as if he were the coming Messiah.


Their beliefs, baffling as they may be to many of us, are their own until they're not. When it builds to a point where politicians attempt to make laws based on biblical beliefs, boldly seeing it as their right now, we draw the line. Our resistance, it should be clear, is not meant to undermine anyone's religious liberties. We do it to protect our unalienable rights--theirs and ours.

The freedom to worship does not translate into the freedom to rule.  Our laws, our rights, are based on constitution and common sense, and if they intersect with certain agreeable biblical teachings, it's not just coincidental. The idea of fairness and tolerance is, or should be, universal.

But lately religious tolerance has had to take a back seat in favor of  Old Testament meanness. The religious right is neither religious nor right. It's a usurpation, a corruption of centuries-old Christian philosophy, used and abused as a means to gain access to power.  The connection to a religion based on Jesus' teachings is in name only, yet their numbers are growing.

They are gaining power in the halls of congress and in local politics. Donald Trump courts them, promising to help them in their quest to insert their beliefs into our justice system. In turn, they praise Trump, claiming God called him to service, conveniently overlooking his long public history of egregious transgressions in hopes that he might do what he promised.

I mean. . .

Worship in your churches, sing your hymns of praise, pray, and, by all means, comfort the sick and the sad.  But don't bash and hate and call it God's work. When you demand respect for and subservience to your religion, you force our hand. We will resist. We must resist. 

This is not your America. It belongs to all of us. Even those whose faith, color, lifestyle, gender, or country of origin might not fit your idea of acceptance. That's the beauty of constitutional rights; they trump everything else.

They've even been known to save us from ourselves.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

How the G-Man Worked To Bring Down POTUS

After former FBI director James Comey's testimony on Thursday, there were questions about why he waited so long to go public with all he knew.  He'd had two one-on-one meetings with Trump, along with several Trump-initiated phone calls, all deemed inappropriate, at the very least, by anyone who knows anything about how our system is supposed to work.

Comey first met with Trump at Trump Tower on January 6, when the then-FBI director had to tell President-elect Trump about some Russian-generated salacious material against him.  There were others in the room, but Comey said he was  unnerved by the tenor of Trump's comments and began recording the details on his laptop the minute he got back into his car.  He shared those notes almost immediately with other FBI members, so there would be no question about fuzzy recollections or later alterations.

The first private meeting took place on January 27, at a dinner set up by the White House. Comey testified he had no idea he would be the only guest until he walked in the door and say a small oval table set for two.  The conversation took an awkward turn toward his loyalty to the president.  Comey says Trump said, "I need loyalty. I expect loyalty."  Awkward pause, wherein Comey blew it by not saying, "My loyalty is to the country, to the constitution, blah, blah, blah".  Instead, he said something about honesty, and then muttered--to his own chagrin--something about "honest loyalty". Which Trump, of course, took to mean he'd just finagled a loyalty oath from the director of the FBI.

Game on!

On February 14, after an Oval Office meeting, Trump asked everyone but Comey to leave the room so they could talk about Mike Flynn, who had resigned as National Security Officer the day before.  According to Comey, Trump said Flynn was a "good guy" and he hoped Comey would see fit to "let this go". Comey says he only agreed that Flynn was a good guy and made no promises. Comey again took notes and discussed it with other FBI officials. He didn't go to the DOJ, he said, but asked DOJ head, Jeff Sessions, to keep him away from any more one-on-ones with Trump.

Then there were the phone calls, all generated by the president. The whole thing must have seemed satisfying and so buddy-buddy to Trump. Comey, as uncomfortable as he might have felt, took the meetings and took the calls and never told Trump this was wrong.

I submit it wasn't simply because Comey didn't want to hurt Trump's feelings.  Comey is the consummate FBI man and his sniffer is in fine working order. He was on the case and Trump was his mark. With each encounter came more revelations, more ammunition to use to build a case.  He took copious notes, clearly written to share when it came time for a showdown. (He knew contemporaneous notes had been accepted and used effectively in courts in other FBI matters. )

How long this might have gone on if Comey hadn't been fired is anybody's guess, but the firing opened the floodgates for Comey.  If he had insisted at the very start that private conversations with the president were off-limits, his case against Trump would be non-existent.  It may come down to "he said, he said", but given Trump's penchant for lying to save his skin, it'll be more like "he said, he lied".

But the capper came yesterday, when Trump was asked at a press conference if he would be willing to testify under oath that Comey lied about his version of their conversations. Trump said, and I quote, "A hundred percent". 

I call that a clear victory for the G-man.


(Cross-posted at Dagblog and Crooks and Liars)



Friday, May 26, 2017

Our First Un-American President

When Donald Trump rode down that golden escalator in June, 2015 and announced he would run for President of the United States, the guffaws could be heard round the world. What a colossal doofus!  A shady real estate mogul, a beauty pageant owner, a dubious celebrity famous for firing people, saw himself as the perfect person to fill the highest job in the land. Clearly the run would be short-lived and hilariously inept.  In his long history as a famous figure, there was not a moment spent in public service. No sign that he knew a thing about governing or world affairs. No sign that he even cared. What on earth would qualify him?

The closest he had ever come to government involvement was when he pretended he had proof positive our then-sitting president, Barack Obama, was born in Africa, making him illegitimate and unfit to serve.  It turned out, of course, to be a lie, but the fact that the lie would not die energized Trump and gave him the idea that he of all people might just be able to pull that president thing off.

He blustered his way through a long campaign that put him in front as the fiery populist against a rigid, anachronistic loser of an establishment. Along the way he discovered the benefits of the religious right, a gun culture based on fuzzy Second Amendment logic, fears of a rogue government fueled by right wing talk radio and Fox News, and a work force desperate enough to want to believe a slimy billionaire known for stiffing underlings could be their messiah.

The seduction of screaming crowds hooked him but good.  From that first rally forward he would do whatever he had to do to win. He knew he had to give lip service to the needs of the country, but it would always be Trump first, cronies second, and the country a distant third.


He saw early on that his crowds loved him most when he dropped his billionaire mantle and pretended to be one of them. He took to wearing flaming red "Make America Great Again" baseball caps. He developed a rumpled look, used superlatives like "beautiful, fantastic, the greatest", and made promises he could never keep about what he and he alone would do if elected.

He waged war against the press, a known fascist tactic, and the press, to our surprise, didn't fight back. They ate it up.

But his ace-in-the-hole turned out to be Hillary Clinton, a far more qualified candidate who, after years of attacks from both the left and the right, was waging an uphill battle. Just as Trump had pressed for Obama's birthplace illegitimacy with no basis in fact, he took to calling his opponent--without a shred of evidence--a crook. He built a flimsy case based on a handful of errant emails and rejoiced when his crowds took to chanting "lock her up!"

He found he could say anything and his followers would buy it. He was eerily on to something when he said "I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot someone and I wouldn't lose any voters."  He knew his people far better than we did.

And then the thing happened that was so far-fetched no one but a few observant pundits would have believed it:  Donald Trump became president of a country that had long warned against creeping fascism and the threat of oligarchy.  His mission was to take apart a government based on constitutional regulations and social constructs, and now he was on his way.  His motto and guiding principal is as he said soon after taking office: "I'm president. I can do what I want."

Did the Russians have a hand in attempting to alter our election?  Of course they did. Could Trump surround himself with any more Russian operatives? Yes, he could and probably will.  A country that once saw Russia as our enemy now embraces a president who cannot and will not condemn them.  In time, we'll find out why. We will follow the money and find out why. But in the meantime, who are these people with access to our most sensitive secrets? Top security clearances go to anyone Trump wants in the room. The vetting process--a process once seen as serious and inviolate, with a threat of jail for lying on security clearance applications--is another in a long list of obligatory regulations meant only for other people.

Already, less than a half-year in, the Trump administration is embroiled in scandals of a magnitude far beyond anything we could imagine that night we gasped at the realization that this vicious, egotistical, supremely unqualified man-child would be leading our country.  The scope of scandal is breathtaking, even at this early stage, and it promises to get worse.

And now Donald Trump has taken his Ugly American act outside our borders, showing the rest of the world what a terrible choice we've made.  In every country he has visited--Saudi Arabia, Israel, Italy, Belgium--he is an embarrassment, an object of ridicule, a preening, ignorant, crude representation of the worst of us.

He is our first un-American president.  Americans now have to decide what that means and how we'll deal with it.  Our true character is being tested and the fate of our nation depends on the course we take.  Trump may see our presidency as a joke, and Washington as his playground, but we've struggled too long and too hard as a country to become Donald Trump's willing foils. No matter what he says, he just isn't worth it.

(Cross-posted at Crooks and Liars)

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Oh, That Trump! What a Guy! Huh?

So once again I have to apologize for being away after I said I wasn't going away. I went away.  But I wasn't gone. I settled in at Facebook and Twitter, talking short, saving my energies for some real stuff.

So now I'm tussling with what some laughingly call "chemo brain", but even I can see that Donald J. Trump has brought himself around to some heavy shit.  It's as if the whole world is watching, horrified, and all Trump is willing to acknowledge is he's the supreme-top-dog-celebrity-du-jour holding the golden Get Out Of Jail Free card.  Tralalala and fiddle-de-dee. (I'm the President! Can you believe it?)



Lots to cover, but it won't come from me. I can't keep up, let alone make sense of it.  But today a memo surfaced wherein James Comey,  famously canned FBI Director, wrote at the time and for the record that Donald Trump asked him to lay off on an on-going investigation of reluctantly canned National Security Advisor Michael Flynn.  That's a big no-no, but Teflon Don lets this stuff slide off of him.  Lucky for us, those we count on are attempting to stay sane. Things are unraveling, unhinging, getting rather, shall we say, nuts.

And, oh, the foaming! Just today!

What??  That's obstruction of justice! No, it's not! Where's the memo? Why now? Was the convo taped? Nothing to see here. Get those damned leakers!

In that same memo, Comey says Trump started the conversation by telling him he should be throwing reporters who leak classified information in jail.  That was the softball.  Then Trump asked Comey ever so nicely if he couldn't see his way to just let Flynn go.  "He's a good guy", sez Trump.  "Yes, he's a good guy," sez Comey. 

Sigh...

I should be reporting now on what Comey said to Trump but here's the thing: I'm not finding it.  Did he wriggle, did he waffle, did he pretend he didn't hear?  Did he grunt and shrug his big shoulders?  DID HE SAY ANYTHING??

I don't know.

But I just want to say, Go Democrats! I mean it. GO. The ball is in your court. You're in the catbird seat. (Feels good, huh?) You can do this!  Stay calm, get the facts, don't follow dead ends, eyes on the prize. Don't back down. Don't even think about all those other times you thought you had him but you didn't.  Beat the bushes for any Republican wiping tears or rending garments. Bring them into the fold. Don't even hint you're judging the hell out of them. Grab every Independent.  Be nice.

Go, go, go.

Git!

Monday, February 20, 2017

Wherein I'm forced To Admit Only The GOP Can Save Us


So here we are, a month into Donald Trump's wacky version of an American presidency and every day it's something new and nutty. If the actor in this saga weren't actually the president of the United States, this whole thing would be highly entertaining.  A daily heart-pounding serial, picking up where the cliff-hanger from the day before left off--confusing, terrifying, laugh-out-loud--what's going to happen next?


The hapless Democrats, bless their pure hearts--relatively speaking--can only wring their hands and beg the people with the power to look behind a curtain so obviously transparent it's a mystery why we're the only ones able to see through it.

Trump ran on a campaign of shaking things up and now he's delivering in the only way he knows how--by remaining on the campaign trail promising to shake things up.  He loves the crowds that love him back. He pouts, he flounces, he sneers, he snarls, he laughs derisively at anyone who casts doubt. He threatens the people of the world. He cares not a whit about diplomacy or protocol. It's not in him to care. He's here to shake things up.

So last week he tweeted (Note to future historians: when you talk about our first tweeting president, don't hold back), calling certain members of the American press "the enemy of the people".


Well!  Let me tell you! That stirred the dust!  Even more than those times he tweeted about the various intelligence communities' failure to kowtow:

 
Every day we have to remind ourselves that the tweeter calling himself  @realDonaldTrump isn't a fake, he's actually the guy who won that crazy election and is now the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.  The president of the United States is a plain-out ignorant doofus.

So now what? Well, now we admit to our own limitations and look to the Republican leaders to get us out of this. At this point they and only they can do it.  But will they?  We're seeing faint signs of insurrection among the GOP elite, but mostly they're all still of a mind to circle the wagons and pretend (a) this isn't happening, (b) their dignity is intact, and (c) their power is absolutely, wonderfully, absolute.

But, come on, they know better.  Here's the problem: Trump has opened the doors to the candy store and they're the kids rushing inside, grabbing, chewing, swallowing whole before the doors swing shut again.  Too, too delicious.

With the rise of Trump comes such enormous power for the GOP it would take bigger men than they are to look beyond the goodies to see the horrors ahead.  Only Senators John McCain and Lindsey Graham are saying out loud what many of them are thinking: This could go bad.  Real bad.  Don't shut out the messengers. Don't turn off the normal people.  There will come a day when we'll need them.

The rest of us won't sit back and watch this debacle without a fight, but it'll be a long battle unless the GOP gives up some ground, unless they see what the rest of us so clearly see.  Donald Trump may deliver the goods for them but at what price?  When it's all over, where will the country be?  Will those pounds of flesh, the selling of souls, have been worth it?

We know the answers. Now we have to convince the impenetrable Republicans that an unwitting "enemy of the people" sits in the ultimate catbird seat and it's up to them to do something about it. 

I'm wishing us good luck with that.  And Godspeed.


Thursday, February 9, 2017

Now it Gets Personal



For a couple of months now I've been away from here more than I've been around. There are many reasons for that, but the main reason--the major reason--is because one week ago today I had a radical mastectomy. My right breast is gone, along with a nasty tangle of lymph nodes. 

I'll have a bit of a reprieve while I'm healing but chemo is ahead, followed by radiation.  It won't be a walk in the park--I'm not looking forward to baldness and barf buckets--but the one thing I have going for me that too many women in my same situation don't is the reality and the promise of excellent care.  I've had plenty to worry about, but throughout it all--expensive tests, surgery, after-care--cost has never been a factor.

I have Medicare and a moderate-cost, very good supplemental plan. As long as Trump and his cohorts don't foul it up, I should be okay.  But too many people--men, women, and children--are facing frightening medical issues exacerbated by worries based solely on their ability to pay.

We live in a country where most of our wealth has been shuffled to the top 10 percent of our population, where wages and benefits have dropped like rocks and are dropping still, where social and health care programs are at the mercy of reckless, thoughtless, profit-driven politicians.

In every city, in every town, concerned friends and families are forced to set up Go-Fund-Me pages or place money jugs on store countertops in order to pay for desperately needed health care. It kills me to see it, knowing it doesn't have to be this way. It's obscene.

There are bigger fish to fry out there, and I don't plan on using this blog as a personal heath diary.  Ever. I want to be here and everywhere, still fighting against a system that has to be challenged at every turn, and, if necessary, stopped. 

The posts may be shorter for a while, using links to pieces I've found that I want to share, possibly adding more guest posts, but I'll be here. This blog has been up and running for eight years, and with that fool Trump out there stomping our country to bits I'm not about to give it up.

One thing I need to stress: You should know me well enough to know this is not a call for sympathy. In fact, I forbid you to feel sorry for me. I'm in good hands, both personally and professionally, and I have great hope that after the long haul I'll be fine.

There is a cancer among us and it's much bigger than the one newly removed from my body. It will keep growing unless we weaken it, stop it in its tracks, and  then find a lasting cure.
 
We're not quitters and never have been. The GOP is banking on short attention spans to get them through this, but we're paying attention. We've been paying attention. And nothing's gonna stop us now.

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

No, I Won't Quit

I'll be the first to admit that one of the reasons I haven't been as active here as I've been on Facebook and Twitter is because chaos--even planned, organized chaos, as we've seen coming from the Bannon White House--is exhausting!

But there's another reason. Lately I've been raging on in short spurts because it's all I've got. I'm going in for surgery in two days, but I'm confident it'll only be a temporary setback.  The anticipation, I'm hoping, is far worse than the actual deed and the aftermath. The tests, the paperwork, the ups and downs--it's nothing compared to what's going on in my favorite country in the world. (And then there's this: I have Medicare and a good supplemental, ensuring very good care.  Millions of Americans can't say the same. When I get out of this I'm going after those self-serving, self-absorbed bastards forcing us to stay at the very bottom of the list of civilized countries providing health care for their citizens. There must be a limit to our patience; people are hurting and dying because of them.)

We've worked too hard to build this nation. We're not going to let it go up in flames simply because the notion of a celebrity president going rogue was too seductive to turn down.  We'll get back to sanity, no matter how long it takes or how we have to get there. 

And me--I'm not done yet. I want to be there right along with the rest of you, fighting the good fight, storming the walls, voices raised in battle cries heard round the world.  (We'll be doing that, right?)

I'll be doing it at my keyboard but you can bet I'll be doing it. 

See you soon.