OK, I’ve been silent for a long time but…

While it spends most of it’s space talking in circles and not going anywhere, there are points to the recent article in Politico regarding the waning of Elizabeth Warren’s support on the Hard-Left.

https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2019/12/08/elizabeth-warren-jacobin-socialist-left-072693?cid=apn

The article raises some good points – one of the best being “The final outcome is what, in the end, really matters,” Kazin said. “When Trump is president, we won’t have time to say: ‘Well, let’s fight another day. Too bad we didn’t win, but I’m glad I didn’t support Warren, because that would have been a betrayal of my principles.’”
He added, “You can’t change society unless you win elections.” – but it also doesn’t actually move the conversation forward. It’s more of the same circle of pundits sitting in the gloom and contemplating their belly-button lint that ended us up with the current nightmare.

For thirty years or more the Democrats have been limping along, wringing their sweaty palms and bemoaning the state of politics in the modern era. Yet too gutless and afraid to beat the Rethuglicunts at their own game of leading the electorate (read: “sheep”) around by their short ‘n’ curlies. When they HAVE deigned to play hard-ball they’ve approached the game with an obvious case of revulsion at the thought that they might actually have to work up a sweat and get their hands dirty. My crotchety old great-grandmother, Dodie (don’t call her Dorothea or she’ll snatch you bald on both ends) always said “if you’re going to butcher a hog, you gotta catch him first – and that means you’re gonna get dirty.” The same applies to modern politics. If you’re going to beat Trumpletwat and the NeoFacist slime that is the Republican party (including their voters), you have to be willing and able to not only play their game, but you have to be amazing at it. You have to make them understand in their bones that they’ve been played for fools, raped like a $4 Filipino whore, and tossed aside like one of the aborted fetuses they pretend they know so much about.

Neither Sanders or Warren can do that.

Sanders is the grumpy, drunk uncle at the family reunion that everyone tolerates because he’s old and loopy and craps his pants regularly. But he’s also racist and misogynistic, and every bit as much a slave to Corporate America as Trump. His wife is evidence enough of that. Nor is he any real friend to the LGBT community, and his foreign policy (what little there is of it) harks back to Wilsonian isolationism.

Warren started off well, but has morphed into the harpy aunt who has a plan for everything, but rarely – if ever – tells you exactly what that plan is. When she does, it’s a mish-mash of things that don’t make much sense and you know in your gut won’t work, nor will it make anyone really happy with the outcome.

Biden? No. We already have someone in the Oval with a case of Tourette’s, though I’ll give him props for being far less offensive and definitely more amusing than Trumpletwat when he forgets to keep his mouth shut. Aside from that, the one thing he did right as V.P. was to come out in favor of marriage equality before Obama did. Even his Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan beat him to the punch. As for policies, what little he’s said has been largely a continuation of Obama era things that – while far left of what the the Rethuglicunts espouse – are still those that favor corporations over working people.

Buttigieg is perhaps the most realistic and presents some of the most workable policy proposals, but they are largely too centrist to attract the far-left purists. He’s also been saddled with the over-inflated and baseless “racist” trope from fringe elements of the Black community who love nothing more than swinging that dead cat at anyone who isn’t brown. He inherited the racist mess in his city’s police force, and he handled it poorly. That’s a given. The rest is entirely based on an attack piece written by some bitter blogger who intentionally misquoted Mayor Pete, and then led his readers through another diatribe about a well-meaning white friend from his childhood whose comments, though mildly insensitive, weren’t racist either – though the blogger chose to paint them that way in broad, technicolor strokes.

The rest are only in it for the publicity, and for enriching themselves as much as possible before awkwardly bowing out after the polls repeatedly show them with no support. Or, as in the case of Kamala Harris, to do their damnedest to destroy the party from within by taking a cue from Sanders’ 2016 campaign, adding a little Fux Mooz hypocrisy, liberal amounts of hubris and megalomania, and then throwing shit at the wall until something sticks.

The fact is, there is no “ideal candidate” – they’re all human, and that fact brings with it all the human foibles and fallacies along with the hope and vision.

Hold your nose and endure, O’ My Children. Let your voice be heard. Be patient while the workings of economics and time sort out the chaff, and then VOTE. If you don’t vote, you’ve no right to bitch about the outcome and we’ll end up with that traitorous asshole for another four years.

Celebrate what, exactly…

My thanks to The Nation for the opportunity to read Frederick Douglass’ “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July” – a speech he gave before members of Congress in 1852. This is only the second time I’ve read it, and this time it stood out all the more.
 
It is not an easy read. There are too many uncomfortable parallels between that time and this – at least for those with eyes to see.
 
Most strikingly, Douglass’ words then could very easily be updated to fit so many ills of our nation and political system today. The strength and honor of our forefathers contrasted by the greed and cravenness of our present. The slave trade may have ended, but are the poor, the weak, the broken people of any color that much better served by what we now call “government.”
 
Then “religious liberty” was used to justify laws that forced judges and states to return runaway slaves to their owners, and provided harsh punishments for those who aided or harbored them. Today the same argument is used to divide families, to deny minorities equal justice under the law, even as excuse to deny service in the public marketplace, or to justify throwing your child in the streets because they – by Nature’s design – are something other than what your bigotry and craven interpretation of your myths define as “godly.”
Now, as then, violence based on race, creed, sexuality, and politics are considered “normal” in the nation’s discourse by the vocal elements of our society. Few speak out against it, fewer still fight it, and those that do are made mockery of by the crude, the illiterate, and the privileged with the media whoring for them and hanging on their every word. This is your America. It is not mine. Celebrate the slatternly creature you have created, if you will. I will not. Instead, I will mourn the dream of what she was meant to be.

A Yule Blessing

Things I miss today from long ago…
Having my whole family gathered around my grandmothers’ tables – Gram ‘Cille and Granny Annie. Not to mention the giant mounds of homemade fudge, candy, peanut brittle and popcorn balls!
Listening to my Dad, Uncle Dick, and my cousins playing guitar/banjo/uke.
My own tradition of Mommie Dammit’s Orphans and Waifs Din-Din – gathering a bunch of friends who had no home to go to or wouldn’t be welcome because they were LGBT, feeding them a huge dinner I’d made and spending the rest of the day playing games and watching classic Xmas shows.


The holidays have NEVER been about presents to me! They always were, and always will be about sharing the love and laughter of people who mean so much to me.

To all of you, past-present-and-future, may you find the same joy and peace I’ve always known in these days. The Gods bless and keep you.

Now, enough sappy stuff… LET’S EAT!!

You Can’t Go Home Again…

It has been many years, Children, since Mommie Dammit has hit rock-bottom.  Over a decade, in fact.  After 12 years of struggling to build a home and advance my career in Kansas City, enduring 2 bouts of Pneumocystis, and spending my third extended period of unemployment searching vainly for a new job… BOOM!  “Oh, Bottom, there you are!  I’d almost forgotten you; it’s been a long time since last we met.”

 

As usual, I landed not on my feet but on my ass.  Through the grace of the Gods, and the love of my family, I’ve now the opportunity to get back on my feet again.  The move from Kansas City to this teeny-tiny backwater was rushed and very ugly – I shudder to think of the shape I left my old house in.  Yet it was accomplished far easier and with better results than I’d originally thought.  Thanks to my baby sister and my nephew (and a few dozen Rubbermaid tubs!) I packed my essentials and watched my nephew’s spacial-relationship-genius at work.  Between his pickup (even with the shell still on), pickup -box trailer, and my poor, benighted Miss Boogie, we managed to haul more of my crap up here than I ever thought possible.  What I couldn’t bring I can easily replace – and, to be honest, most of it was long overdue.

 

But where is “here”, I hear you ask? Back in Nebraska, in a tiny and quaint rural village. Waco. Founded in 1877 as a railroad stop, and named for the Texan city. Typical of nearly-dead backwaters the world over, there is little here in the way of businesses – a couple of hair salons, a gas station at the I-80 exit, a tiny bank, and the mainstay of every village lost in the boonies, a bar. So far I’ve found the natives friendly, if a bit cautious with the “stranger” in town. After living in the racially diverse neighborhoods of Kansas City, finding myself back in an all-white enclave is something of a shock and one that feels somehow lacking…  Gods!, but I miss my crazy Black and Latina women! They, and a couple of just-as-nuts White women were all that helped me hold on to what little sanity I had left. …shut up! I heard that!

 

Still… living with my baby sister and my youngest niece, only 12 miles from my other sister, and 45 miles from my brother, sister-in-law and 2 of my nephews has it’s selling-points.  I’ve been far too long so far away from my family, and I didn’t realize just how much I missed them until we got back to Waco and it slapped me in the face.  There are stumbling blocks as well. It’s been nearly 2 decades since I lived with someone with less than 4 legs, and that privacy (I now realize) was something I heavily took for granted. It’s difficult to adjust to not being able to run to the bathroom naked with no one to scare but the cats!

 

The long process of reapplying for my assistance programs is well underway, but I have only just begun with the applications. No results or answers to be expected before the New Year, at the earliest. I meet with my new case worker on Monday, and will start that process moving. Hopefully those programs move faster than the State of Nebraska’s – I need to find my own place to live in roughly a month’s time. Some plans change at a whim, others for unknown reasons. Either way, it’s a struggle I’m very familiar with – just with different players in the mix. Besides – any longer than that and my sister and I may have to serve my niece up on toast!

 

Time means change. Change means growth or chaos. Growth is good, and sometimes chaos is too.  It all depends on how you handle it, and what positive outcome you can make out of it.  Not to change means not to be truly living. So, no… you can’t go home again.

Yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus

Well, if this don’t get my rubber tit’s all a-twitter-pated! Barrack has grown opposable thumbs, completed his evolution (I think), and has finally said that same-sex couples “should get married.”

This excerpt from his interview this morning on Good Morning America…

President Obama with ABC’s Robin Roberts

Honestly, Mommie Dammit is dumb-struck. Now if he matches action to words I will finally feel like I didn’t have to hold my nose as I voted for him in 2008.  Y’all have to excuse Mommie Dammit for a moment… this deserves a hefty shot of Stoli in celebration and reflection. I’m so amazed at the suddenness of this move on the President’s part, it actually took me four attempts to spell “opposable” correctly.

Now get your little furry butts over to the White House web site and tell the President – and the Vice President, too! – just how happy you are to finally hear those words!