“It is difficult/
to get the news from poems/
yet men die miserably every day/
for lack/
of what is found there”

— William Carlos Williams

“We all have handicaps. The difference is that some of us must reveal ours, while others must conceal theirs, to be treated with mercy.”

— Yahia Lababidi, writer (b. 1973)

OK, everyone else has weighed in, I guess I’d better, too. I do not like the politics so much, it makes me a little “headachey.” I alternate between hope and headache, as far as politics goes.

Then I’m cleaning the bathroom and there, staring up at me, is the Oct. ’07 Atlantic, with Bill Clinton’s shiny face on it. To the lower left of his ear there is an article promo’ed: “How To Be A Moral Investor.” And I’m thinking, that’s kinda funny. Cuz as we know, the man has the morals of an alley cat. So if he could learn how to invest in some morals I think that would be just dandy.

Everyone says no one died/when Bill lied but we know that’s bullshit. He was known to randomly, erratically, carelessly drop bombs on countries and kill who he could. And then there was the whole welfare-to-work thing, that killed people literally and spiritually.

Up top, the headline says: “Let’s Make A Deal: Bill Clinton Reinvents Charity — And Himself.” And I’m thinking, ha ha ha whoooo am I endorsing?

I do not know Mr. Obama, you know, personally. But he seems like an alright man.

Hillary? I did not appreciate it when she talked smack about my girl Tammy Wynette and was all, “I’m not one of those little stand by your man girls” and then… proceeded to be the worst kind of little “stand by your man” girls. Whereas Tammy Wynette, as far as I’m concerned, is country feminist hero.

And then there were the blowjobs. If you have a woman (or if you have a man) you give up your “random blowjobs from others” privilege. Now, if you partner, to quote the Allman Brothers (because… why not?) is off with one of your “good time buddies/they’re drinking in some cross-town bar” then, by all means, go grab a blowjob.

Really, life is too short for shenanigans like that.

Otherwise, do not pull some little tricks, then go on national television, all, “That woman,” “I did not sleep with that woman,” etc. And if you’re “and his wife,” and you get (or choose to be) set-up, then afterwards you had better say, “I had no idea and what the hell, the man is a dog and I am sorry I called you a slut — he’s the slut, you were just young and stoopid, so wise up, sister” or something. Just anything. But no, you are not allowed to say, “I’m staying with the creep and vote for me!”

Because that just confuses me.

I do not care for Hillary because she is anti-sister. (See above: bombs, no welfare checks, too many erratic blowjobs, the whole “that woman” thing.)

So Obama gets my vote because of… blowjobs. And bombs.

Ta-ta. Remember, vote early and vote often.

wm

15. Sassy Gardener

14. PostSecret

13. Not A Soccer Mom

12. Because Dammit I Must Blog

11. Overheard in PDX

10. Dolce Bellezza

9. Ask Moxie

8. Exceedingly Mundane

7. Oral Hygiene Queen

6. Breed ’em and Weep

5. Here in Idaho

4. mimi smartypants

3. Witt and Wisdom

2. Elizabeth’s Vegetarian Kitchen

1. Midwestern Mommy

Your favorites??? Leave ’em in comments.

love,

wm

My husband started a new blog. Cuz he can.

quote of the day:

“Clear eyes full hearts can’t lose!”

Have you seen this site? It’s a direct way for teachers to get cash donated for specific projects — in this case, copies of “The Stranger,” by Camus, for a class of high school seniors. (Another plug for my family’s neighborhood high school.)

If you have a little to spare, please do. And please pass the website address along to any educators you may know who need a bit of extra help.

ps — it’s still raining here. Happy Thursday.

pss — edited later to say: the kids are getting their books! The project has been fully funded. In one day. Cool. Thank you to all who helped.

Dear Thursday 13ers and Usual Suspects,

Here is a weather update from Portland, Oregon, where it rains most of the time. People somehow cannot deal, in spite of the fact that it always rains. Well, except for (sometimes) part of July, (usually) most of August and (often) into September. And (once in awhile) we get October. The first two weeks in October, at least. Then back to Your Rain Channel.

New Yorkers: “It rains just as much in New York, inch-wise. It’s just all at once.”
me: “I do not think so.”

The weather! It is baffling!

This, in spite of the fact that Oregon, She is Constant. She is Constantly Raining. Except in the desert, where it is drought, and the people, they are all, “Again with the drought? Why does God hate us? We could use some of your Portland rain.” Etc.

Portlanders, they start to think, starting around now (end of January) maybe the rain will let up? Maybe? So our conversations go like this…

1. You think it’s going to keep raining?

2. Wow, it’s raining really hard!

3. It’s not raining that bad.

4. Did the weathermen say snow? Do you think it will really snow? I mean, a lot?

5. Do you think they’ll close the schools?

6. Do you think we’ll get a snow day?

7. Do you think it will be freezing rain, instead of snow?

8. I hate the freezing rain, don’t you? It’s so scary! How the roads get all icy? It’s hard to drive in.

9. It’d be nice to get some sun.

10. Maybe over spring break?

11. Geez, people here really don’t know how to drive in the weather.

12. I mean, I can handle it. But other people really do not know how to drive in the weather.

13. It didn’t rain that much today.

Go read Nan’s story about her doggie, Towser. You might cry a little, but it’s so worth it. Someone else misses her black Lab, too.

Peace Frog
the Doors

“There’s blood in the streets, it’s up to my ankles
She came
There’s blood on the streets, it’s up to my knee
She came
Blood on the streets in the town of Chicago
She came
Blood on the rise, it’s following me
Think about the break of day
She came and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
She came
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
She came
Blood in the streets it’s up to my thigh
She came
Yeah the river runs down the legs of the city
She came
The women are crying red rivers of weepin’
She came into town and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
Indians scattered on dawns highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind
Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of phantastic l.a.
Blood streams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
There’s blood in the streets, it’s up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, it’s up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it’s following me”