Today, the 1 million plus people who signed the recall petition were outed to the public at large. I've been in this food coma since that number was announced, actually. I did not expect 1,000,000 people to sign that petition. The news of that total came at a bad time, so I have yet to really appreciate the enormity of it, but it's sinking in. It's hard to get people to sign a petition, even for something so white hot as this. Even here in Madison, the number of people who don't want to be involved, or don't follow politics (like it's a sports team) is much higher than you would expect. At least when you're involved in the mess you expect everyone to know what is going on, especially since it is all happening right in their backyard, but even right now, after all this hot mess, I bet I could find someone who could more readily tell me backup running back to the Badgers rather than their state senator. Still, even then, 1 out of 4 eligible Wisconsin voters signed that petition. That's pretty damn good. Now, if only they all gave money, too, like 100 bucks, then that would be pretty damn sweet.
But now, we wait. We're kind of locked into this holding pattern where I don't know what to do. I'm still pretty jazzed about this whole thing. I look forward to the campaign, the election and the steps after that because there absolutely will be steps after that. This isn't a mobilization that can end because that's how we all got into the predicament, from Occupy on down. If the Occupiers, we in Madison, and everywhere stayed consistently engaged, kept showing up everyday and just out hustling corporate interests, then we would be in better position. Politicians only listen to the people in the room, and we, by and large, abdicated the room, and we can't do that ever again.
I don't know what to do with myself for the next 60 plus days while the signatures get reviewed and then it all this gets tied up in legal challenges and this and that and the other thing. I probably should get back to my writing schedule. That would be ideal. I sort of fell off the wagon the past few weeks, but tomorrow, I swear, I'll be better and get back on track. Maybe I'll blog more. That would be nice. Perhaps plan a vacation. Do my taxes. Worry more about my weight. Wait for the harassment to start since my name and address are now out there to publicly recall the governor (I'm imaging a scene from The Jerk where that guy just pick's Navin's out of the phone book.) Try to enjoy a normal life, or what's left of my normal life before modern fascism came and shit on my good time. So, I'll just have to content myself into my computer to suck out whatever news shakes free, particularly if it is news I agree with. What's the point of the internet unless I can cocoon myself with only things that validate my beliefs?
Here's to a quiet spring and finding a new, temporary normal.
viva wisco
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Exception to the Rulers: Reflection
There's nothing quite like reading an out-dated political book. First, it's interesting because of how little stuff changes. Corporations still buying politicians. Money corrupts far beyond power. Republicans do dastardly things, but it's not like Democrats are innocent. It's the same damn song.
Exception to the Rulers by Amy Goodman did show me how much I knew, but did not realize. Like the depth of how the oil and war industries were interwoven with Bush II. Everybody knew it, but I had no idea there wa an oil tanker named for Condoleeza before she was in the Bush cabinet. Things like that that reveal felt truths were all over this book. And it make it interesting.
And there was so much that pretty much amounts to hidden history. I had no idea about the troubles of East Timor, the massive anti-war protests during the Iraq invasion, and quite a lot of other stuff that was going on out there in the world completely unknown to me. And I assumed I was a pretty connected guy. I always tried to watch the news - not to the junkie level I'm living now, but still I wasn't a rube - but there was so much I didnt know and didn't realize that made me better understand the complaints of "corporate news media" and led me to understand even less the "liberal" media claims because you wouldn't think the typical person hurling "liberal media" around like that means that the media is corporate/big business lap dogs, eschewing complicated stories that could make a difference in people's lives for fluff & sound bites. But that's not what struck me as the most interesting.
And there was so much that pretty much amounts to hidden history. I had no idea about the troubles of East Timor, the massive anti-war protests during the Iraq invasion, and quite a lot of other stuff that was going on out there in the world completely unknown to me. And I assumed I was a pretty connected guy. I always tried to watch the news - not to the junkie level I'm living now, but still I wasn't a rube - but there was so much I didnt know and didn't realize that made me better understand the complaints of "corporate news media" and led me to understand even less the "liberal" media claims because you wouldn't think the typical person hurling "liberal media" around like that means that the media is corporate/big business lap dogs, eschewing complicated stories that could make a difference in people's lives for fluff & sound bites. But that's not what struck me as the most interesting.
What struck me was our collective forgetting and not knowing. All this hidden history stuff, few people remember that. The anti-war rallies against Iraq, if they were so huge, why is all the political Occupy business being treated like this is some new wave of protests. Protests have always been here. Shit, we're probably bordering on desensitizing to protests, so it's not like we just now figured out how to put words on poster board. But it's like we've forgotten and this somehow feels so fresh. And we get involved in these protest movements thinking there is some permanent part of it, like maybe the difference will be lasting, and it will be lasting beyond our immediate social groups. But this book, if anything, showed me that, no, that's not the case because the song hasn't change. We still forget. Those in charge, those who ultimately control what the masses who do not actively seek out alternative news see, you know passive consumers of news, well, they shape the memories. They shape what actually has impact. They shape history. And that's so frustrating.
It just makes me wonder, too, about the Occupy chatter about income disparity. It's too big to be forgotten into history, though the Wisconsin protests certainly got swallowed up by them as far as the mass media/history makers are concerned. And, still, this bit about the song of income disparity, corporate greed, money influence in politics, it did not start being a problem with Bush II, or Citizen's United, but it's always been a problem. My god, in reading The Boys on the Bus, it touches a little on McGovern and his view of all this "corporations" boogeymen ideas, and that was 1972. 1972! And I routinely see quotes that from presidents like FDR and others about the dangers of corporations. Bob LaFollette, in the 1910s was all about the dangers of corporations and their influence. 1910s! I bet there's a quote from the Founders as well about the matter as well. And here we are acting like we discovered this great and powerful thing called gravity when it turns out it's been here all along and we knew about this whole damn time. So when, by god, will it be fixed?
It just makes me wonder, too, about the Occupy chatter about income disparity. It's too big to be forgotten into history, though the Wisconsin protests certainly got swallowed up by them as far as the mass media/history makers are concerned. And, still, this bit about the song of income disparity, corporate greed, money influence in politics, it did not start being a problem with Bush II, or Citizen's United, but it's always been a problem. My god, in reading The Boys on the Bus, it touches a little on McGovern and his view of all this "corporations" boogeymen ideas, and that was 1972. 1972! And I routinely see quotes that from presidents like FDR and others about the dangers of corporations. Bob LaFollette, in the 1910s was all about the dangers of corporations and their influence. 1910s! I bet there's a quote from the Founders as well about the matter as well. And here we are acting like we discovered this great and powerful thing called gravity when it turns out it's been here all along and we knew about this whole damn time. So when, by god, will it be fixed?
So that makes me wonder where the Madison protests and the Occupy movement falls in this whole continuum. Is this just a particularly rousing verse of the same song? And how much longer do we need to sing because, dammit, I just got in on this choir and my throat is already sore. How about we wrap this bitch up and try some other tune for a while.
viva wisco
viva wisco
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Loss and Normalcy
My father-in-law, Virgil, passed away on January 14, 2012. He was 82, in declining health both physical and mental, but the death was still sudden. I did not know him well. By the time I met him he was already in his early 70s and kind of doddering. I would sit next to him and he would ramble on and on about everything. The conversation would be a bit like reading The Prophet from Jupiter by Tony Early or Catch-22 where every sentence could dovetail to a different idea to another to another. So I just had to keep up with him. I believe he wasn’t the same person that people who loved him knew him to be and adjusted to the person he became over time. For me, he was a guy who liked to talk and I liked to try to talk with him. I do wish I knew him better, but sometimes just having someone nice to talk to is good enough.
My wife, of course, knew him much better. He was 50 when she was born, so I suppose you could make the argument that even she did not know him as the same man that her mother and older siblings knew. She repeatedly tells me how I’m kind of like her dad, which she means as a compliment. Like how I rarely meet a stranger, a generally nice guy that most other people tend to like. You know, your quintessential “good guy.” I even wear a white hat from time to time.
So, with this in mind, this past Saturday, I collapsed. I blacked out in our bathroom. Struck my head on the bathroom door and cut my head. A cut that required 5 staples and some deep stitches to close.
Emily was in bed when this happened. She had woken me up from falling asleep on the couch at around 2am in order to get me to come to bed. She was probably half-asleep waiting for me in bed while I finished with the nightly bathroom routine. Then she heard the sound of me collapsing into the door, breaking the wood molding pieces on the door. I had hit the door hard enough on the inside that I jammed a piece of wood essentially through the door, which blasted off a piece of molding on the outside. I believe it was on that piece of wood that I jammed through on which I cut myself. It was sticking up through the door like a spike when I got home, so could have easily impaled myself deeper onto it. I presume I hit the door, got stabbed by the door and I rolled off it, which caused the deep cut. I am damn lucky.
She rushed out to me, helped me up and got me to the hospital after an initial surge of panic. Three hours in the emergency, a CT scan, an EKG and those Frankenstein-like staples in my head, and we got to go home.
What I’ve failed to really appreciate is what Emily must have felt like right then. She had just lost her dad the week before. We spent all week trying to get his affairs in order, and get her mother in order as well all the while managing Emily’s sorrow.
And here I am. The guy that she married because I reminded her of him. Blacked out on the bathroom floor with a three-inch gash in the back of my head after blacking out for some mysterious reason. (Doctors proclaimed it was a combination of dehydration and blood pressure wonkiness.) However, in that moment, she had lost her dad, and then here's me, the love of her life, prone on the ground, collapsed and bleeding. The thoughts she must have had.
I'm okay now. It's days later and I'm here, but Virgil is still gone. Today is like any other day, except Virgil is still gone, and the potential for me being gone is very real as well. The way I hit the door, the way I cut my head, it could have been a lot worse, especially if I think about it more. And Emily has to live with all of that. And I can't feel more terrible for her causing more anguish by passing out, and I feel completely culpable for what happened to me. I just hope I can help her from here, and definitely hope to not fall out like that again.
I know this should lead me to this life is a gift, we must enjoy it point, but that's not really where I am. I'm still struggling with where I am after all this. I tried to fall back right into the old routine. Shit, I'm painting the bathroom right now. Nothing like an overdue domestic project to get life firmly back in its slot. But that's what we do, right? When crisis befalls, we try desperately to routine to normalcy. Normalcy, or searching for that comforting routine, is what helps us heal, right? But then what's left after that? Normalcy makes no place to acknowledge problems. It's not normal to pass out, hit your head, and receive staples. It's not normal to lose your father.
Really, what I'm getting at, is that this past week was terrible. Just terrible. And returning to normalcy is what needs to be done. It's what is always done. But that still doesn't seem right. The difference between the grief and worry is too vast for the return to normalcy to be enough. You can't wallow in grief and worry, you can't keep repeating those horrible images over and over in your head or it would drive you insane, part of healing is letting go, but man. Even acknowledging the worries and grief doesn't seem like enough. No matter what the choice, neither feels adequate or correct. But, what else can be done? Nothing, I suppose, but get back to normal.
viva healing.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Pound to Four Pounds of Flesh
I might have lost a pound. Or, I might have gained 4 pounds. If it's the latter then I guess I'll have to resort to eating only fingernails and doing 1,000 situps a night to lose the weight because I was decently behaved food wise. I had a few breakdowns, mostly over the weekend, but I'm still trending better than before. Anyway, it's hard to say if I've gained four or lost one because my scale only works if you place it in the absolute perfect spot on the bathroom floor while having the shower running. I have yet to understand why the shower being on is key to the scale working, perhaps the scale works best is a moist environment or the steam loosens some bound widgets inside it or it prefers the white noise sound of a shower.
Yesterday, I did not find this depression-inducing g-spot (D-spot?) on the floor, which means that the scale gives me an ambient 5 pounds. I hopped onboard because I got tired of fucking with the scale and we only have so much weak hot water (I don't even bother turning on the cold water) and it spit out a reading of 240 pounds.
Oh, I felt terrible about myself. I feel terrible right now, about past deeds, about the four holiday cookies I ate today, the extra piece of asiago bread I had with my chili dinner and all the other past meal failures I've done to myself. I'm pissed for every cheese curd eaten, beer drank, larger size ordered and excuse made to make my irresponsible behavior okay. (Celebrate! It's Wednesday! Let's have a pound of fucking potatoes and watch TV!) Not much I can do about it. I mean, that all the best ways to kill yourself have already been taken by poets and rock stars so this is a life I shall have to fight it out with until the bitter, hungry, weight appropriate end.
Anyway, I take solace in that there is a chance that the scale is off by five pounds. It sure does seem like it should give me +5, meaning I'm really -1 a week into the effort to lose 36.6 pounds. However, what if the scale corrects itself at higher weights? Scales sometimes are more accurate with higher weights than low weights, so maybe this is that and I've gained five pounds. Five horrible, taunting pounds because it's not muscle pounds. It's not like I can shuffle cards with my pecs (yet...I did just figure out how to use the pec machine appropriately today).
But rather than drive myself insane with self-loathing, or, more accurately, I'm taking a time out from driving myself insane with self-loathing (hey, if there's not something I can feel bad about myself about, then I ain't happy) and I'm willing to accept the minus one pound. Not that I do accept it. Oh, shit no, but I am willing to accept it (how's that for political equivocation, eh?).
So, here's to winning the first week, sort of, but not really, but it's better than losing outright even if this is losing outright. In other words, for right now, I prefer the mystery (though I will continue being unhappy with myself for good measure).
viva wisco
Yesterday, I did not find this depression-inducing g-spot (D-spot?) on the floor, which means that the scale gives me an ambient 5 pounds. I hopped onboard because I got tired of fucking with the scale and we only have so much weak hot water (I don't even bother turning on the cold water) and it spit out a reading of 240 pounds.
Oh, I felt terrible about myself. I feel terrible right now, about past deeds, about the four holiday cookies I ate today, the extra piece of asiago bread I had with my chili dinner and all the other past meal failures I've done to myself. I'm pissed for every cheese curd eaten, beer drank, larger size ordered and excuse made to make my irresponsible behavior okay. (Celebrate! It's Wednesday! Let's have a pound of fucking potatoes and watch TV!) Not much I can do about it. I mean, that all the best ways to kill yourself have already been taken by poets and rock stars so this is a life I shall have to fight it out with until the bitter, hungry, weight appropriate end.
Anyway, I take solace in that there is a chance that the scale is off by five pounds. It sure does seem like it should give me +5, meaning I'm really -1 a week into the effort to lose 36.6 pounds. However, what if the scale corrects itself at higher weights? Scales sometimes are more accurate with higher weights than low weights, so maybe this is that and I've gained five pounds. Five horrible, taunting pounds because it's not muscle pounds. It's not like I can shuffle cards with my pecs (yet...I did just figure out how to use the pec machine appropriately today).
But rather than drive myself insane with self-loathing, or, more accurately, I'm taking a time out from driving myself insane with self-loathing (hey, if there's not something I can feel bad about myself about, then I ain't happy) and I'm willing to accept the minus one pound. Not that I do accept it. Oh, shit no, but I am willing to accept it (how's that for political equivocation, eh?).
So, here's to winning the first week, sort of, but not really, but it's better than losing outright even if this is losing outright. In other words, for right now, I prefer the mystery (though I will continue being unhappy with myself for good measure).
viva wisco
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Recall or Revolution
This is another thought that cropped up for me when I read that article about Walker feeling the unions what him dead. Here, in Wisconsin, this isn't a revolution. No, it isn't.
This is a movement done within the confines of existing law, and using methods legally allowed to achieve the end game. It feels good to fight back, and surely we need to, but this has not, and is not, the toppling of a regime in the overthrow a dictator sense. We're not breaking any laws to force his removal from power.
If this were an honest to God revolution, like Egypt, Tunisia, Syria, Libya, Bahrain and other points where the Arab Spring kicked off protests, then, yeah, I could see Walker - were he an actual tyrant - being legitimately worried about his well being.
However, the protests were a bunch of angry people with signs who walked around the capitol for a few laps, bought a pasty, and went home to the internet (or maybe slept inside the building). Honestly, this was not a dangerous situation and it remains a safe situation (unkind flare ups like people getting spit on happen or a beer dumped on them but those are far cries from being fucking shot).
Also, Walker isn't a tyrant. He was elected by a slim margin (in fact, only 25% of the state voted for the guy...50% turnout and he got 52% of the vote, so, viola, about 25% said they liked him, meaning 75% did not vote for this guy, however, this is the election system we have), but he was elected. And if he loses the recall election, I imagine he will step down peacefully.
This situation is pretty extreme by modern American standards, verily, but we're not to the overthrow-the-government stage of things. We're not in the chucking firebombs and out running bullets stage. This is people democratically exercising their rights.
We're all pretty much playing by the rules save for a few asshole outliers who are doing stupid things, not dangerous murder-inspiring things. Claiming to be worried about his life right now is flat out ridiculous.
This is a movement done within the confines of existing law, and using methods legally allowed to achieve the end game. It feels good to fight back, and surely we need to, but this has not, and is not, the toppling of a regime in the overthrow a dictator sense. We're not breaking any laws to force his removal from power.
If this were an honest to God revolution, like Egypt, Tunisia, Syria, Libya, Bahrain and other points where the Arab Spring kicked off protests, then, yeah, I could see Walker - were he an actual tyrant - being legitimately worried about his well being.
However, the protests were a bunch of angry people with signs who walked around the capitol for a few laps, bought a pasty, and went home to the internet (or maybe slept inside the building). Honestly, this was not a dangerous situation and it remains a safe situation (unkind flare ups like people getting spit on happen or a beer dumped on them but those are far cries from being fucking shot).
Also, Walker isn't a tyrant. He was elected by a slim margin (in fact, only 25% of the state voted for the guy...50% turnout and he got 52% of the vote, so, viola, about 25% said they liked him, meaning 75% did not vote for this guy, however, this is the election system we have), but he was elected. And if he loses the recall election, I imagine he will step down peacefully.
This situation is pretty extreme by modern American standards, verily, but we're not to the overthrow-the-government stage of things. We're not in the chucking firebombs and out running bullets stage. This is people democratically exercising their rights.
We're all pretty much playing by the rules save for a few asshole outliers who are doing stupid things, not dangerous murder-inspiring things. Claiming to be worried about his life right now is flat out ridiculous.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Shocking! Victim! Shocking!
So, Scott Walker thinks unions want him dead. He doesn't mean politically dead, but buried next to Jimmy Hoffa dead. (I make that reference because modern anti-union sentiment is chained directly to his exploits...never mind he's been dead for 36 years, but I digress.) I was shocked. Shocked, I say, at such a statement. Dead? Really? How can someone say such a thing? Dead? That's what it takes to play the victim these days? Face it, right wingers love to play the victim, hence all the bullshit "liberal media" nonsense*, the war on Christmas nonsense, and all the other ways they create imaginary attacks to vociferously defend themselves against it and decry their own poor pitiful state...
Oh, God, why do I fall for these things. Every time. Ring a bell; salivate.
I feel foolish getting worked up over the death threat stuff for any number of reasons. First, he's definitely alluding to the death threats he and other Republicans received during the height of the protests here in Madison. It caused a lot of fervor for the red team to rally around him (nothing like feeling like you have to protect something to bring out the wallets & claws after all). But, see, the Democrats received them, too. Teachers received them. Shit, a local DJ who was vocal at the protests received one. Death threats, sadly, are common for public figures. I have no proof, but I'm willing to bet that damn near every elected official has received a death threat, or some other veiled threat against their person that could be interpreted as a death threat. I bet a great number of public figures receive threats. Shit, I bet Julia Roberts had a death threat from somebody. And she's America's Sweetheart for Pete's sake.
Anyway, these things are frightening and they're common. Like spiders. They're a reliable source of scare tactic material (like spiders). They are rightfully troubling, but my god, move on. It's a spider. You've seen that before. Be a man and squish it.
Secondly, I shouldn't be upset that this makes him appear cowardly, paranoid and weird. What's he worried about, exactly? A naked and greasy Richard Trumka leaping out from his closet and squish him with a mallet? But Walker does look like a coward here. That's what I want, right? Some sniveling thing that doesn't stand a chance to be elected? Well, yeah, I like that un-elected part, but it really bugs me that this ploy works. Just the idea that him saying this fired up enough people to send him a 10 dollar check to help protect him or some shit truly pisses me off. It's sad to me that there exists buffoons like that and it makes me sad that there are people who work directly for him that know to suggest such a tactic.
Thirdly, how much more divisive can you get. This sets up this recall election as not a question of democracy, or rights or anything, but as honest-to-god life and death. Recalling Walker comes out of a desire to kill, apparently, so recalling him is the equivalent of murder? What? Why would you ever do that? As if it's not bad enough around here with the division between sides, with damn near everybody radicalized to the left and right you frame this situation as life and death, making people want to fight harder to defend their dear leader**. And not fight as in going out making phone calls or knocking on doors, but maybe more underhanded things, more vicious things. That's not what we need. That's not moving the state forward.
Lastly, it continues this line of rhetoric from the right that aggravates me. Ultimately, I want to understand their point of view. It's not mine, but I'm not so cocky as to think that I'm absolutely right, so I want to understand their thinking. But every time I encounter a right wing defense of Walker, it never fails to come off as demeaning or belittling to my side of the argument. Liberals this, or Democrats that. For fuck's sake, man, just present your points without being a dick, or shouting, or being a shouting dick, then I'd at least listen, but I can't sit through the hate because it makes me feel foolish for listening. Like, for example, the latest fashion in Walker defense is to call collective bargaining isn't a right, but it's an "expensive entitlement."^ What exactly does he mean? I have no idea. But "entitlement" is a buzzword people don't like, and nobody likes "expensive" unless someone is giving you something expensive for no additional cost. So, to further explain this line of thought, he worries about unions killing him, or goes off about "union bosses from DC". Right. The line of logic appears to be, "I don't like this. You shouldn't like it. They're pricks and they like it. Therefore, I'm right." No explanation, no definition. My relative prickness has nothing at all with your rightness. Just convince you're right on your own merit, how about that? Is there an argument there that can be presented without bashing what I believe in, or is it integral to your point? I must be diminished so not that you're right, but that you appear less wrong than me. It's gotten to the point where I have a very hard time listening anymore because of it, and that depresses the hell out of me, too. I want to know what they think and understand, but I wind up blanketing myself in my version of the news and the events because, man, at least I'm not being assaulted or made to feel foolish when reading them, though it solidifies my radicalization. And that's a damn shame.^^
And all of that is what he wants, so here I am, salivating over the death threat in precisely the way my side should be as prescribed, and his side is all worked up, carving Bible verses into their concealed weapons, everybody more ready for battle than understanding.
Recall Walker, Recall Kleefisch, Viva Wisco.
Footnotes:
*Liberal media?, quick, right now, go to your television and find me a "liberal" viewpoint...quick!...bonus points if you can do this on a Sunday morning and no points if you have Current TV. I'll wait. No, Comedy Central does not count. And MSNBC only kind of counts, and especially isn't when Scarborough is on (and they are GE after all, so they're liberal in that we'll never talk too much about the evils of fracking kind of way) Anyway, got one yet? Now, hurry, find the right wing opinion. Much easier wasn't it. To whine about this bias, still, is just so damn silly. I mean, today on the actual and admittedly liberal radio station here in Madison - the tenth circle of liberalism mind you - there was a pro-Scott Walker radio ad. Tell me again about this overt liberal media?
**I mean this honestly. There is an autocratic/dictatorial streak in these "small government" people that worries me.
^You know what else is an expensive entitlement? Voting. It's something we all expect to have and it costs a lot to do. So maybe we should get right of that, too? In fact, aren't all rights expensive entitlements? Right to free speech, assembly, bear arms, all of them result in great expenses and we are entitled to them. I get the feeling that whenever this "collective bargaining" isn't a right thing comes along it's only said by people who don't understand where rights come from.
^^I am fully aware of my name calling and how it plays directly into my complaint about the rhetoric, but considering I'm selling no initiatives, advancing no causes, or really trying to convince anyone of anything with this post, I feel okay about doing it.
Oh, God, why do I fall for these things. Every time. Ring a bell; salivate.
I feel foolish getting worked up over the death threat stuff for any number of reasons. First, he's definitely alluding to the death threats he and other Republicans received during the height of the protests here in Madison. It caused a lot of fervor for the red team to rally around him (nothing like feeling like you have to protect something to bring out the wallets & claws after all). But, see, the Democrats received them, too. Teachers received them. Shit, a local DJ who was vocal at the protests received one. Death threats, sadly, are common for public figures. I have no proof, but I'm willing to bet that damn near every elected official has received a death threat, or some other veiled threat against their person that could be interpreted as a death threat. I bet a great number of public figures receive threats. Shit, I bet Julia Roberts had a death threat from somebody. And she's America's Sweetheart for Pete's sake.
Anyway, these things are frightening and they're common. Like spiders. They're a reliable source of scare tactic material (like spiders). They are rightfully troubling, but my god, move on. It's a spider. You've seen that before. Be a man and squish it.
Secondly, I shouldn't be upset that this makes him appear cowardly, paranoid and weird. What's he worried about, exactly? A naked and greasy Richard Trumka leaping out from his closet and squish him with a mallet? But Walker does look like a coward here. That's what I want, right? Some sniveling thing that doesn't stand a chance to be elected? Well, yeah, I like that un-elected part, but it really bugs me that this ploy works. Just the idea that him saying this fired up enough people to send him a 10 dollar check to help protect him or some shit truly pisses me off. It's sad to me that there exists buffoons like that and it makes me sad that there are people who work directly for him that know to suggest such a tactic.
Thirdly, how much more divisive can you get. This sets up this recall election as not a question of democracy, or rights or anything, but as honest-to-god life and death. Recalling Walker comes out of a desire to kill, apparently, so recalling him is the equivalent of murder? What? Why would you ever do that? As if it's not bad enough around here with the division between sides, with damn near everybody radicalized to the left and right you frame this situation as life and death, making people want to fight harder to defend their dear leader**. And not fight as in going out making phone calls or knocking on doors, but maybe more underhanded things, more vicious things. That's not what we need. That's not moving the state forward.
Lastly, it continues this line of rhetoric from the right that aggravates me. Ultimately, I want to understand their point of view. It's not mine, but I'm not so cocky as to think that I'm absolutely right, so I want to understand their thinking. But every time I encounter a right wing defense of Walker, it never fails to come off as demeaning or belittling to my side of the argument. Liberals this, or Democrats that. For fuck's sake, man, just present your points without being a dick, or shouting, or being a shouting dick, then I'd at least listen, but I can't sit through the hate because it makes me feel foolish for listening. Like, for example, the latest fashion in Walker defense is to call collective bargaining isn't a right, but it's an "expensive entitlement."^ What exactly does he mean? I have no idea. But "entitlement" is a buzzword people don't like, and nobody likes "expensive" unless someone is giving you something expensive for no additional cost. So, to further explain this line of thought, he worries about unions killing him, or goes off about "union bosses from DC". Right. The line of logic appears to be, "I don't like this. You shouldn't like it. They're pricks and they like it. Therefore, I'm right." No explanation, no definition. My relative prickness has nothing at all with your rightness. Just convince you're right on your own merit, how about that? Is there an argument there that can be presented without bashing what I believe in, or is it integral to your point? I must be diminished so not that you're right, but that you appear less wrong than me. It's gotten to the point where I have a very hard time listening anymore because of it, and that depresses the hell out of me, too. I want to know what they think and understand, but I wind up blanketing myself in my version of the news and the events because, man, at least I'm not being assaulted or made to feel foolish when reading them, though it solidifies my radicalization. And that's a damn shame.^^
And all of that is what he wants, so here I am, salivating over the death threat in precisely the way my side should be as prescribed, and his side is all worked up, carving Bible verses into their concealed weapons, everybody more ready for battle than understanding.
Recall Walker, Recall Kleefisch, Viva Wisco.
Footnotes:
*Liberal media?, quick, right now, go to your television and find me a "liberal" viewpoint...quick!...bonus points if you can do this on a Sunday morning and no points if you have Current TV. I'll wait. No, Comedy Central does not count. And MSNBC only kind of counts, and especially isn't when Scarborough is on (and they are GE after all, so they're liberal in that we'll never talk too much about the evils of fracking kind of way) Anyway, got one yet? Now, hurry, find the right wing opinion. Much easier wasn't it. To whine about this bias, still, is just so damn silly. I mean, today on the actual and admittedly liberal radio station here in Madison - the tenth circle of liberalism mind you - there was a pro-Scott Walker radio ad. Tell me again about this overt liberal media?
**I mean this honestly. There is an autocratic/dictatorial streak in these "small government" people that worries me.
^You know what else is an expensive entitlement? Voting. It's something we all expect to have and it costs a lot to do. So maybe we should get right of that, too? In fact, aren't all rights expensive entitlements? Right to free speech, assembly, bear arms, all of them result in great expenses and we are entitled to them. I get the feeling that whenever this "collective bargaining" isn't a right thing comes along it's only said by people who don't understand where rights come from.
^^I am fully aware of my name calling and how it plays directly into my complaint about the rhetoric, but considering I'm selling no initiatives, advancing no causes, or really trying to convince anyone of anything with this post, I feel okay about doing it.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
236.6
236.6. Four numbers that are just killing me right now. Four numbers that have completely wiped out any confidence or joy I can find in myself. Four measly yet evil goddamn numbers. And really, it's just the last three. It's the 36.6 that's the real motherfucker.
36.6 is 23 pounds more than my lightest and proudest. It was around 213 pounds, which is still 13 pounds heavier than I wanted to be, when I relaxed. That was a huge mistake that's led me to this demoralizing 236.6 pounds.
This article from the NY Times Sunday magazine illustrates it perfectly that this thing, this weight loss thing, is never over. Weight loss, once it is engaged, becomes a never-ending fight because once you get fat your body becomes hard wired to keep it fat.
So right now, my body is trying to undermine years of work, so I must engage in battle and be ever-vigilant...and then continue to be ever-vigilant until I die. And that depresses me to no end. Makes you weary, would be a more descriptive feeling. Just knowing that forever that I can't relax with food due to my own warped relationship to it and my chemistry is kind of a bummer.
Yeah, it's kind of weird to feel depressed about the idea of realizing that I can't enjoy food in the manner in which I find enjoyable. It's a decidedly American problem, for sure. Food should be fuel, I get that, but, man, it's nice to just enjoy something and this is something I cannot enjoy since enjoyment of it leads me to this despair I'm at now. And I feel like an idiot for feeling bummed about that. But I also realize that food is fucking everywhere, and a big part of this household. For Christmas, I got my wife a pasta machine and a dough whisk for crying out loud. Food abounds.
Anyway, I know I shouldn't make promises, especially on this day of breaking promises, so I just need to say I hope I can get back on the weight loss wagon and lose these 23 pounds, and the final 13.6 to get to where I need to be and then never give up so that maybe I can feel good about myself and stay that way and not let four measly stupid numbers just decimate my self esteem to the point where I can't sleep.
Oh, while I'm diarying-out-loud, this weight loss thing is just one part of a concerted effort where I'm trying to do everything I feel I should be doing. Reading, writing and political involvement plus the weight loss, plus keeping up a healthy domestic/social life. I am not making 2012 easy on me, but if the weight loss taught me anything, easy is not what I need to be seeking.
viva wisco
36.6 is 23 pounds more than my lightest and proudest. It was around 213 pounds, which is still 13 pounds heavier than I wanted to be, when I relaxed. That was a huge mistake that's led me to this demoralizing 236.6 pounds.
This article from the NY Times Sunday magazine illustrates it perfectly that this thing, this weight loss thing, is never over. Weight loss, once it is engaged, becomes a never-ending fight because once you get fat your body becomes hard wired to keep it fat.
So right now, my body is trying to undermine years of work, so I must engage in battle and be ever-vigilant...and then continue to be ever-vigilant until I die. And that depresses me to no end. Makes you weary, would be a more descriptive feeling. Just knowing that forever that I can't relax with food due to my own warped relationship to it and my chemistry is kind of a bummer.
Yeah, it's kind of weird to feel depressed about the idea of realizing that I can't enjoy food in the manner in which I find enjoyable. It's a decidedly American problem, for sure. Food should be fuel, I get that, but, man, it's nice to just enjoy something and this is something I cannot enjoy since enjoyment of it leads me to this despair I'm at now. And I feel like an idiot for feeling bummed about that. But I also realize that food is fucking everywhere, and a big part of this household. For Christmas, I got my wife a pasta machine and a dough whisk for crying out loud. Food abounds.
Anyway, I know I shouldn't make promises, especially on this day of breaking promises, so I just need to say I hope I can get back on the weight loss wagon and lose these 23 pounds, and the final 13.6 to get to where I need to be and then never give up so that maybe I can feel good about myself and stay that way and not let four measly stupid numbers just decimate my self esteem to the point where I can't sleep.
Oh, while I'm diarying-out-loud, this weight loss thing is just one part of a concerted effort where I'm trying to do everything I feel I should be doing. Reading, writing and political involvement plus the weight loss, plus keeping up a healthy domestic/social life. I am not making 2012 easy on me, but if the weight loss taught me anything, easy is not what I need to be seeking.
viva wisco
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