A Breakup Letter to the Left

I’ve been having a very hard time this week trying to distinguish from amongst the milieu about which topic I should write. Not because there is nothing that has grabbed my attention or riled my furor, but because I am so spoiled for choice that its like being already stuffed with a four course meal while having a trey of sumptuous desserts waved before you. Yes, absolutely, but no, I would feel like a glutton. On top of that, this week has been so highly charged with negativity that the piece I was going to write began to feel like a too heavy addition to an already heaving pile of unhappy that has been foisted upon the media landscape. I had come up with a half clever concept about playing “Never Have I Ever” with Nancy Pelosi, but it was so simple to draft it didn’t even feel like sport. This has to be challenging lest I should revert to my 7 year old self and try to set the library reading camel on fire because it never seemed to be my turn. Or blow up my school, which I also pondered at 7, and tried at 12. But I digress. The point is that if I do not find it energizing or entertaining to write, I simply won’t, and this week because of the fog of partisan war, no one single topic has clearly risen to the level of drawing my writerly ire, or inspired my sarcastic sensibilities.

Further, to join the cacophony of voices in outrage would make me “one of,” which is something I have never aspired to be. And when I do begin to rant about those on the Left who seem to now be competing in an increasingly tight race for head crazy of the week, I feel that I am suddenly no better than they, meeting their insane, treason-like calls for coup or assassination with ad hominem attacks on things like the fact that nary a one of the celebrities calling for such even has a college degree, let alone a grasp of reality. And that’s how quickly the descent to their level can occur. Though I have reasoned that my growing allegiance to, and alignment with the right has been galvanized by the behavior of those on the left, it has not materially changed my own behavior or who I am, and I do not wish for it to do so now.

My ex-husband and I were legally separated in 2.5 days; it’s something of which we are very proud. No fighting, no fussing, prenup honored, buh-bye. So though a passionate person I am, I prefer not to drag emotions into situations which can or should be dominated or decided by facts or common sense. Further, though I never cared for Twain, I can still appreciate the wisdom in his words, “Never argue with a fool, onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.” In that same spirit, I am quite proud that the right has, almost universally, not lowered itself to the level of the Left or “argued with a fool,” though we have likewise struggled to raise them to our level or saved them from making fools of themselves. Yet the constant verbal quagmires of this week have filled me with some despair, and I have tried time and again to figure out what — if anything — will put an end to all of the senseless sniping, obstructionism, protests, crocodile tears (can we please coin the phrase Crocodile Chuck?), and calls for boycotts and coups.

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Size Doesn’t Always Matter

Women know when size matters. Though my 3 carats no more determined the health of my marriage than the size of a crowd will define the course of a presidency.

Fundamentalist Barbie

Or “The Regime has changed but the crazy remains the same.”

 

Something I wrote a number of years ago before Mahmoud Ahmadinejad – or MockMoodyMadJihad, as I called him – fell from power. Yet it seems relevant still today  – to me at least – because of the ongoing media obsession with PEOTUS Trump’s perceived coziness with Putin and Russia. Some of us studied, have degrees in, and read voraciously still today about Russian & Soviet Politics – past and present – and likewise generally stay apprised of world events on the whole.

I was gobsmacked and disgusted over the Iran deal that was done under the Obama administration; just yesterday morning, our Navy ships in the Straits of Hormuz were forced to fire warning shots on Iranian boats.  I will not go into the chapter and verse detailed criticism to which my entire family and close circle of friends have been repeatedly subjected, but suffice it to say that it has more gaps than the London Tube system. But converse to the daily scrutiny, which borders on hysteria, by most of the U.S. press regarding Trump/Putin, the mainstream media’s critical or objective commentary on the Iran deal is remarkable only in the absence of it. Yet that government is batcrap on a cracker crazy. And – most importantly of all – hugely influenced by Russia.

So this begs the question – again, to me at least – of why it’s so wrong to have a cordial, if not cooperative, relationship with Russia, as they are the head of this proverbial snake; a snake which also is comprised largely of the clusterfuck that is Syria.

In the case of many of the kerfuffles which exist in the most problematic parts of this world in which we live, Russia is at the seat at the top of the table of dysfunction. So why not pull up a chair. How much worse can it get.

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Fundamentalist Barbie – 2008

Several weeks ago I was watching CNN and the crawl across the bottom of the screen said “Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran says that Barbie is a severe threat to national security.”

Well, duh. Does he think this is some sort of revelation (not a biblical reference, Mr. Mockmoodymadjihad)? Seriously. I want to know one little girl who was ever made to feel SECURE by Barbie. Her make-up is always perfect, even after sleeping 12 hours or 12 weeks, being thrown in the dirt, flushed down the toilet or carried off in the mouth of a dog. Her hair always shines without any apparent use of conditioner or treatment. Her stomach is so flat it is concave. Her boobs so spherical and upright that even surface-to-air missiles are envious of them. And, of course, she has the Dream House, pink Corvette, and (sexually questionable) Ken. She is clearly the plastic embodiment of every unachievable goal that women my age now set for themselves. Indeed, it may even be the very reason that so many women my age now inject and look like plastic – they are only trying to emulate their heroine. But somehow Mr. Mockmoodymadjihad thinks that it’s only his country whose security is threatened by her increasing omnipresence, and members of his cabinet have even gone so far as to suggest that this is some sort of covert effort by the Western World to smuggle our ideals into their otherwise Ziploc tight Islamic regime.

Indeed at full rant it seems as though they are setting the stage to argue that there is a serious underground movement that operates in and profits from…..doll trafficking.

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Check Your Ho Before You Go

Have you ever heard of Common Sense? It was written by one of the American founding fathers named Thomas Paine and first published anonymously during the American Revolution in 1776. Not because he was afraid of the USE of Common Sense – as we seem to be today – but because of the political sensitivity of the article’s contents. And what the inside of that man’s grave must look like today. Imagine a turbo-charged weenie roaster trapped inside a bunny hutch – the man is spinning in disgust and disbelief at what has become of his nation and of society at large.

Now for those of you expecting me to launch into a tirade about the recent elections, or who are expecting me to wax poetic about matters of philosophy and intellect, I am sorry to disappoint.

Invariably there are at least 100 different paths down which I could travel in my attempt to prove the complete demise of common sense in our society. But as I have already had a couple of cocktails, I am thusly inclined to take the path of least resistance; to go for the low-hanging fruit. Yes, I’m talking about airports.

For whatever reason, I am considered by the TSA and by extension the wonderfully omnipotent government of the USA to be an SSSS. A quadruple small? Clearly these people no not from whence they speak as I am a 36-D with a booty Beyonce couldn’t touch. Human intelligence my fanny. If they can’t see that then it’s no wonder that the world is in such a state. But I’m told that in fact this is not a reference to my non-existent impossibly petite stature, but to the fact that I am a perpetual “selectee.” Despite the fact that I have flown more than two million miles with one airline alliance without a single incident (unless, of course, you count the way I lob peanuts of people who snore after too many martinis halfway through a 13 hour flight), I am still somehow deemed one of the single greatest threats to national security since Bill and Hillary Clinton consummated their marriage and he thus decided he preferred women instead.

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