The night before the election, thunder rolled ominously through town. It seemed like it might be a premonition of what was to come, but I was hoping it was not. I had watched clips of Kamala’s rally, filled to the roof, loud and excited. Then, I had seen clips of Trump’s rallies. Nobody there. Trump droning on as people left. His behavior was deteriorating in a way that I felt people couldn’t help but notice. He insulted people and simulated a sex act on stage. How could anyone vote for him? The first time around, I might have given my fellow citizens a pass for supporting him because they didn’t know what I knew. But now they know. How could anyone with a shred of sanity want this person as the leader of our country?
Yet, 2016 was still fresh in my mind — the pain of hope failing us. I tried to put it out of my mind and hold on to the joy. The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice, right? The day would be filled with fear but also joy at turning the page on this ugly chapter in our country’s history. I felt like Harris was going to win, but I did worry I felt that way because I knew the stakes, and she had to win.
What We Lost
By 10 o’clock, the writing was on the wall. I spent the night contemplating the new reality. Steve Bannon, Stephen Miller, Elon Musk, Charlie Kirk, and JD Vance – these despicable, rotten-to-the-core racists will now have power over my life. These people hate strong, independent women. We are objects of scorn to them. According to them, my only purpose is to give birth and care for children, so I guess I will be disposable with them in charge.
Despite paying into Social Security my entire life, it will be gone when I need it. Under Trump’s plan, it will be insolvent in 6 years. And as he follows the 2025 playbook, Medicare will be gone, too. I will be facing old age with no social safety net in a country where half the voters don’t seem to have any empathy or compassion.
The sacrifices made in Ukraine will be for nothing, as Trump lets Putin do whatever he wants. Trump will also give Netanyahu free rein to use whatever force he wants, which will then lead to the utter destruction of the Middle East. The environment? Oh, it’s also toast. It was heading that way anyway, but now, with greedy oligarchs running things, we have no chance at all.
If I were Liz Cheney, Adam Kinzinger, or anyone else who has a spine and stood up to him, I might think about leaving the country before they start falling out of windows. Sadly, that’s the country we live in now.
Despair Today
The advice for Harris supporters was not to show any despair on social media. Why? Because Maga people love it. They love the pain they cause. They love the hurt and despair. Owning the libs – It’s what they live for. One thing I knew before the election was that no matter who won, the far-right wingers would be mad today. They’re mad if they win. They’re mad if they lose. They just love to be mad at liberals and stick it to them.
Well, screw them. They must live with their ugliness. I am going to let myself voice my despair today. I have to acknowledge that so much has been lost, not least of which is my respect for so many Americans who knew better this time and didn’t care. They will eventually come to feel the pain of their choice.
But Not Despair Forever
Thankfully, I won’t stay in that dark place. Recently, I read a life-changing book titled The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer. One lesson that stuck with me was that every problem is an opportunity to be present. As you learn to be more present and to be the observer, problems cease to be problems. I had been working on this with small things, and I’m not sure I was quite prepared for the final exam yet, but here we are. Being present, being kind, being decent, and fighting fascism whenever I can, will be how I survive and how I will keep the MFers from winning.
I was given a great gift – imagination. It carried me through some difficult times in my childhood, and has allowed me to have remarkable adventures in my mind.
For the past 4 1/2 years, I’ve been taking care of our business owner’s child. I’ve fed her, burped her, changed her diapers, and rocked her to sleep. As she grew, she hung onto my fingers as she walked and explored her surroundings. Those early mangled words and nonsense noises have coalesced into an incredible vocabulary. I’ve stood at the bottom of the slide, encouraging her to take the risk of sliding down, then watched her tell me to sit on the bench so she can play on her own. I’ve dragged her to daycare screaming and crying, then transitioned to seeing her roll her eyes with disappointment while playing with her friends, when she see’s I’m there to pick her up. And I’ve seen her early love of Frozen, Annie, and nursery rhymes turned into a full-blown Hamilton obsession. I may not be a mom, but I’ve gotten a slice of it, and how the love grows with each breath.
So when this school shooting happened in Robb Elementary, it took on a new dimension to me. My gift of imagination turned into a curse. I could see her in her classroom, eyes filled with fear from the sounds of gunshots. I could imagine her teacher, whose responsibility is to keep those kids safe, desperate to do anything to protect them while knowing there was little she could do. I could imagine the gunman coming in and destroying the precious lives of all those children I see every day when I pick her up. I could imagine the devastation I would feel if my little charge’s life was cut short. I could imagine how her parents would also be destroyed. With those imaginings, I gained a knowledge that I would do anything…. anything to keep that child safe and protect her from the horror those children at Robb Elementary experienced.
But what can I do? Every school shooting follows a familiar pattern. There are calls for changes to laws, mostly by Democrats. Republican then get mad at Democrats (not the shooter) and claim this isn’t the time and that Democrats are politicizing the events. But considering we have mass shootings every few days, when is there ever going to be a time that is acceptable to Republicans? And since politics is how we enact laws, how do you not politicize it? We need to work through the political system to enact change. And if Republicans don’t want to do that political work, I guess that means they’re fine with the status quo of children being slaughtered in their classrooms as long as they can keep their sacred weaponry.
Most of these politicians know very well that there are laws that can be enacted that fall within the constitutionality of the 2nd amendment and would provide some protection to Americans. Ninety percent of American are in favor of universal background checks, yet politicians beholden to the NRA block that measure.
We aren’t allowed to own RPG launchers. We aren’t allowed to own functioning tanks. We aren’t allowed to own nuclear weapons. And there’s absolutely no reason to allow average citizens to own high capacity, rapid firing rifles with armor piercing rounds. No reason. None. Would outlawing these weapons stop all mass shootings? Nope. But would it reduce them? Absolutely. History and statistics prove it.
Some would say we shouldn’t punish law abiding citizen and that criminals will always get guns somehow. Here’s the deal. This kid WAS a law abiding citizen when he bought his weapons… and then yesterday, he became a criminal by using them.
To the cowards who say there is nothing that can be done, they are liars, and they know it.
Of course, limiting those weapons isn’t the whole answer. There are more steps needed that include access to mental health care and research on the issue to know what will keep it from happening again. So no, an assault weapons ban alone will not solve the problem, but it is one step. And we have to start by taking one step, and then the next, and the next, and the next. We’re Americans. That used to mean there wasn’t any problem we couldn’t solve. What happened to us? When did we just give up?
So often I look at these NRA shills and wonder if they have no heart. But maybe what they have is a lack of imagination. They can’t imagine their children or grandchildren in this situation. They blissfully ignore the suffering of parents as they lose the most precious thing in their life, because it hasn’t affected them. They prefer to hide their heads in the sand so they may worship at the altar of the gun.
But I do have an imagination. And I have a heart. I will do whatever it takes to make progress on this issue. I will call my representatives. I will use my words, as I am doing here. I will use my actions when I see a way to do so. Columbine. Sandy Hook. Stoneman Douglas. Robb Elementary. What school will next be added to the list. One near you? Will it take happening at a school your child attends before you take action? I hope not, because then it may be too late.
Don’t let the lack of empathy and imagination condemn more children to a brutal death. Look at the faces of these 19 children. What would you do to protect your child? Do it. Now. We, as citizens, need to let our demands be heard. Call your representatives and let them know what you expect from them and hold them accountable for their inaction.
Not another child. Please. Not one more. Take the power from the gunman’s hands, and put it in your own. Don’t let a lack of imagination in how we might fix this take another life.
Lately, I have been completely adrift when it comes to my writing. I’ve been stuck in the Sargasso Sea of wordsI have two manuscripts that need to be edited. I have several ideas bouncing around in my head. And yet… I do none of it. The world’s events have filled my mind with a swirl of worry, hope, despair, and joy. At times I worry about my lack of productivity, but I do know that eventually I will catch the wind again and tear across the ocean. It seems like lately, the sails have begun to ripple. The wind is rising.
But right now when I think about writing, my first thought is why. Why bother? What’s the point? The world is going up in flames. I can’t even focus on reading. Many others have told me they feel the same? So why write what nobody feels like reading?
I’ve written brief political posts, but then wonder if that’s the best thing to do. I know I can’t convince anyone. When I write it’s more to let those who see it the way I see it, know that they are not alone. Or perhaps, at best, sway someone who hasn’t formed a definite opinion by offering a perspective they may not have considered.
But does it raise the temperature or lower it? Cause more harm than good? When your friends and family don’t want to hear what you say, you only further the divide by speaking up. An enlightened person might rise above the petty concerns of politics and governance, only seeing the world beyond. I wish I were that enlightened. I’m not. What I am, is a culmination of my experiences.
Years ago, I took my first trip to Europe. I chose to visit the Netherlands, because I had a friend there who I could stay with and who would show me around. It was an amazing experience . I wandered Amsterdam, visiting the Van Gogh Museum and the Anne Frank House. Like so many teens, I had read Anne Frank’s Diary. When I read she had hid in an attic, I pictured an attic like my house, only accessed through a small crawl space, filled with insulation and mice droppings. I was so surprised to realize it was actually a fully functioning apartment. Still, it was cramped, and I don’t know how anyone could spend months, let alone years hiding, never going outside. Walking through those rooms, I could only imagine what it would be like to have people want to kill you, just because you exist. Her words were often childish, and yet also often profound. The visit was sobering.
How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.
Anne Frank
Another day we went to Arnhem where a major battle of WWII occurred. It was a beautiful town full of flowers and quaint homes. We walked among the displays, looking at pictures of the bombed out ruins the city had been 50 years earlier. It was hard to believe this peaceful and beautiful town had been the site of so much death and destruction. And then there was a realization that it had been a peaceful and beautiful little down before the war too. A place of peace and beauty wasn’t guaranteed to remain that way. It only takes careless human beings to turn heaven into hell.
We also had tea with my friend’s father one day. We talked about what we’d seen at the museum, and he told us stories about when he was a boy during the war. He talked about how when planes fly overhead all these years later, he still flinches, waiting for the bombs to drop. And he told of a Jewish family that he would smuggle food to on his bicycle, knowing if he was caught, he would be shot. I was amazed that I was in the presence of someone so brave who risked his life for his fellow man. He was a hero. I more or less told him this, and told him how wonderful it was that he was brave enough to do this. He began to tear up and his voice broke as he shook his head and said, “It wasn’t enough. I should have done more. So much more.”
That reaction informed me of the cost of war, more than any museum could have. The pain. The regret. It never leaves. Germans who lived through the war though they never took part in the atrocities, had a great deal of regret. They didn’t take part, but they also didn’t stop it. They didn’t speak up. They stayed silent out of fear. They know they should have done more. And they know their silence was deadly for others. The pain is deep, even decades later.
Those experiences when visiting Europe, left a deep mark on me. In the face of inhumanity and injustice, the cost of not speaking…. of not doing enough, is far greater than speaking up, even if you pay with your life.
And so, I can’t stay silent. Perhaps someday I’ll evolve enough that I won’t worry about the things of the world, and can let it all go to hell in a hand basket while staying in my happy place. But that’s not where I am today. Sometimes my anger still gets the better of me. So today, on the eve of a possible wave of violence, I simply want to remind anyone who reads this where domestic terrorism leads.
“I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.”
Mahatma Gandhi
Because, if Timothy McVeigh were alive today, he would have been in that crowd at the Capitol. He would be pleased with where the country is today. So if you stand with the insurrectionists on the 6th, you stand with the man who caused the horror above.
There is nothing I can do or say to convince anyone the elections weren’t stolen. No matter how many judges throw out cases; no matter how many election officials explain the heavily edited tapes presented by far-right conspiracy theorists show nothing unusual and no fraud; no matter how many Secretary’s of State from both parties, whose reputation is on the line, verify the vote was fair, they will never accept that they’ve been lied to and truly lost. There’s no appeal to reason with people who are in, hook, line, and sinker. But maybe, just maybe, someone might read this and even if they still believe the election was stolen, might question the cost of violence. It could be your daughter or granddaughter being cradled in a firefighters arms next time. It might be your son, grandson, wife, husband, father, mother, brother, sister who dies, alone, in a wave of violence.
I hope we can step back before we create permanent evil. And if you think speaking up might stop someone from violence, please don’t stay silent. Trust me, you will regret it if you do.
Four years ago, I remember the pits of despair at the election of Trump. Having friends who had worked on some of Trump’s projects, I knew what kind of man he was. I was afraid for the country. I was disappointed in my fellow citizens. That day, I was driving up to South Dakota, so had nine hours alone in my car to grieve and ruminate on how best to deal with what I knew was coming. I hoped I was wrong. I wasn’t.
But I do know the anger and despair so many Trump supporters are feeling today. Four years ago I didn’t believe there was any way enough people would fall for his con, or that he could possibly be elected. I trusted the polls. I trusted my fellow citizens. It’s part of why it was all so painful. So I get it. His supporters trusted Trump. They trusted him when he said the only way he could lose was if the Democrats cheated. His supporters surrounded themselves only with those that believe the same things and avoided anyone and anything that said anything different. They’ve believed everything he’s said for years. So to learn that he was wrong about this, is a gut punch. I saw their posts pre-election. They were 100% sure they were going to win. Been there, done that.
There are charges of fraud. If you have proof, then tell the proper authorities and let’s sort that out. I want a fair vote. I have no problem with a recount in Georgia or any other state where it’s necessary, because I want the count to be right, even if that means my candidate might lose the state. But that’s not good enough for his supporters. They only want in-person voting… so my friend who has a compromised immune system and rarely is able to go out in public, because she lives in South Dakota, where their complete lack of leadership has the virus raging out of control… she shouldn’t be allowed to have a voice? You’ve already taken away her freedom of movement, now she doesn’t get a vote?
And if you then say, “okay, she can vote by mail,” then what about me? I work with people who would likely die if they contracted the disease. I even have risk factors for getting a bad case msyelf. Should I be allowed to vote by mail? Yes? Okay, then we’re right back where we started. Each state did what they thought was best for their people, and they did it within their laws.
Trump fought to keep states from counting their mail in ballots early, counting on the anger and frustration his people would feel when they first saw him pull ahead with in-person voting, then day by day falling behind when the early voters’ ballots were counted. Those ballots were predominantly cast by Biden supporters because Trump told his people not to use mail-in ballots.
The fact that you weren’t prepared for the red-mirage, doesn’t mean you get to ask for a re-do and only count the ballots that went your way. Those votes were cast legally by the laws of each state, and if not, they have processes in place to catch those ballots. They are legally cast ballots and are valid. The only real way to commit fraud on the level required to alter the vote, is to reprogram the vote counting machines, and yet that’s not where we’re focused. Mail in voting has been done for over a hundred years, and is not the issue, regardless of what lies Trump spews.
The next few months are a bit scary. I see people posturing on social media, saying they’ve got the guns, and they’re going to war. Really? Have you thought it through? I mean really thought it through. Think about all the people you love. Your kids. Your parents, siblings, cousins, best friends, neighbors. Now pick a handful of them. Think about how much you love them. Now imagine lowering them into the ground and never seeing them again. Imagine your wife or husband being killed by a sniper as they went to buy groceries. Imagine your teenage son, who thought he would prove to you how tough he was, dead in the back of a pickup truck. Imagine going to bed at night, not sure if you’ll wake up, because your neighbors, who you once had barbecues with, might come over and kill you and your family in your sleep. Imagine never knowing if when you get in your car, there might be a car bomb strapped underneath. That’s civil war. People on your side die too. That’s what you are salivating for? Really?
I know the despair. I know the pain. When we were faced with a similar reality four years ago, when we were in despair, we held a march and we began to mobilize voter registration and a get-out-the-vote movements that lasted for the last four years. More people voted for Joe Biden than have ever voted for any president, so it clearly worked. If you don’t like the results, then get more people who think like you do, to vote. That’s how democracy works. That’s the American way. Ignoring the votes you don’t like is the authoritarian way.
When Obama was elected, I was so naive and looked forward to being a year into his term, knowing all those screaming that he was a Muslim, a communist, and a socialist, would see that he was none of those things and we could move forward together. I hadn’t factored in the disinformation machine that is Fox News.
This time I’m not naive. I no longer hope that a year into Biden’s term, the Trump supporters will come to realize that he’s not going to turn this country socialist. He’s not a communist. He’s not a pedophile. There are people who will continue to trust the latest conspiracy theory, even though the last 100 conspiracy theories they bought into, were proved not to be true. There are those who will never come around. But for those who begin to shake off all the lies they have heard in the last few years, we can move forward together, and hopefully the rest won’t go too far off the deep end while we make progress.
There was a joke going around the internet before the election. It went something like this:
There was a long line of people in line to vote early. Someone driving by slowed down, rolled down the window, and yelled, “How long have you been waiting?” And someone in line yelled, “Four years!.”
It’s been a long four years full of a great deal of pain for many, many people. Covid-19 is raging, and didn’t go away just because the election is over… yet another conspiracy theory proved wrong. We are going to suffer a great many more deaths before it gets better. It is going to take extraordinary effort by all of us to get it under control so we can get the economy and our lives back to normal. Our relationships with our allies are in tatters and trust is a difficult thing to rebuild. Authoritarian leaders around the world have been emboldened by our lack of leadership, and we’ll have to rebuild our reputation in order to deal with that. We need to rebuild our state department and intelligence agencies. Police and justice reform need to be tackled, and race relations repaired and strengthened. Our economy is struggling, with the poorest people suffering during this pandemic. It will take some incredibly remarkable policy and cooperation to end that suffering. We need to resolve our immigration and border problems. Climate change is causing disasters like we’ve never seen before.
I don’t envy Joe Biden and the mess he’s inherited, but I am grateful he stepped up and took on the task. I’m grateful we have leadership that believes in science, doctors, and facts. I’m grateful a man of morality and empathy is now leading our nation. I’m sorry if that upsets you. I wish it didn’t, because we have no desire to make conservatives cry.
If you live long enough, you begin to see history repeat itself, or at least rhyme with itself. Almost 30 years ago a black man was beaten on camera, though unliked George Floyd, he lived to tell his side of the story. But the lack of justice, the years of pent up anger over police abuse, and systemic racism, boiled over into the streets of Los Angeles. Businesses were burned. Lives were ended. Society unraveled. The conversation on systemic racism went national and so many promises were made after the violence ended, because sadly, it’s only after a paroxysm of violence that political leaders tend to take notice. But obviously those promises were left unfulfilled and nothing really changed, because here we are 30 years later, experiencing similar events in a different city. Making things worse this time, these riots are now packed with outside agitators.
Here is a section of my memoir, Professional Eavesdropper: The Adventures of a Teleprompter Operator in Hollywood. It will give you a small glimpse into what it was like to live without the peace and safety most of us take for granted.
In April of 92, I was finally leaving the crime-ridden streets of Hollywood for the safer streets of North Hollywood. It would be a little further drive into Hollywood, but I looked forward to a quieter neighborhood. Weeks prior I had asked for the day off to move. As I was loading up boxes, my phone rang. It was work. The Rodney King verdict was in and going to be read soon. After that, the mayor would be speaking, urging calm. My boss needed me to go downtown and prompt his speech.
I was furious. I had been promised this day off. I was going to be working the next few days, and wouldn’t have another chance to move. I had been in the business long enough not to feel the need to take every job offered, I refused the job. My boss was angry with me but finally convinced another operator to take the job. During the violence, he became trapped downtown. I felt bad for him, but as a woman amidst all the violence, I was grateful I wasn’t there.
The verdict was read, and despite the pleas for calm, violence began to break out. People were being pulled out of cars and beaten. It was coming closer to Hollywood. I threw everything into my car that I couldn’t bear to lose, and fled to my new apartment in a part of town that was not erupting in violence. I had a little 13 inch black and white TV I had bought when I first arrived in town. It was one of the things I had grabbed. I set it up in my new bedroom, maneuvered the rabbit ears until I picked up the local stations, and watched the city burn.
I saw businesses just up the street from our teleprompting company go up in flames. I saw buildings not far from my old, only partially vacated apartment on fire. It seemed like society was collapsing. And yet somehow, the next day I got up and went to work. I think everyone expected the worst was over. There had been a spasm of violence, and now order would return. Oh how naïve we all were.
Edward James Olmos – Marina Del Rey – 4/30/92
The memories of this shoot have been wiped away by the violence that started the night before. I remember it was outdoors on the marina. I remember Edward James Olmos couldn’t have been nicer. At one point during the shoot, he gathered the crew together and told us that everyone thought the riots were over, but they were just getting started. When the shoot ended for the day, he wanted us to go straight home and not leave. Things were about to get very bad.
We wrapped at 12:30 p.m. and we all felt the urgency of Mr. Olmos’ words. I was out of the location by 1. I dumped the gear off and fled the shop by 1:30. There air was dingy with smoke, and I saw a few people running, but nothing too horrible. Another operator was driving back to the shop around the same time, and while stopped at a stoplight, several guys came and started beating on the hood of his vehicle. With an open bed pickup full of teleprompter gear, he had to run through the red light to get away.
I felt lucky to have made it back to the shop unscathed. I went straight to my new North Hollywood apartment and watched my world burning on that little black and white screen. A cold fear started to form in the pit of my stomach. What if it didn’t stop? Right now average, everyday people, were rampaging through the streets, breaking windows, stealing, beating, and killing. There really was very little keeping us civilized. I came to understand how fragile the fabric of society is. Anarchy is nothing to aspire to. It’s terrifying.
I didn’t work for several days as the city burned, and finally order was restored. National Guard troops stood on the street corners of Hollywood, armed with rifles, though we later found out they had no ammo. There was a curfew in place, but work was the one exception. I was never stopped on my way to a job, but it was unsettling to see soldiers on the street. That was not the America I knew. It was not the America I wanted to live in.
{Journal entry made at the time – It started with young, black men, probably gang members, pulling white motorists from their cars, beating, robbing, and shooting them. It soon went to looting and burning. In all of this, the police were non-existent. All this went completely unchecked.
It started in South Central LA, a primarily black community. It quickly spread to areas previously thought safe from those kinds of disturbances. The area of Hollywood where I first lived, was heavily looted and burned. The area where I was living until the day the riots broke out, was looted and burned. Two stores on my block were destroyed. Even Beverly Hills was not unscathed. By the time the police and national guard were in place, it was all over. To this date, 58 peole died, almost a ½ billion dollars in damage was done. Over 2000 people were injured, 200 critically. This does not even begin to figure in those now homeless and unemployed because their businesses were burned.
Even worse is the fear and mistrust that have tripled since the rioting started. Rather than try and solve these problems as human beings, our leaders are pointing the fingers and saying, “It was the whites who held us down.” “It was the black gangs and criminals.” “It was rude Korean shop owners.” Etc.
After things settled down and the damage was assessed, there were lots of promises made about how the city was going to step up its services in black communities. They talked about police reform, more black-owned businesses, an end to food deserts, and more opportunities. As usual, there was talk, but the racial-socio-economic divide in Los Angeles continues to this day, with some of the worst homelessness in the country.
Will anything really change this time? Or will we just put a bandaid on it as usual. Tell ourselves it’s not our problem. Or will we all step up and make the Declaration of Independence finally ring true, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men (ahem, and women) are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Because it should be self-evident. George Floyd has every bit a right to life, liberty and the pursuit of Happiness as anyone else. I don’t know if he was truly passing counterfeit money. If he was, I don’t know if he knew he was. What I do know is that no human being deserves to die for 10 or 20 dollars.
I think about my friend Jeff, who years ago, was stopped for DWB (Driving While Black) in Burbank on his way to work at NBC. Jeff was a skinny, sweet, African American guy who loved to ride his longboard, meditate, and was about as non-violent as they come. Yet, because of the color of his skin, the police thought he looked suspicious. They kept him in handcuffs, sitting on the curb as cars drove by staring at him, repeatedly asking, “Who do you run with?” meaning, what gang do you belong to. He showed them his NBC credentials. It didn’t matter. “Who do you run with?” He had been tried and convicted in those officers eyes. He was black, therefore he belonged to a gang. Eventually, after verifying his employment, they let him go. Can you imagine having to wonder every day of your life, if this will be the day you get pulled over? And then wonder if it’s the day you might just die because of it?
Something has to change and as Benjamin Franklin said, “Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.” Well, I’m not affected directly, but I’m outraged. So are many others. Are you? Will this finally be the tipping point? Will you finally step outside of your comfort zone and stand up to ensure the systemic racism built into this country is exposed and reformed? Will you vote in leaders who work to unite and repair our rifts instead of casually firing off incendiary tweets that divide us? Will we all finally step up?
We must, because a change is gonna come. It must, or our divided country will fall to the injustice we have chosen to perpetuate.
Remember all those teen movies in the 80s? We loved them. They fueled our youthful hijinks. The role of boys was to try to get drunk and try to get some from girls. The role of girls was to get tipsy, get kissed, yet keep the boys at bay. Remember Porky’s? Basically a bunch of boys spying on naked girls showering. Or 16 Candles, where a major subplot was the boys trying to get a girl’s panties to prove they’d been with her. Recently Molly Ringwald talked about a scene in The Breakfast Club where a boy was under the desk basically trying to look and touch her under her skirt. She admitted that by today’s standards that scene is troubling. They all are. They should have been troubling then, but women were still being taught to blame themselves and not to embarrass the boy.
Troubling or not, those movies reflected the world I grew I up in. It reflects the world Brett Kavanaugh grew up in. Coming from a background of wealth and privilege, he actually had the status to live out those films. Despite his protestations that he was focused on schoolwork, fitness, and his many platonic friendships with girls — his friends, his yearbook, and his personal letters tell a different story. In other words, he lied.
So here’s the deal. There are parts of Brett Kavanaugh’s testimony I believe. I don’t believe he was bragging about a threesome when he mentioned a Devil’s Triangle. I do believe it was a drinking game with cups set up in a triangle. It’s typical that a kid hears a term and then morphs it into something in their own world. Threesome’s aren’t much of a part of a teenager’s world… drinking games are. Boofing? I have no idea what that really means. Again, I’m leaning towards a dumb teenage phrase. I remember us. We were stupid. I think Michael Avennati’s accusations are false. I don’t think BK ran a rape ring. But, I do believe the college story… again, fits the times and I could imagine it happening, exactly as she said.
However, the majority of Kavanaugh’s testimony was not credible. He dodged questions. He lied throughout, downplaying his drinking. Downplaying the culture of the time. And he portrayed the classic behavior of someone privileged who is being held accountable for his actions for the first time in his life. He believes he is owed the Supreme Court. It will be the perfect ending to his wealthy, privileged life, and when he might be denied the thing he thinks is his, he threw a tantrum. He was rude. He was partisan. He was biased.
Dr. Ford was calm. She was collected. She did not dodge a single question. Despite the Conman-In-Thief mocking her testimony, she actually did provide details about the things he said she didn’t know. She was even able to provide scientific backup to questions. Her story rang true. I could put myself in her position, and see it all happening.
Do I think Brett Kavanaugh intended to rape her? No. Am I sure he even remembers the incident? No. Perhaps he honestly doesn’t. Because to him, I’m sure it was nothing. He was drunk, and he was doing what boys his age did in that current culture. He and his friend probably thought everyone was having a good time, partly because it didn’t really matter how she felt, and partly because he meant it in fun, so it was fun. He threw her down, copped a feel, covered her mouth when she resisted, and then his buddy jumped on top of them in a goofy drunken moment, breaking it up. Then, in an alcohol haze, with nobody to have fun with anymore, he moved on, probably forgetting the whole thing in moments. Maybe it was more sinister, I don’t know, but the scene I painted is plausible for the times and both parties could come away with the version they tell now.
Would those actions make him unfit for the office of the Supreme Court? Nope. Not if he had responded something like this:
I testify before you, a humbled man. I did many things in high school and college I am no longer proud of. It was a different time and a different culture. I think back, and wish I could undo some of the things I did. I drank too much, and I was underage. I probably did and said things under the influence of alcohol I would never have done or said if I had been sober. It shames me, but I have learned so much in the past 36 years. I no longer drink to excess, because I know that will alter my actions. I no longer see women as a means to and end. Having daughters myself, I understand how I disrespected girls at the time. I don’t want them to have that experience. I don’t remember that evening, but if Dr. Ford’s testimony is true… even if it’s only partly true… I humbly and sincerely apologize for the pain I caused. I was a stupid boy, and I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry. Deeply. Please forgive me.
Had that been his response, I, and millions of women across America, would have sighed a deep sigh of relief. Finally, a man would have been a man, owned his actions, and apologized. While I still wouldn’t like that this man is on the Supreme Court, I could have relaxed knowing that he was an honest man. Instead we now know that his is a liar, completely partisan, and will do anything to protect his ego. He doesn’t care what his nomination does to the country. He deserves it. It’s his and he’ll take what he wants. So, in other words, nothing has changed in his life since that night in a bedroom at a party.
We also know that the Republicans in office have insured that for the rest of many of our lives, we are going to have a proven liar on the Supreme Court who hates Democrats/Liberals/Progressives, and now has an axe to grind with women. Until the day we die, most women will no longer feel we have access to justice in this country. The fair and independent judicial branch on our tree of Democracy will die when he is sworn in.
Bruce MacKinnon’s editorial cartoon for Sept. 29, 2018.
Brett Kavanaugh does not have the temperament, and is not fit for office. Only one party nominated him, rushed him through the process without full disclosure, and then covered their butts with a phony 5-day FBI investigation that only interviewed 9 people. Years and millions of dollars were spent investigating Hillary without a single charge, and they’re still screaming for more investigation, but one week and 9 interviews, none of who were principal players is just fine for a lifetime appointment. Hypocrisy much?
As a woman, you must vote in 2018 like your life depends on it. Because it does.
Before I get to the main topic, I want to speak to any writers who read my blog. There is a terrific podcast out there called Write or Die. Authors are interviewed about the road to publication and it is eye opening. I knew it was a long process, but until I listened to these authors, I had no idea how long. A part of me thinks it would have been good to know it can take 8 or 9 years to get a book from written to published before I took my leap. My 3 year financial cushion wasn’t nearly enough. On the other hand, it’s a good thing I didn’t know, or I never would have taken the leap. Give it a listen. It’s great information about getting published.
Now to the title – I’ve made the decision to end my Prime Membership and wean myself off Amazon. It’s something more Americans might want to consider. Let me lay out the reasons.
Brick and mortar stores have long warned that Amazon hurts local businesses. Local businesses employ local people, giving them money to spend, and building thriving local economies. I’ll admit there have been many times I have ordered products through Amazon that I know I could get locally, but it seemed so much easier to have it show up on my doorstep, rather than drive to get it. There was a good chance the price was better too.
Amazon’s policies are impossible for smaller businesses to compete with, and are creating entitled customers who expect the same service. No shipping expense, and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay to ship it back. Package stolen – Amazon refunds it fully or sends another, without many questions asked. When a business isn’t doing the volume Amazon does, they lose all profit with those policies. But if they don’t provide them, they lose all customers.
Amazon is the poster child for corporate greed – Recently, on the same day they announced huge profits, blasting through all expectations, they also raised the fee for Prime Membership citing rising costs. Riiiiiiiight. Jeff Bezos has so much money he’s using it to go to space, but he can’t pay his workers a living wage, and provides horrible working conditions. When Seattle tried to tax Amazon to help the homeless population, which has grown due to the high cost of living in the area, partially due to tech companies, Amazon fought back and killed the tax.
And for me, there’s a final kicker. They broadcast extremist views that are contributing to the deaths of Americans – NRA-TV.
I’ve got until December before my Prime membership renews, but I’ve already begun the process. I can’t get my cat food anywhere in town, but I can get it through PetCo. I’m searching out item after item and am finding it locally, ordering it directly from the manufacturer, or at the very least, another distributor. That doesn’t mean I won’t use Amazon from time to time. In fact, if I’m trying a new product, that’s exactly who I’ll go to, precisely for the free shipping and easy returns. But once I know I like something, I’ll buy it elsewhere.
Greed is not good, and right now neither is Amazon.
