This is 100% wrong.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
My dad and his stories
This is going to be sort of long, and sort of sappy, so skip it if you don't care for huggy-feely stuff. But with Thanksgiving tomorrow, I started thinking about a few things.
Right now, my brain is sizzling with the seemingly endless list of things I have to work on and finish between now and my wedding in April: the literature class, the master's thesis, the planning of the wedding itself, the job search. Lately, for every minute that passes I'm thinking about what I could have been doing to keep myself active, productive, to keep things moving toward their conclusion. It's easy, when I'm galloping along on my panic pony, to forget how hard my parents worked so that I could sit here on my couch and talk about being fatigued from worrying about finishing grad school, so that I could reach my goals, for the most part happy and in good health. It's harder to remember--and acknowledge--how grateful I am for my mother and father's support and encouragement and love.
But this just for Dad, and for the wonder and curiosity he sowed in me. This is for his stories, and his music, and his goofiness and his sternness. He is one of the things I'm most grateful for.
Dad didn't go to college, but he's eternally curious and knowledgable. He works a rather physically demanding blue collar job, even though he's close to 60 and now he's tall and wiry (but still pretty damn strong, for all that). My dad is, more or less, a quiet guy. He's an observer: Dad is the kind of guy who, in a room full of people, sits in the middle of them all and watches how they interact with each other, listens to what they say and how they react and how they laugh. And maybe because of this, Dad is also a hell of a storyteller.
He would come into the room my older sister and I shared when I was little, and tell us stories about being a little boy living on a Mississippi farm. He would tell me about Ma Fannie, his grandmother, and how when one day a chicken hawk lazily circled the sky above her chicken coop for hours, Ma Fannie spat to my father, "Sonny, bring me my axe," and how she shot the axe high into the air and chopped the hawk nearly in half and how, after the bird fell dead onto the dusty ground, Ma Fannie said, "now, get that axe out and clean it for me, Sonny." Dad would tell me about being a boy fishing alone on the river, cracking the meaty pecans that fell from the tree on which he rested as his cane pole sat across his lap, and almost having a heart attack when a huge black bear bounded out of the woods and across the river to attack him, and how he poked that hulking monster in the eye with his cane pole and flew through the trees along the riverbank and toward the farm and safety.
Dad would tell me about moving to Indiana in the sixties, with his mother and his sisters and brother, he older than all of his siblings, and wrapping up silverware for his little sisters and wrapping up twine for his little brother for Christmas. He would tell me about losing his younger sister when she died during surgery for severe scoliosis, and how his mother, deflated by grief but buoyed by her other children, went back to her jobs a day or two afterward. He would tell me about when he was 16 and he played guitar in an R&B band (with a name that paid homage to the Fantastic Four, his favorite comic book) so that he could buy clothes and shoes for his little sisters and brother.
My dad shared his life with me--the things he did and the things that happened to him as he grew up. Or, you know, things that maybe didn't happen--although I'm still amazed when my aunts and uncle confirm some of his more outrageous tales, like when he was nearly killed running from a furious mother sow. Dad had been playing football with her babies. He was practicing field goal kicks.
But he also taught me the importance of taking care of myself and other people. My dad, through telling me how his grandparents and his mother worked--always, and always hard--told me that work is the only way to earn and truly own what you want. He told me to stay away from people who couldn't be honest with me. He told me that very few people will help someone else simply out of the goodness of their hearts, but that, every now and then, I should try to do just that. And, more important than anything, Dad told me that I must always take care of my family, that family is a blessing and the highest priority a person should have.
And Dad taught by example. My dad taught me that it's okay to be goofy. Dad taught me to sing and how to read. He taught me about Booker T. Washington and Marcus Garvey and Marvin Gaye and Fela Kuti. He taught me that God loves me, no matter who or what I am. He taught me that everyone who does right by themselves and everyone else can do just about anything.
And my dad made me feel like the most important little girl in the world. He still does.
So, sitting here and thinking about my dad, thinking about much he's given me, makes me feel a little better, a little calmer. It also reminds me that I have a shitload of reading to do, and that I should get to it so I can enjoy my parens' incredible cooking tomorrow without too much anxiety.
Right now, my brain is sizzling with the seemingly endless list of things I have to work on and finish between now and my wedding in April: the literature class, the master's thesis, the planning of the wedding itself, the job search. Lately, for every minute that passes I'm thinking about what I could have been doing to keep myself active, productive, to keep things moving toward their conclusion. It's easy, when I'm galloping along on my panic pony, to forget how hard my parents worked so that I could sit here on my couch and talk about being fatigued from worrying about finishing grad school, so that I could reach my goals, for the most part happy and in good health. It's harder to remember--and acknowledge--how grateful I am for my mother and father's support and encouragement and love.
But this just for Dad, and for the wonder and curiosity he sowed in me. This is for his stories, and his music, and his goofiness and his sternness. He is one of the things I'm most grateful for.
Dad didn't go to college, but he's eternally curious and knowledgable. He works a rather physically demanding blue collar job, even though he's close to 60 and now he's tall and wiry (but still pretty damn strong, for all that). My dad is, more or less, a quiet guy. He's an observer: Dad is the kind of guy who, in a room full of people, sits in the middle of them all and watches how they interact with each other, listens to what they say and how they react and how they laugh. And maybe because of this, Dad is also a hell of a storyteller.
He would come into the room my older sister and I shared when I was little, and tell us stories about being a little boy living on a Mississippi farm. He would tell me about Ma Fannie, his grandmother, and how when one day a chicken hawk lazily circled the sky above her chicken coop for hours, Ma Fannie spat to my father, "Sonny, bring me my axe," and how she shot the axe high into the air and chopped the hawk nearly in half and how, after the bird fell dead onto the dusty ground, Ma Fannie said, "now, get that axe out and clean it for me, Sonny." Dad would tell me about being a boy fishing alone on the river, cracking the meaty pecans that fell from the tree on which he rested as his cane pole sat across his lap, and almost having a heart attack when a huge black bear bounded out of the woods and across the river to attack him, and how he poked that hulking monster in the eye with his cane pole and flew through the trees along the riverbank and toward the farm and safety.
Dad would tell me about moving to Indiana in the sixties, with his mother and his sisters and brother, he older than all of his siblings, and wrapping up silverware for his little sisters and wrapping up twine for his little brother for Christmas. He would tell me about losing his younger sister when she died during surgery for severe scoliosis, and how his mother, deflated by grief but buoyed by her other children, went back to her jobs a day or two afterward. He would tell me about when he was 16 and he played guitar in an R&B band (with a name that paid homage to the Fantastic Four, his favorite comic book) so that he could buy clothes and shoes for his little sisters and brother.
My dad shared his life with me--the things he did and the things that happened to him as he grew up. Or, you know, things that maybe didn't happen--although I'm still amazed when my aunts and uncle confirm some of his more outrageous tales, like when he was nearly killed running from a furious mother sow. Dad had been playing football with her babies. He was practicing field goal kicks.
But he also taught me the importance of taking care of myself and other people. My dad, through telling me how his grandparents and his mother worked--always, and always hard--told me that work is the only way to earn and truly own what you want. He told me to stay away from people who couldn't be honest with me. He told me that very few people will help someone else simply out of the goodness of their hearts, but that, every now and then, I should try to do just that. And, more important than anything, Dad told me that I must always take care of my family, that family is a blessing and the highest priority a person should have.
And Dad taught by example. My dad taught me that it's okay to be goofy. Dad taught me to sing and how to read. He taught me about Booker T. Washington and Marcus Garvey and Marvin Gaye and Fela Kuti. He taught me that God loves me, no matter who or what I am. He taught me that everyone who does right by themselves and everyone else can do just about anything.
And my dad made me feel like the most important little girl in the world. He still does.
So, sitting here and thinking about my dad, thinking about much he's given me, makes me feel a little better, a little calmer. It also reminds me that I have a shitload of reading to do, and that I should get to it so I can enjoy my parens' incredible cooking tomorrow without too much anxiety.
President (-Elect) Obama Puts the Smack Down
Okay...so, I got a little weak-kneed today watching the end of the third press conference Obama's given this week. After smacking down a greedy reporter for mentioning a Cabinet he hasn't even appointed yet, Obama not only answered the guy's multipart question, but addressed--in unambiguous language--the "where's my change?" whine that's been floating around on neocon and liberal blogs alike:
"Understand where the vision for change comes from, first and foremost," he said. "It comes from me. That's my job, to provide a vision in terms of where we are going and to make sure then that my team is implementing [that vision]."
He's taking charge, keeping cool, and moving forward. It's reassuring. And kinda hot.
He's the Decider. We've heard that before, of course, but this time we know those decisions will be made after...you know...listening to people and talking about stuff. Totally different.
Before ending the presser, he suggested that anyone needing cooking tips hit up Paul and Austan (yes, Volker and Goolsbee) for their turkey secrets, as there was a bit of a competition between the two. Always leave 'em smiling.
So...I wonder what GWB was doing today...
"Understand where the vision for change comes from, first and foremost," he said. "It comes from me. That's my job, to provide a vision in terms of where we are going and to make sure then that my team is implementing [that vision]."
He's taking charge, keeping cool, and moving forward. It's reassuring. And kinda hot.
He's the Decider. We've heard that before, of course, but this time we know those decisions will be made after...you know...listening to people and talking about stuff. Totally different.
Before ending the presser, he suggested that anyone needing cooking tips hit up Paul and Austan (yes, Volker and Goolsbee) for their turkey secrets, as there was a bit of a competition between the two. Always leave 'em smiling.
So...I wonder what GWB was doing today...
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The New "President"
Saw this mentioned in comments on Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog over at the Atlantic and about died. I can totally see this being what Obama's thinking in his head, but doesn't say, during press conferences. And even though "VAJAAAAAYJAAAAAY!" goes way too far...that shit is hilarious.
See more funny videos at Funny or Die
Monday, November 24, 2008
Poor David Alan Grier...
He knows that no one actually watches "Chocolate News," so he's just trying to get his next project started. Bless his heart.
No, it's not DAG (I don't think so, anyway)--but y'all who remember "In Living Color" can't tell me this doesn't sound like Calhoun Tubbs. Don't he look scurry?
No, it's not DAG (I don't think so, anyway)--but y'all who remember "In Living Color" can't tell me this doesn't sound like Calhoun Tubbs. Don't he look scurry?
When Omni-Haters Attack: Alan Keyes
Oh, Alan Keyes. What am I going to do with you? It's not just that you're a horrible human being to those around you (what with the disowning your lesbian daughter thing). No, you can't be satsfied with fucking up the lives of those close to you and being what I am sure was the prototype for Uncle Ruckus--you have to try to fuck everything up for everyone else.You ran for president in 2000 and got a little traction, but people dropped you like a used condom once they really started listening to you. Then, you ran in Illinois against a young and promising upstart with a funny name, and you got your ass whipped. You tried to run for pres in 2008 and got bounced around like a drunk, chubby blonde at a frat party because no one wanted to be responsible for your epic dumbassery. And now that the skinny guy with the funny name becomes the first black president before you (sorry, Bill!), you want to start shit.
And not even some new shit, either--some old, many-times-debunked shit:
According to a press release from the American Independent Party, former presidential candidate Alan Keyes and other members of the party have filed suit in California Superior Court in Sacramento to stop the state from giving its electoral votes to President-elect Barack Obama until documentary evidence is provided to prove Obama is indeed a natural born citizen of the United States. A copy of the writ can be found here.
Seriously, dude? People have already tried this and failed; the subject is now, and forever, closed. Are you really going to be the sore loser cockbite who gets taken down by Snopes? Obama was born in Hawaii. He is a natural-born citizen. And, in less than 60 days, he will be president (thank God).
I think it's time you think about a new career. With your passion for scary moral policing, have you considered returning to the Republican party? I hear there are lots of openings.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Obama-Biden Civil Rights Plan Kicks Ass
He's not even president yet, and he's already doing his best to facilitate change. Take a look at Obama's plan to strengthen civil rights, which includes women, minorities, and the GLBT community. I'm thrilled to see that he wants to repeal DADT, as well as expand adoption rights for gays and lesbians. No, he hasn't said anything about making gay marriage legal, but he does agree that the Federal Marriage Amendment was about some bullshit. I am incredibly proud to have voted for a president who wants every single citizen of this country to be equal. Yes we can!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Adam Joseph: the New Gay Heartthrob
If you don't read this often or you don't know me personally, I'll say it again: I'm a Friend of the Gays. I was a weirdo and a misfit growing up, and I always found friendship and comfort with the other misfits and outcasts. Some of my best friends through middle school and high school were gay boys, and I learned respect and acceptance from them. So, that's part of why I think this video is awesome.
One of my friends sent "Faggoty Attention" by Adam Joseph to me, and I have fallen in love with this song. I'm always happy to see the younger generation of gays empowering and celebrating themselves, and this boy is quite comfortable in his own flower-scented, A&F-clothed, glitter-covered skin. Also, compared to the repetitive shit they play on the radio, this song is the jam--yes, some of the lyrics are cheesy, but most of them are clever ("I won't ask, I won't tell/promise you won't go to hell"), and the kid has a really decent voice. He's like Jonny McGovern's funnier, slightly more talented little brother. Finally...the "straight" guy in the video is kinda hot.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Sarah's Palindrones
I know people are sick of hearing about and from Sarah Palin. Sorry, but I don't feel the same way, and here's why: she is entertaining as hell. Seriously--have you ever really, closely listened to her talk? Her speech is like the audio equivalent of an MC Escher painting. Behold:
Sitting here in these chairs that I’m going to be proposing but in working with these governors who again on the front lines are forced to and it’s our privileged obligation to find solutions to the challenges facing our own states every day being held accountable, not being just one of many just casting votes or voting present every once in a while, we don’t get away with that. We have to balance budgets and we’re dealing with multibillion dollar budgets and tens of thousands of employees in our organizations.
See? It's as fascinating as it is perplexing. Like "Nell Goes to Washington"--she's chickabee-ing her way to the national stage.
The linguaphile (is that even a word?) in me is amazed that anything she says can be accepted as coherent speech. The semi-activist in me wants her to be at the helm of the Republican ship, so she can ram it into the biggest icebergs she can find.
EDIT: I found the article on Slate.com which attempts to diagram Sarah Palin's sentences. Again, it's interesting, though. Also.
Sitting here in these chairs that I’m going to be proposing but in working with these governors who again on the front lines are forced to and it’s our privileged obligation to find solutions to the challenges facing our own states every day being held accountable, not being just one of many just casting votes or voting present every once in a while, we don’t get away with that. We have to balance budgets and we’re dealing with multibillion dollar budgets and tens of thousands of employees in our organizations.
See? It's as fascinating as it is perplexing. Like "Nell Goes to Washington"--she's chickabee-ing her way to the national stage.
The linguaphile (is that even a word?) in me is amazed that anything she says can be accepted as coherent speech. The semi-activist in me wants her to be at the helm of the Republican ship, so she can ram it into the biggest icebergs she can find.
EDIT: I found the article on Slate.com which attempts to diagram Sarah Palin's sentences. Again, it's interesting, though. Also.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sleeping with the Enemy: Shep Smith of Fox News
Sometimes when I'm feeling peckish or in need of laugh, I go to Fox News's website and collect my LOLs. Rob has a much more regular habit than I do of visiting their site and watching the TV news channel--in his defense, he does it more for their stories on aliens and roving lesbian gun gangs than for actual news.
Anyway, it's so rare to see anything worth listening to on Fix--er--Fox--that I've been sitting up and paying attention whenever Shep Smith does something decent. A couple of weeks ago, he punked "Joe" the "Plumber"; this time, it's a bunch of idiots trying to blame the media for Obama's win. The poor guy sounds exasperated, but it's still a remarkable sight--watching an anchor on Fox talk sense. Observe.
Anyway, it's so rare to see anything worth listening to on Fix--er--Fox--that I've been sitting up and paying attention whenever Shep Smith does something decent. A couple of weeks ago, he punked "Joe" the "Plumber"; this time, it's a bunch of idiots trying to blame the media for Obama's win. The poor guy sounds exasperated, but it's still a remarkable sight--watching an anchor on Fox talk sense. Observe.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
This is why we cannot rise as a people.
"Keyshia Cole" The Way It Is" has stolen my very soul. This show is the reason all those folks in Appalachia voted against Obama. It's the reason Korean wig shops stay in business. It's the reason black folks have a long way to go before we make it to the top. Thanks to Crunk and Disorderly for bringing this mess to my attention--I'd all but forgotten about this show.
But, damn, I cannot stop watching this shit. It's almost as good as "Being Bobby Brown"--I'm telling you, if they EVER release that on DVD, I will lock myself in the bedroom with my laptop, a box of wine and a portable freezer full of GaGa, and watch every single disc.
What in the fresh hell is wrong with me??
Monday, November 10, 2008
SMS (Save My Sanity)
This one's mostly about me. If you don't care, that's fine--just skip it.
Last week was emotional--we made history, after all, and something so overwhelmingly powerful was enough to wring tears of joy and sorrow (especially for us black folks who wished that departed parents or grandparents could see this moment) from us throughout the week. But, you know, we still have jobs and school and shit. History doesn't mean you get to call in sick the next day or skip turning in that paper that's due.
Knowing this was the case, I did everything I could to stay on task. In the end, the week's events were nothing more than a hiccup in a characteristically crazy week, but it brought home for me just how much crap I have to finish by the first week of December. My thesis isn't going to be the hundred-page behemoth I thought it would, but it should weigh in at about sixty to seventy pages--nothing to sneeze at, lemme tell ya. Add to this the novel-and-a-paper-a-week Caribbean literature course I'm taking, and the twenty-pager due for that class at the end of the semester, and you have a rather heavy academic load. I also work full time--the office is mercifully quiet right now, so I can use work time to read and do research and write, if I need to. Still, it's not study hall--that means I have to, you know, work sometimes.
Oh--and I'm looking for jobs in Chicago, as the fiance and I are eager to move there before the wedding in April and get our new life started. Well, the fiance is eager to move before the wedding--I'm just as eager to make sure we're 100% prepared for a move, and put it off til May or June. School, a full time job, and planning a wedding doesn't leave a whole lot of time for job hunting. And just when am I going to take time off for any interviews I might land right now? Between classes? Should I drive up in the middle of the night, do a morning interview, and drive back to Indy to finish a work day? And who's going to look for an apartment? Am I the one who gets to take more time off from work to do that? I didn't mention planning the wedding because most of the big stuff is out of the way, but there's sure to be a long list of things that need to be attended to between now and April 18th.
While I thrive on having a full plate, this whole job-and-school thing is feeding me plenty. Still, I too would love to be in Chicago before our wedding, improbable as that prospect is. I just can't do all of this right now, damn it! I'm barely sleeping as it is--do I really want to drive my loopy ass up and down I-65 once a week looking for work and shelter?
So, I'm turning the tables, folks. This little blog used to be an advice column, but I'm asking you all for help. How do I juggle all of these flaming swords? Do I try to job hunt while I'm writing papers and planning a wedding? Should I be on medication?
Comments are welcome; you can also e-mail me at solikecandy@yahoo.com. Thanks, y'all. More later.
Last week was emotional--we made history, after all, and something so overwhelmingly powerful was enough to wring tears of joy and sorrow (especially for us black folks who wished that departed parents or grandparents could see this moment) from us throughout the week. But, you know, we still have jobs and school and shit. History doesn't mean you get to call in sick the next day or skip turning in that paper that's due.
Knowing this was the case, I did everything I could to stay on task. In the end, the week's events were nothing more than a hiccup in a characteristically crazy week, but it brought home for me just how much crap I have to finish by the first week of December. My thesis isn't going to be the hundred-page behemoth I thought it would, but it should weigh in at about sixty to seventy pages--nothing to sneeze at, lemme tell ya. Add to this the novel-and-a-paper-a-week Caribbean literature course I'm taking, and the twenty-pager due for that class at the end of the semester, and you have a rather heavy academic load. I also work full time--the office is mercifully quiet right now, so I can use work time to read and do research and write, if I need to. Still, it's not study hall--that means I have to, you know, work sometimes.
Oh--and I'm looking for jobs in Chicago, as the fiance and I are eager to move there before the wedding in April and get our new life started. Well, the fiance is eager to move before the wedding--I'm just as eager to make sure we're 100% prepared for a move, and put it off til May or June. School, a full time job, and planning a wedding doesn't leave a whole lot of time for job hunting. And just when am I going to take time off for any interviews I might land right now? Between classes? Should I drive up in the middle of the night, do a morning interview, and drive back to Indy to finish a work day? And who's going to look for an apartment? Am I the one who gets to take more time off from work to do that? I didn't mention planning the wedding because most of the big stuff is out of the way, but there's sure to be a long list of things that need to be attended to between now and April 18th.
While I thrive on having a full plate, this whole job-and-school thing is feeding me plenty. Still, I too would love to be in Chicago before our wedding, improbable as that prospect is. I just can't do all of this right now, damn it! I'm barely sleeping as it is--do I really want to drive my loopy ass up and down I-65 once a week looking for work and shelter?
So, I'm turning the tables, folks. This little blog used to be an advice column, but I'm asking you all for help. How do I juggle all of these flaming swords? Do I try to job hunt while I'm writing papers and planning a wedding? Should I be on medication?
Comments are welcome; you can also e-mail me at solikecandy@yahoo.com. Thanks, y'all. More later.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Even kids get it
I found the CNN video (I can't embed it in the post for some reason) of those Ron Clark Academy kids being interviewed...and watched again...and teared up a little. When will this stop being so damned emotional? Yeesh.
The United States of Hotness
Don't front. You know this is a sexy ass chief of staff.
It's official: Rahm Emanuel has accepted Obama's job offer as White House Chief of Staff. Outside of Illinois and hardcore political junkies, he's somewhat unknown--but that's quickly changing as his pedigree is being examined. A former Clinton White House senior adviser, Emanuel is currently an Illinois congressman with a reputation of being an aggressive negotiator and having a fiery temper--as in sending a rotting fish to a sloppy pollster. He was also a ballet dancer, and earned a scholarship to the Joffrey Ballet before his career in politics. Intelligent, aggressive, and graceful. Yum.
It looks like Obama's choice of Emanuel is getting mixed reviews. Very few folks will deny that Emanuel is talented: a former investment banker, his knowledge of the ins and outs of the stock market is sure to be an asset at a time when Wall Street is in complete disarray. And his seven years with the Clinton adminstration insure that he'll hit the ground running when he returns to Washington. But his sometimes abrasive demeanor not only intimidates, but turns some folks off. He's known to drop F-bombs frequently, and was once witnessed in a fit of anger plunging a knife into a dinner table, calling for the deaths of political opponents. I'm sure it was all in good fun.
I think Emanuel will be bad cop to Obama's smooth and cool good cop--sort of like partners on a detective show, the suave black guy and the intense, passionate Israeli, prowling the streets and serving the bad guys with a big dose of justice. And looking really, really good while doing it.
Now that one position is filled, it should be interesting--fun, even--to see how the rest of President Obama's cabinet shapes up. Politics have never been more engaging. Or sexier. Woo.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
The Result of Change
So, I'm watching CNN and they just showed those kids from Ron Clark Academy who did the T.I. song about voting. Two black boys in the class are embracing each other; one of them saying, "we made history." When another boy talked about how this election means he can do anything, he choked up.
This video is of the kids talking about the issues debated in the election. Children who have informed opinions.
Damn it, now I'm crying again. Fuck.
This video is of the kids talking about the issues debated in the election. Children who have informed opinions.
Damn it, now I'm crying again. Fuck.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Yes. We. Did.
I'm in tears right now and talking to my mom. We have a black president.
And Obama kicked. McCain's. ASS.
This is for my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, for my future children. This is for every single person in this country. My children will live in a better country, in a country where being biracial won't be the stigma it was when my friends and I were growing up. Hell, a biracial man is president (-elect).
Watching McCain's concession speech. Much love for being positive about this, Johnny, but in the immortal words of Smokey: McCain, you got knocked the FUCK OUT!
And Obama kicked. McCain's. ASS.
This is for my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, for my future children. This is for every single person in this country. My children will live in a better country, in a country where being biracial won't be the stigma it was when my friends and I were growing up. Hell, a biracial man is president (-elect).
Watching McCain's concession speech. Much love for being positive about this, Johnny, but in the immortal words of Smokey: McCain, you got knocked the FUCK OUT!
EV: 207/135
Republican commentator Alex Castellanos on CNN: "All we need are nine votes from the Supreme Court, and we can win this."
Live blogging the election
I wanted to wait a little before I started blogging...just in case there was a disappointment in store. But things are looking pretty damn good.
Watching on CNN. The Obama rally looks like that "I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing" Coca-Cola video. The McCain rally looks like the kind of funeral where the mourners are trying to "celebrate the life" of the departed.
Watching on CNN. The Obama rally looks like that "I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing" Coca-Cola video. The McCain rally looks like the kind of funeral where the mourners are trying to "celebrate the life" of the departed.
Election Day 2008 Mix
Friends who read this blog know I'm a serious music junkie--so, in honor of this historic day, I've made a mix of songs that should keep me going today:
Move On Up--Curtis Mayfield
Yes, You--Bobby McFerrin
Keep Marchin--Raphael Saadiq
Omid (Hope)--Thievery Corporation
Changes--David Bowie
Get Up Offa That Thing--James Brown ("Say It Loud" isn't inclusive enough!)
You Got Me Up--Jamie Lidell
The Man Comes Around--Johnny Cash
Type--Living Colour
Star Spangled Banner--Marvin Gaye
Hot Night--Me'shell Ndegeocello
Secret O' Life--James Taylor
My Kind of People--Cee-Lo
Go-Go Gadget Gospel--Gnarls Barkley
One Nation Under A Groove--Funkdelic
'Ta Bueno Ya--Albita
Send It On--D'Angelo
Sagal Ko (Honor Her)--Youssou N'Dour
It's Your Thing--The Isley Brothers
I Want To Take You Higher--Sly and the Family Stone
Higher Ground--Stevie Wonder
Baby I'm A Star--Prince
Lovely Day--Bill Withers
If you've got those songs in your iPod/hard drive/CD collection, put them on a playlist and try to enjoy the day.
Move On Up--Curtis Mayfield
Yes, You--Bobby McFerrin
Keep Marchin--Raphael Saadiq
Omid (Hope)--Thievery Corporation
Changes--David Bowie
Get Up Offa That Thing--James Brown ("Say It Loud" isn't inclusive enough!)
You Got Me Up--Jamie Lidell
The Man Comes Around--Johnny Cash
Type--Living Colour
Star Spangled Banner--Marvin Gaye
Hot Night--Me'shell Ndegeocello
Secret O' Life--James Taylor
My Kind of People--Cee-Lo
Go-Go Gadget Gospel--Gnarls Barkley
One Nation Under A Groove--Funkdelic
'Ta Bueno Ya--Albita
Send It On--D'Angelo
Sagal Ko (Honor Her)--Youssou N'Dour
It's Your Thing--The Isley Brothers
I Want To Take You Higher--Sly and the Family Stone
Higher Ground--Stevie Wonder
Baby I'm A Star--Prince
Lovely Day--Bill Withers
If you've got those songs in your iPod/hard drive/CD collection, put them on a playlist and try to enjoy the day.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
No candy from the witch
Here's a woman in the Detroit area who denied kids of Obama supporters candy. Seriously. When told she made kids cry, her response was, "Oh, well."
This woman is going to hell with gasoline drawls on.
EDIT: I just found out from the Daily Kos that this woman was a Michigan delegate at this year's Republican National Convention. Can't someone keep all these knuckledragging misanthropes out of the spotlight? This is so not what they need right now.
This woman is going to hell with gasoline drawls on.
EDIT: I just found out from the Daily Kos that this woman was a Michigan delegate at this year's Republican National Convention. Can't someone keep all these knuckledragging misanthropes out of the spotlight? This is so not what they need right now.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
The definition of "funny/sad"
Palin just got LePunked.
Two DJ's from Canada called the Masked Avengers managed to get a call with Sarah Palin by convincing her--and her staff--that one of them was French president Nicholas Sarkozy. The following six minutes contain the funniest, saddest, scariest audio I've heard in a very long time. It's hilarious because she's so fangirly ("John McCain and I--we love you"); sad because the guy drops about ten different hints that something funky is going on, and she doesn't pick up on a single one; scary because...well...THIS WOMAN COULD BE PRESIDENT. Please keep that thought in mind while you listen.
Two DJ's from Canada called the Masked Avengers managed to get a call with Sarah Palin by convincing her--and her staff--that one of them was French president Nicholas Sarkozy. The following six minutes contain the funniest, saddest, scariest audio I've heard in a very long time. It's hilarious because she's so fangirly ("John McCain and I--we love you"); sad because the guy drops about ten different hints that something funky is going on, and she doesn't pick up on a single one; scary because...well...THIS WOMAN COULD BE PRESIDENT. Please keep that thought in mind while you listen.
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