Something's not right about this upside-down budget compromise. The Bush administration advocated and endorsed the free-wheeling deals banks conducted to the detriment of the people and the nation's economy. Suddenly, everybody gets to the table and it's the democrats who are in favor of accepting some of the Paulson plan with adjustments that have been reported on but not announced and the republicans are stomping around with their arms folded in objection to their leader's ruining of the economy. It's almost like the democrats are in favor of the "Bush plan" and the republicans are against it.
After the dust settles, the republicans can whine on the campaign trail that they were battling for the American people all the time and the democrats were in it for the okeydoke, twisting the screws into an already pained populace.
The new mantra: McCain stops everything to put "country first" and Obama and the democrats wanted to keep "business as usual" by making deals behind closed doors and keeping business first.
I feel like Chavez: I'm smelling sulfur...
Friday, September 26, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Where does the line form?
After watching the economic bigheads trying over the weekend to explain why it's okay to give billions of dollars to the CEOs holding this country's economy hostage, I want to know where the line is being formed to get free money from the government. Who's doling it out: the infomercial guy with the green suit with the dollar signs all over it?
And now they're outraged because Congress has grown balls large enough to inhibit their bending over to take this idea with a "yazza boss." They must have had the balls on back order from back when the Patriot Act was signed 'cause they're doing their best now to stand up tall enough to get re-elected by the folks back home...at least the ones who still have a home.
But back to the free money. You cannot convince me the CEOs of the banks and mortgage holders and real estate people didn't know what was going on while it was going on. And if the CEOs didn't know, they deserve to choke on the strings of the golden parachute they're trying to ride out of this mess. If they didn't know, they don't deserve the money because they slept on the job. If they did know, they don't deserve to be paid for bringing economic ruin to the country.
Good news and bad news is that I don't own property so I wasn't drowned by the first wave of calamity and my family members who did buy property during the boom got fixed-rate mortgages. But I do have a couple of feeble 401K accounts that are going to look rather puny when I get the next reports.
Thanks, Mr. Deregulator. I hope to give you more time in your future to visit all of the nine homes you own....
And now they're outraged because Congress has grown balls large enough to inhibit their bending over to take this idea with a "yazza boss." They must have had the balls on back order from back when the Patriot Act was signed 'cause they're doing their best now to stand up tall enough to get re-elected by the folks back home...at least the ones who still have a home.
But back to the free money. You cannot convince me the CEOs of the banks and mortgage holders and real estate people didn't know what was going on while it was going on. And if the CEOs didn't know, they deserve to choke on the strings of the golden parachute they're trying to ride out of this mess. If they didn't know, they don't deserve the money because they slept on the job. If they did know, they don't deserve to be paid for bringing economic ruin to the country.
Good news and bad news is that I don't own property so I wasn't drowned by the first wave of calamity and my family members who did buy property during the boom got fixed-rate mortgages. But I do have a couple of feeble 401K accounts that are going to look rather puny when I get the next reports.
Thanks, Mr. Deregulator. I hope to give you more time in your future to visit all of the nine homes you own....
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Mommy, what's a sexist?
State investigations and scandals aside, I'm having problems trying to not only understand McCain's pick for VP but also the campaign to hush up dissent about said nominee.
I suppose they reason that it worked for the march to war by tying the hands of the media by proclaiming it un-American by asking the questions out loud that some of us had about the push to attack a country that hadn't fired a single shot at us.
But now to question Palin's readiness to lead as being sexist has me scratching my feminist head. In the card game Bid Whist, we call it reneging when you play a card out of turn as a trump card. Now it's sexist to just ask whether she doesn't already have enough on her plate? When did women give up the privilege of raising their children? I went back to work six weeks after my son was born and several months later added college classes to my full-time job AND my motherhood duties. It was hell juggling all three balls but I wouldn't have changed anything and I got my degree, kept my job and my son (and his older sister) survived his mother's busy life.
But back to Palin. I watched the GOP attack my beloved profession of journalism and lay the specter of sexism on it. Interestingly, though, they stood next to their compatriots who proudly wore really sexist campaign buttons proclaiming her sexuality as an attribute to the ticket. "Hot governor from a cool state" and "I'd tap Palin" and "hot hockey mom" are popular items.
As a woman, as a feminist I find it offensive for people to go to such a base level of "appeal" to distract the attention to the quality of the candidate as a potential leader of the free world. How could she even take herself seriously if more people start staring at her ass like McCain did instead of listening to her policy statements? I want her to use her brain power and not her estrogen power to persuade the country's stance on the important issues of the day. It's like I'm back in some junior high school fantasy, being hot for teacher...
Whether the GOP ticket is victorious in November or not, I feel it's shameful to inject sexuality into a political landscape for a job as important as this.
I suppose they reason that it worked for the march to war by tying the hands of the media by proclaiming it un-American by asking the questions out loud that some of us had about the push to attack a country that hadn't fired a single shot at us.
But now to question Palin's readiness to lead as being sexist has me scratching my feminist head. In the card game Bid Whist, we call it reneging when you play a card out of turn as a trump card. Now it's sexist to just ask whether she doesn't already have enough on her plate? When did women give up the privilege of raising their children? I went back to work six weeks after my son was born and several months later added college classes to my full-time job AND my motherhood duties. It was hell juggling all three balls but I wouldn't have changed anything and I got my degree, kept my job and my son (and his older sister) survived his mother's busy life.
But back to Palin. I watched the GOP attack my beloved profession of journalism and lay the specter of sexism on it. Interestingly, though, they stood next to their compatriots who proudly wore really sexist campaign buttons proclaiming her sexuality as an attribute to the ticket. "Hot governor from a cool state" and "I'd tap Palin" and "hot hockey mom" are popular items.
As a woman, as a feminist I find it offensive for people to go to such a base level of "appeal" to distract the attention to the quality of the candidate as a potential leader of the free world. How could she even take herself seriously if more people start staring at her ass like McCain did instead of listening to her policy statements? I want her to use her brain power and not her estrogen power to persuade the country's stance on the important issues of the day. It's like I'm back in some junior high school fantasy, being hot for teacher...
Whether the GOP ticket is victorious in November or not, I feel it's shameful to inject sexuality into a political landscape for a job as important as this.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Climbing mountains
The first time I thought about it, it was so scary I pushed it out of my mind.
When the thought returned, I decided to hold it and turn it around like a glowing orb of promise.
Let me back up for a minute: I've often been accused of thinking too deep, of picking stuff apart for deeper meaning to understand its source and my own enlightenment. Still, it drove some people crazy although my family and close friends appreciate me being the one who performs the thought autopsies on the events of the day.
That being said, the original thought was this: Sen. Obama's acceptance speech tonight coincides with another milestone speech given in what could be his future city of residence. But the real connection for me is not that speech, but the speech given the night before Martin Luther King Jr. died. The one where he talked about the mountaintop and looking over into the promised land.
"I may not get there with you," he said. "He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land," he said. "But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."
Is Denver the mountaintop King looked over? Did he see this before any of us could dream of it?
The first time the word "mountaintop" rang in my ear before the convention, it sent a chill through me so I went and read the end of King's speech and there it was, to me a clear foretelling of tonight's momentous occasion.
If I'm right, if I grasped the significance of where we are and what will happen, maybe I feel the same sense of urgency Muhammad Ali felt when he got his wife to pull strings to get him a seat at the convention. This is something not to miss, to be present for not for the pageantry, not for the politics, but for the inhalation of the scent of liberty, of closing your eyes and just being in the moment and where you are at that moment and what it says about the time in which you're living. The life you're living, for that matter, and whether you're deserving of a chance to change your life and step in a new direction on your own mountaintop.
Barack Obama and Martin Luther King and Muhammad Ali all stepped away from the conveyor belt of normalcy and created their own "new way of walking" into their future. When will you begin your new walk, create your new history? I'm plotting my new map now although I don't know where I want to go or where He wants me to be but I know my mountaintop's out there waiting for my conquering flag....
When the thought returned, I decided to hold it and turn it around like a glowing orb of promise.
Let me back up for a minute: I've often been accused of thinking too deep, of picking stuff apart for deeper meaning to understand its source and my own enlightenment. Still, it drove some people crazy although my family and close friends appreciate me being the one who performs the thought autopsies on the events of the day.
That being said, the original thought was this: Sen. Obama's acceptance speech tonight coincides with another milestone speech given in what could be his future city of residence. But the real connection for me is not that speech, but the speech given the night before Martin Luther King Jr. died. The one where he talked about the mountaintop and looking over into the promised land.
"I may not get there with you," he said. "He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land," he said. "But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."
Is Denver the mountaintop King looked over? Did he see this before any of us could dream of it?
The first time the word "mountaintop" rang in my ear before the convention, it sent a chill through me so I went and read the end of King's speech and there it was, to me a clear foretelling of tonight's momentous occasion.
If I'm right, if I grasped the significance of where we are and what will happen, maybe I feel the same sense of urgency Muhammad Ali felt when he got his wife to pull strings to get him a seat at the convention. This is something not to miss, to be present for not for the pageantry, not for the politics, but for the inhalation of the scent of liberty, of closing your eyes and just being in the moment and where you are at that moment and what it says about the time in which you're living. The life you're living, for that matter, and whether you're deserving of a chance to change your life and step in a new direction on your own mountaintop.
Barack Obama and Martin Luther King and Muhammad Ali all stepped away from the conveyor belt of normalcy and created their own "new way of walking" into their future. When will you begin your new walk, create your new history? I'm plotting my new map now although I don't know where I want to go or where He wants me to be but I know my mountaintop's out there waiting for my conquering flag....
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Who am I? Why am I here?
In the middle of a recent job interview, I suddenly felt like the late Adm. James Stockdale. At his only debate as a vice-presidential candidate, he asked the questions above.
While I carefully dissected why I wanted this job and explain the answer in a detached but intellectual manner to my interviewers, it occurred to me that I had lost my way... again.
Feeling 11 years ago that journalism was my true calling, I dove headfirst on the fast track to becoming a prolific writer. You gotta understand, I started this new chapter of my life at the age of 44. From that cloud, I tried to think and negotiate ways of getting to a successful point in my life as quickly as possible because 1) I felt older just looking around my classroom before I graduated in 1992 and 2) the gnawing reminder that my mother worried herself into an early grave at the age of 56. I wanted to use God's gift of writing to reach and change the lives of as many people as I could before my late restart and family history of heart disease caught up with me. So I pushed and I moved to two more states in my quest to live my dream of what I thought becoming a good journalist meant.
When the career rug was pulled from under me last February, I didn't realize that I was chasing the dream so hard I lost parts of me in the process. Eventually, the person I saw in the mirror was the same person who at one time signed her checks "Mrs. Kenneth Rhone" instead of the name my parents gave me. I lost my identity trying to find a new one.
Killer part is I like me. I didn't try to lose who I was to become the person I thought I wanted to be, the person they wanted me to be. I got caught up in personal rejection instead of professional expediency as they told me I wasn't good enough to be who I thought I was.
At one point, I found myself crying in front of a grocery store employment kiosk because I thought I needed to just find a job, any job, to prove my worth. To have somebody say, yes, we want you.
But that's not who I am. I am loved. God loves me, regardless of my skills or my potential. But I stopped loving myself because of the difficulty of rejection in this whole job finding process.
But as I sat across from three smiling people who genuinely seemed interested in me and my life, I had the epiphany that it wasn't their approval I was seeking (except the job. The job is killer and I'd love to wrap myself in it). I needed to find a way to validate myself so I talked about things that mattered to me, how I really saw my potential and my history of helping others and it occurred to me that that's what was missing. I stopped helping other people. I lived for the feeling of seeing myself doing good in the world and you can't give hugs at a pity party.
Service in God's name. I fired myself from that job and the vacancy was still open. I could recapture that spirit of giving of myself, my thoughts, my skills, my empathy, me, and get back to the business of spreading God's love and His message of doing for others again.
Okay, God. I'm back. Ma, your advice was right: there is nobody better than me.
I'm ready to restart the journey now, Lord. To live off the nectar of serving others gave me more pleasure than any cut of prime rib (and I loves me some prime rib) and I want that taste back on the tongue of my spirit.
I'm ready to start smiling again....
While I carefully dissected why I wanted this job and explain the answer in a detached but intellectual manner to my interviewers, it occurred to me that I had lost my way... again.
Feeling 11 years ago that journalism was my true calling, I dove headfirst on the fast track to becoming a prolific writer. You gotta understand, I started this new chapter of my life at the age of 44. From that cloud, I tried to think and negotiate ways of getting to a successful point in my life as quickly as possible because 1) I felt older just looking around my classroom before I graduated in 1992 and 2) the gnawing reminder that my mother worried herself into an early grave at the age of 56. I wanted to use God's gift of writing to reach and change the lives of as many people as I could before my late restart and family history of heart disease caught up with me. So I pushed and I moved to two more states in my quest to live my dream of what I thought becoming a good journalist meant.
When the career rug was pulled from under me last February, I didn't realize that I was chasing the dream so hard I lost parts of me in the process. Eventually, the person I saw in the mirror was the same person who at one time signed her checks "Mrs. Kenneth Rhone" instead of the name my parents gave me. I lost my identity trying to find a new one.
Killer part is I like me. I didn't try to lose who I was to become the person I thought I wanted to be, the person they wanted me to be. I got caught up in personal rejection instead of professional expediency as they told me I wasn't good enough to be who I thought I was.
At one point, I found myself crying in front of a grocery store employment kiosk because I thought I needed to just find a job, any job, to prove my worth. To have somebody say, yes, we want you.
But that's not who I am. I am loved. God loves me, regardless of my skills or my potential. But I stopped loving myself because of the difficulty of rejection in this whole job finding process.
But as I sat across from three smiling people who genuinely seemed interested in me and my life, I had the epiphany that it wasn't their approval I was seeking (except the job. The job is killer and I'd love to wrap myself in it). I needed to find a way to validate myself so I talked about things that mattered to me, how I really saw my potential and my history of helping others and it occurred to me that that's what was missing. I stopped helping other people. I lived for the feeling of seeing myself doing good in the world and you can't give hugs at a pity party.
Service in God's name. I fired myself from that job and the vacancy was still open. I could recapture that spirit of giving of myself, my thoughts, my skills, my empathy, me, and get back to the business of spreading God's love and His message of doing for others again.
Okay, God. I'm back. Ma, your advice was right: there is nobody better than me.
I'm ready to restart the journey now, Lord. To live off the nectar of serving others gave me more pleasure than any cut of prime rib (and I loves me some prime rib) and I want that taste back on the tongue of my spirit.
I'm ready to start smiling again....
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Don't blink
I'm trying not to blink at John McCain's run for the White House because I think I've already missed something. I missed the explanations on how he's a war hero and that he has the experience to lead a country.
War hero? He got shot down and spent years as a captive. He didn't risk his life, didn't save anybody's life. He even admitted in his own book that he was close to suicide because of his personal failures.
Experience? He has no business experience. Never ran a corporation. Did some reaching across the aisle but talking for the sake of talking is not leadership, it's ass kissing.
Now he's acting like the crusty old man down the street that makes fun of the kids and takes their kickball in the house when it comes over his fence.
The edgy old guy or the new black guy: who you gonna invite to the dance?
War hero? He got shot down and spent years as a captive. He didn't risk his life, didn't save anybody's life. He even admitted in his own book that he was close to suicide because of his personal failures.
Experience? He has no business experience. Never ran a corporation. Did some reaching across the aisle but talking for the sake of talking is not leadership, it's ass kissing.
Now he's acting like the crusty old man down the street that makes fun of the kids and takes their kickball in the house when it comes over his fence.
The edgy old guy or the new black guy: who you gonna invite to the dance?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Oh Lord, I don't want to be in that number
...when the unemployed go marching in.
Well, at least now you don't have to suffer the humility of sitting for hours in a cavernous room where an overworked state worker calls out the names of the unfortunate to talk about why you don't have a job yet. You can look for a job and file for unemployment all from the discomforted convenience of your home computer.
For the record, I have not been without a job since my daughter was a toddler and she's now in her 30s. As of next week, it will have been three months since I drew a paycheck.
Today, I find myself in front of my computer daily cybersitting in the world's unemployment office trying to get a gig. Filling out online applications. Trying to write an upbeat, killer cover letter to become at least worthy of an interview. To date, I've only been tapped four times out of the 60-plus apps I've filled out since I stopped signing onto another computer.
I'm usually the one who does the interviewing so it's weird to have to formulate an answer for someone who might rather be back at their desk than talking to your sorry jobless ass.
One day I got three reject letters in mailbox: you suck, you still suck and you must be kidding why the hell did you apply for this job when you know we already had somebody lined up.
But there I am, cheerfully telling this stranger why I am the best person for the job. Lots of smiles, a little wry humor, a lot of earnestness and dedication to doing a phenomenal job doing the do for them. Then there's the form letter last week from a guy whose job I applied for back in May who I guess realized there was one last bug on his desk he didn't thump off: me.
Now comes word from the Dept. of Labor saying there are 366,000 similarly situated people out there who are trying to find work. I raised my hand when they made the announcement on TV this morning. Jesus...
But I don't want to be in that number. My son will tell you how many times I've snapped at him, how many times I've forgotten to keep my cell phone with me. Yesterday, I turned on the coffeemaker with the filter door open and walked away, water flying everywhere until he closed it for me.
They talk about how people go "postal" and start shooting people after they lose their job. Fortunately for the world, I'm too Christian to go out like that but I understand the murder-suicide motivation for people who get their mailbox stuffed with reject letters or worse, dead silence from employers who can't be bothered to drop a reject form letter in the mail to add to the stack of past due notices.
Still, trouble don't last always and I am a faithful woman so I continue to plug away across the Internets sending cheery news of my availability to "match my skills to your requirements for the job."
Still Lord, I don't want to be in that number where you're truly living unemployment paycheck to paycheck....
Well, at least now you don't have to suffer the humility of sitting for hours in a cavernous room where an overworked state worker calls out the names of the unfortunate to talk about why you don't have a job yet. You can look for a job and file for unemployment all from the discomforted convenience of your home computer.
For the record, I have not been without a job since my daughter was a toddler and she's now in her 30s. As of next week, it will have been three months since I drew a paycheck.
Today, I find myself in front of my computer daily cybersitting in the world's unemployment office trying to get a gig. Filling out online applications. Trying to write an upbeat, killer cover letter to become at least worthy of an interview. To date, I've only been tapped four times out of the 60-plus apps I've filled out since I stopped signing onto another computer.
I'm usually the one who does the interviewing so it's weird to have to formulate an answer for someone who might rather be back at their desk than talking to your sorry jobless ass.
One day I got three reject letters in mailbox: you suck, you still suck and you must be kidding why the hell did you apply for this job when you know we already had somebody lined up.
But there I am, cheerfully telling this stranger why I am the best person for the job. Lots of smiles, a little wry humor, a lot of earnestness and dedication to doing a phenomenal job doing the do for them. Then there's the form letter last week from a guy whose job I applied for back in May who I guess realized there was one last bug on his desk he didn't thump off: me.
Now comes word from the Dept. of Labor saying there are 366,000 similarly situated people out there who are trying to find work. I raised my hand when they made the announcement on TV this morning. Jesus...
But I don't want to be in that number. My son will tell you how many times I've snapped at him, how many times I've forgotten to keep my cell phone with me. Yesterday, I turned on the coffeemaker with the filter door open and walked away, water flying everywhere until he closed it for me.
They talk about how people go "postal" and start shooting people after they lose their job. Fortunately for the world, I'm too Christian to go out like that but I understand the murder-suicide motivation for people who get their mailbox stuffed with reject letters or worse, dead silence from employers who can't be bothered to drop a reject form letter in the mail to add to the stack of past due notices.
Still, trouble don't last always and I am a faithful woman so I continue to plug away across the Internets sending cheery news of my availability to "match my skills to your requirements for the job."
Still Lord, I don't want to be in that number where you're truly living unemployment paycheck to paycheck....
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