Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Trump has won me over . . . to Hillary

Hillary, OMG. I have disliked Hillary nearly forever. At least since Bill was running the first time, when I first became aware of her. I've never made a secret of it, but didn't talk about it much until she ran against Obama. 

I find it strange that I am now so committed to voting for her, but even stranger, I find a lot of sympathy for her as Trump tries to bully her, lies about her (even to her face), calls her ugly names and just generally acts like the little boy in the 3rd grade who loved to throw sand in everyone's face.

He's the little rich kid who bragged to everyone about what he had that they didn't, who tore up and threw away the things he had that others would have cherished and cared for, who cheated at games and then bragged about winning so often. I've known people like that, and he just seems to be on a slightly grander scale, but not one whit better, just richer. 

This started out being about Hillary, but now it's about Donald. I have also disliked him since I first became aware of him, and I find that I dislike him more and more the longer I have to listen to him. I even hate the little finger "tics" that he has - all the little waggling, zero-ing, pointing, raising his forefinger, his fingers are everywhere.  They say the Italians speak with their hands; Trump speaks with his tiny little fingers, to help his tiny little mouth, all of which look undersized, probably because the man who regularly calls women pigs and slobs, and other disparagingly things is . . . uh . . . rather large.  I might not think much about his weight and looks if he didn't call women on their weight and looks ALL THE TIME.

https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQC1kEItvD6oe0LQsbUAzzhopzk6TXwesQu_rWi7F5MyL05kqLleQHillary looks wonderful when compared to the great Donald. She looked great last night and left the Donald sniffling - he really needed a tissue (make that a box of tissues). Nothing like repeating over and over that another person has no stamina, sniff, sniff, really, no stamina, sniff, snort, sniff. I'd be sorry to make fun of someone for having a cold or allergies if he hadn't spent so much time ranting about Hillary's health. Serves him right.
Last night she was in control and he was just low-energy. Last night and every day and night, he makes her look so good, I'm beginning to see a paragon of virtue! I remember why I disliked her (the Iraq war, the Patriot Act), but then I listen to the Donald's word salad and invective, weigh it out and there's no doubt in my mind.
And to those people who are going off about how "smug" she looked at the first debate - you are so blinded by your prejudice against her that you can't see it for what it is.  If someone lied about you to your face, made fun of you, insulted you and called you ugly names, would you slap or punch them, have a hissy fit or laugh it off?  Your reaction would say something about you and your character, and I liked what her reaction said about Hillary's character last night.

If you hate what I said and hate Hillary, try to stop and get past the visceral joy you have at getting back at the establishment, and make sure you're not hurting yourself instead of the establishment you hate. I  understand that joy, in a way, but I'm trying to give up self-destructive fun. 

Unfortunately, this reminds me of my son who was failing 4th grade for not doing his assignments. When I went to the school for a meeting with his teacher, we talked and then she took me to his desk to look at what was in the storage space. Lo and behold, there was all his work, done but not turned in.  We were both shocked - this is not what she thought she was going to show me.  When I questioned him, he told me how bad the teacher was, how mean, and how much he disliked her.  He seemed to think he was getting at her (and in a self-defeating way, he was), but all the real harm he was doing was to himself.  She was annoyed, he was failing.

Be careful that your dislike of someone's personality doesn't persuade you to harm not only yourself, but also your country.  Vote your conscience, and if your conscience is telling you the opposite of what mine is telling me, then so be it, just don't sit on your butt and let it happen around you. 

Lastly, if he wins and you have buyer's regret, I'll probably be here to say "I told you so."  I'm not too big a person for it. 

Get out there and vote (and own it if you screw it up)!

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Tea Party Discharges Weapon Into Own Foot

And the weapon was....the Chris McDaniels campaign.

Is is just me, or does last night's squeaker appear to have been tipped just enough to go over the edge by all the loud complaining and railing by the Tea Party camp about "watching" for Democrats crossing over to vote for Cochran, and their threatening (and yes, that was the tone) to send Poll Watchers to cut off any Democrats they could "see"?

From where I sit, it looked a lot like the Tea Party played Pogo and said "We have met the enemy... and he is us". After the massive amounts of money spent by filthy-rich industrialist elitists (most born with that silver spoon in their mouths and intent on keeping it there) and the influx of populist outside rabble-rousers (bankrolled by the above-mentioned filthy rich) like Sarah Palin, Rick Santorum and even the pitiful Chuck Woolery (of long-past Gong Show infamy), they still couldn't pull if off because the face behind the mask began to show through at the end.

Black folks were pretty easy to spot at the polls, and for some reason resented having someone watch for them and threaten to confront them as they tried to vote.  I don't think the significance of this year being the 50th anniversary of Freedom Summer has escaped anyone's attention, except maybe the Tea Party faithful, and there could be a reason for that.  I'll leave you to decide.

Cochran supporters got a little complacent last time, but even the numbers of Thad's supporters who didn't turn out last time were not enough to help him over the TP enthusiasm hump or the he's-too-old-and-too-DC hump, and he made the smart move and called for reinforcements. I wonder if the establishment Republican party has the sense to pay heed and actually invite and welcome minorities into their party (and not just make polite but weak noises in that direction)? Looks like they might have a little gratitude for the people who saved their bacon in the primary, if not the general election (which is still well in the clouds, aka in the air).

Ah, the joys of a Mississippi summer (during election season)!

Update June 26, 2014:  Signs of paying heed from the GOP.  At last, a reasoned and reasonable response.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Stonekettle Station: Absolutely Nothing

Awesome blog, awesome blogger.  Better said than I could have done, with a background of experiences I've never had. the most SOMETHING in a blog entitled "Absolutely Nothing"

I have a simple question, (his version of the same question is better and much more nuanced), but mine is simply - if Brits are all over Tony Blair, why are Americans not all over Bush/Cheney et al? Every bit of the profanity he put in this blog post is well-placed and well-deserved; I probably would have thought some of it and kept it to myself, but I'm glad he didn't.

Stonekettle Station: Absolutely Nothing: Tragically, all we’ve fought for in Iraq, all that 4,500 American lives were shed to gain, is on the cusp, potentially, of vanishing. - Mit...

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Poem Honoring Chokwe Lumumba

“Free the Land Man (For Chokwe Lumumba)”
by C. Liegh McInnis

Just like a river that knows where it’s going,
your feet have kept you like the Wise Men
headed for the North star.
There was no fat cat with pockets full enough.
There was no pot hole deep enough.
There was no curve, bend, or speed bump in the road
to keep you from arriving at your destination.
You are a steamroller grinding angry asphalt into smooth street,
making rough roads ready for revolution to ride to town.
You are the cement foundation upon which we build our freedom house.
You are the forest of fruit from which we may find
nourishment from the fangs of poverty.
You are the fortified fortress that protects us from the vandals of industry.
You are the ocean of hope in which we swim to safety.
A Detroit demolition man destroying the dragons of self-hate so
that self-determination can fertilize the community into a bouquet of spring flowers.

Better than Superman,
you be Free-the-Land Man.
Able to leap skyscrapers of injustice in a single bound
and slam dunk the lies about us through the hoop of truth.
Able to slay slimy Judges with a lightning rod of litigation
Faster than a speeding bullet,
you erased the “t” from can’t, making us a city of can.
And stronger than a locomotive,
you broke through the barriers
that have kept us herded like cattle,
unshackling our dreams from the dungeon of Dixicrats
A liberation lawyer willing to lumberjack the liars
who attempt to lay waste to the lives of rainbow children.
More than a mouthpiece for a moment,
You welded words into stainless steel
to slash the noose of oppression from the wretched of the earth.
Even when bad times became storm clouds blocking the sun,
you were a lighthouse leading people to the land of liberty.
Whether it’s planting proper seeds into your sons
so that they can sprout into life-giving trees,
or being an architect for your daughter
giving her the blueprint of properly engineered manhood,
you are a brick wall that protects all families
from the wolves, thieves, and pimps
that lurk like fungus in the pit of the night.

One of the Chief Captains of the Justice League of Super Negroes—
more amazing than Spiderman, you be Anansi the word weaver
spinning webs to stop the wicked from stampeding our sanity,
more fantastic than the four,
our shining Dark Knight of Democracy
freeing the land from monstrous mercantile Magnetos.
When my mild mannered mayor removed his suit there was
MXG on his chest and instead of a Batsignal
when we needed him we simply shined NAPO in the sky
but the feet-washer that he was kept him Assembled among the People
our own Afro-American Robin Hood
who was more Daring than those Mississippi Devils
Now that your spirit finally became too big for your body,
you are a pulsar that will forever illuminate our path to justice.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Uncensored Eudora Welty

            The Clarion Liar…err…the Clarion Ledger (my bad—old habits die hard.) has printed the uncensored version of Eudora Welty’s “Where Is the Voice Coming From?,” which is Welty’s reaction to the assassination of Medgar Evers, and y’all can read it at the Clarion Ledger.  I’ve been aware of both versions of Welty’s “Where Is the Voice Coming From?” for years.  It’s a good story, but not my favorite by Welty.  My favorite Welty story is “A Worn Path.”  However, “Where Is the Voice Coming From?” excellently captures the rage and neurosis of Byron De La Beckwith, but I have always felt that the story also makes Beckwith’s actions too singular or individual.  So, on the one hand “Where Is the Voice Coming From?” is another example of Welty’s brilliance with language.  (“Why I Live at the PO” is another story that showcases her wonderful use of the vernacular.)  Yet, by focusing so much on Beckwith’s singular or individual rage, Welty seems to pardon institutional racism.  Ultimately, even the title of the story, “Where Is the Voice Coming From?” has an air of what James Baldwin called “selective naiveté” in that it almost completely makes Beckwith’s attack a singular or individual act rather than showing Beckwith’s action as a symbol of the legal and institutionalized racism that gripped Mississippi, the South, and America.  We know that Beckwith’s actions were coordinated, to a degree, with help from information gathered by the White Citizens Council and the Sovereignty Commission and that Beckwith understood, because of the manner that white supremacy permeated every aspect of Mississippi, that there was no jury in 1963 that would convict him.  So while I like the story for Welty’s ability to expose the raw rage and neurosis of Beckwith, especially through her wonderful troping of his language, I’ve always felt that the story also seems to shift the responsibility of the crimes against African Americans from the states and nation to individual loose cannons, which was not the case, unless we agree that the vast majority of white Southerners and white Americans were a collection of loose Jim Crow cannons.  Of course others have countered that Welty is making Beckwith an allegorical figure for the raging flame of Mississippi racism, and while I don’t see/read him being presented entirely that way, I give her credit for being willing to have the conversation in 1963.  And what’s even more ironic or hypocritical is that the New Yorker—the bastion of white liberalism—forced her to change the names of places and people so as not to offend and enflame white southern and white American sensibilities.  Once, again, the truth of white supremacy, even in poetic or fictionalized form, is deemed too radical or too militant to publish.  That’s…just…funny…  If you have never read either version, here is a chance, and feel free to tell me what you think.  Take care.