EastGirlsWest

On the eve of this Super-ist of Super Tuesdays, I know I’m stating the obvious. Like many, I doubted I’d ever have the chance to vote for a viable female or black presidential candidate in my lifetime. And now, both at the same time! It’s freaky Friday, only late Monday night, and this decision is far more stressful and upsetting than I ever could have predicted.

I’m off to the polls in less than 12 hours, and still unclear on which chad to punch. I know I’m not alone here. I’ve asked my sister every day for two weeks who she plans to vote for, and each time she sounds closer to tears born of sheer frustration. “I don’t knowwwwww,” she moans. “What am I going to do?”

Hell if I know.

Countless friends, all of them female, are in the same hand-wringing cycle of hope, pride, fear and guilt that leaves us bouncing back and forth between Clinton and Obama. Many of us are on the verge of junkie behavior when it comes to media consumption and political analysis. We’ve read enough articles in the Times (New York, LA), Slate, Salon, The Atlantic, the Post (Washington, Huffington), The New Yorker and The New Republic to have both candidate platforms memorized in unnatural detail. We can quote speeches and Maureen Dowd columns from memory. We know how to use the information, but we’re cautious about where to place our passion. This isn’t what the media might like to simply label a head vs. heart decision. This is heart vs. heart. And whichever way I vote, I’m worried mine might break.

I’ll let Rebecca Traister articulate the internal struggle of my left and right ventricles, because she really nailed it today. Beyond experience and inspiration and the looming legacy of Bill, there is a sense of duty and loyalty for Hillary that is difficult to reconcile with my very practical belief that the other candidate has a better chance of winning the general election. And my desire for a Democrat, ANY Democrat, to win this election is not practical. It is a desperate and true emotional need. I couldn’t bear to see McCain win because me and my fellow Californians picked the wrong opponent.

So when the other candidate also happens to be brilliant, inspirational to a new generation of voters, a poster boy for the new American experience, anti-war, a great orator and a savvy politician who has the chance to begin healing generations of racial discord in this country, what’s a liberal voter with an X chromosome to do?

Then there is my mother. And by my mother, I mean my mother and a generation of women who came of age in the sixties, fought for equal rights for their gender, endured blatant sexism in the workplace, raised politically engaged daughters and got us all excited about Geraldine Ferraro when we were still in elementary school. This was, and IS my mother. Her car always had bumper stickers that said “ERA Yes” and “Keep Abortion Legal”. She has sat in job interviews and been told, “Well, if you were a man I would hire you.” She’s been a single parent, the primary breadwinner, and by far my greatest political influence. You might not be surprised to hear she’s voting for Hillary.

And how could she not? Everything in her life has led to her clear choice. I get it. I’m grateful that she and her peers fought the battles that made my job interviews easier, and held to legal standards that protect my privacy and rights. I have my own woman-to-woman reasons for a Hillary vote, but they can’t begin to reach the roots of hers.

This morning I told her I was voting for Obama. And she told me that she’ll be (metaphorically, of course) bringing her mother and grandmother in to the voting booth with her tomorrow. Although it wasn’t her intent, a punch in the gut would have hurt less. There’s no treat in knowing that the cherry on top of my indecision sundae is letting down four generations of women. And really, I was feeling that pressure even before she weighed in. As Rebecca eloquently says:

What if I have a daughter someday and she asks me about why we’ve never had a woman president? Do I tell her that we once came close, but that Mommy was really digging Obama that day?

Thing is, I AM feeling Obama. Not without regret or reservation. And not with any huge margin. But right now, at 11:06pm on Monday night, I have a little more faith in his ability to land in the Oval Office. But I inevitably waffle, especially when I hear another man make a sexist comment about a woman who is crazy qualified to run this country. And then I think, I need to vote for her! Then I’m back in the cycle.

Sigh.

This evening on my way home from work, right before I got on the freeway, I drove by a dozen twenty-year-olds. They were pumping Obama signs in the air, grinning and jumping with the thrill of being hours away from their first legal vote. Begging each car to honk in response, their joy and hope was the perfect bookend to my morning Hillary conversation with my mother. I carried a drop of their optimism with me on the drive home.

Time for bed now. Looks like I’ll finally decide at 8:30am tomorrow when the curtain closes behind me - and I’m quite certain I won’t be alone.

Below, an excerpt from a letter my neighbor recently wrote to the City of San Diego, department of Code Compliance. The house he’s writing about sits between us and him. A former one-story, three bedroom built in modest ranch-style, it now resembles an apartment complex, surrounded by asphalt, inhabited by college students.

By chance I was home when an inspector parked in front of my house. He apparently came to inspect the next door, eight individually leased bedroom, eight mailbox, 12 trash can, non-owner occupied, two kitchen, “single family” home mini-dorm at XXXX Dorothy Drive.

I overheard the inspector tell the owner that the property did not “really” pass inspection but that he would sign off on it anyway. The inspector also said he hoped that Code Compliance would not come back, and if so it would have to be dealt with then.

The owner of the mini-dorm stood in my front yard waving two thumbs up and danced a jig while the inspector sat in his car making this statement.

Of course, if you haven’t met the loser asshat who owns said property, then the image of him dancing a jig with thumbs up might not have the same effect on you that it does on me. Right now, that image makes me want to commit an act of violence.

City of San Diego Code Compliance: why the hate for the homeowners and love for the landlords? Why the lies and corruption? Do you just have a soft spot for garages converted to bedrooms, lawns paved into parking lots, and beer cans lying in a weed filled front yard? Are you swayed by the siren song of a hundred drunk sorority girls screaming, “I’m SO drunk!”?

So, am I the last one on earth to learn that soon-to-be Republican presidential candidate Fred Thompson has a MUCH younger wife?

Personally, I’m not sure how I feel about it, or if I feel anything about it at all. But the witty and charming Joe Scarborough has already compared her to a stripper, and the blog and media chatter is heating up. I plan to pay attention to the conversation on this. I know the situation certainly inspires my own tendency to call out ‘trophy wife’, and it seems that coverage of her role in his campaign has the potential to be either straight-up sexist (thanks, Joe) or thoughtful analysis on Republican ‘values’ and voter peceptions on family and marriage.

One thing is clear: with several Republican presidential candidates paired up with potential first ladies who are NOT in the first wives club, and one of our main Democratic candidates toting around a possible White House-husband, things are a bit more unconventional this time around.

From today’s New York Times:

The Supreme Court upheld the nationwide ban on a controversial abortion procedure Wednesday, handing abortion opponents the long-awaited victory they expected from a more conservative bench.

So, all you Ralph Nader voters out there: still glad you voted for him in 2000? Still think there’s “no difference” between Bush and Gore? Because I’m thinking maybe, just maybe, our friend Al might not have appointed two right-wing nut jobs to the Supreme Court.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s now perfectly clear that we can no longer take our reproductive rights for granted.

Her departure from the city of Chula Vista sounds like a pretty sweet deal. And it does seem as if Laurie Madigan and her husband have a history of borderline professional ethics issues. But despite all that, I do have some sympathy for the woman.

Madigan is a (now former) assistant city manager of Chula Vista. Her recent sick leave and resignation have been well chronicled by The San Diego Union-Tribune over the past week. Why? Well, turns out that in addition to a golden parachute, Madigan also had an extremely generous sick leave policy while still employed. She began an extended sick leave in early February, but since then has continued to teach one class at UCSD in partnership with her husband.

Madigan was able to take her sick leave with full pay, you see. And the UT is cheesed off that she was “double dipping” and earning money from her teaching job while taking advantage of a boffo benefits plan with the city. This was all reported before Madigan revealed exactly what precipitated her sick leave. She has since confirmed that she has rheumatoid arthritis.

As someone with RA, I can definitely support the idea that there is a HUGE difference between working a stressful, full-time job and co-teaching a class once a week.

When I was first diagnosed, I worked at home, part-time, which was all I could handle. Luckily, I was (and remain) in a stable financial situation, with an employed partner and enough breathing room in our budget to allow me to take it a bit easier than usual for a couple of months. Unable to remain in any seated position for more than ten minutes, in chronic pain, and frankly rather depressed - going into an office five days a week would have killed me.

I can definitely sympathize with the idea that Madigan may have found going into an office every day, to throw herself into what sounds like a fast-paced and stressful job, to be detrimental to her health during an arthritic flare up. But leaving the house for three hours once a week to co-teach a class with a supportive partner? Come on. Let’s assume that teaching this class is something she enjoys. That sharing her knowledge with eager, smart students is a relaxing and rewarding break from the Blackberry wielding bureaucrats she’s dealing with on a daily basis. Oh, and the pay for teaching this class? $1,447.00 - compared to her city salary of $184,000.00. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that she’s not doing it for the money.

I think the UT was too zealous in covering kind of a non-story. The real story here? Someone in this country (and one could assume, her coworkers) has a kick ass sick leave plan! And probably good health insurance! Must be one of those “gold plated” health plans Bush keeps referring to. To be fair, this might be expected due to her income bracket and lifestyle. But the way health care and worker benefits are headed these days, I don’t think that’s safe to assume anymore.

Message to the UT: how about more stories on the prevalence of auto-immune diseases and the growing legions of the uninsured. Want something to investigate? Look into why my HMO makes it nearly impossible for one to receive actual health care. Now that’s a story.

UPDATE: Kelly Davis at CityBeat has also weighed in - read here.

Reverend Ted Haggard, the disgraced Evangelical minister who was outed by a male prostitute, has been pronunced “completely hetereosexual” after a few weeks of intensive counseling.

Kind of like how I don’t eat sugar anymore, except for every chance I get.

Molly Ivins has died.

So sad. Such a great writer and an inspiring woman.

I can’t remember how I was first exposed to Molly Ivins, but I’m guessing it was through my mother. Was Ivins syndicated back in the 80’s? Maybe it was her first book. I don’t know exactly when I first became aware of her, or started reading her, but I was probably a teenager. A teenager being raised by a politically vocal mother who drove around with an “ERA Yes” bumper sticker on her car in the late 70s and early 80s. A teenager forming her own liberal views. Ivins writing was perfect narration to the way I was beginning to see the social climate and our political leadership. And a fearless female voice that I would quickly learn was a rare find in mainstream media.

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. - Molly Ivins

I’m dreaming about the phrase “Speaker Pelosi”.

Tragically, am spending the day on a plane, and will not have access to the news until midnight, EST.

Fingers crossed!

On Huffington Post today, P. Diddy on George Bush:

It’s like my man ain’t got no marbles up there…Ain’t nobody feelin’ this war.

(thanks to Angela for pointing this out)

While there are many, many things going on in the current administration that qualify as “obscene” in my book (let’s start with the war in Iraq, and go from there), my wrath has been focused lately on the FCC, who seems to want to be everyone’s Mommy and Daddy. They will protect our innocent ears and eyes from anything resembling a profane word or exposed flesh! Soldiers at war shall say “heck”. Blues musicians are not an “appropriate artistic context” for swear words. And there will be no glimpses of nudity, which as well all know leads to sex, which is very, very dirty and wrong.

Have you noticed that even John Stewart is being bleeped on the air now? What the fuck is going on???

Violence, however, is fine with the FCC. Bring it on - the more graphic the better. Beat someone’s skull in, remove limbs with a blunt object while wading in a pool of blood, set fire to the corpse and bomb the shit out of the building where it all took place. Shoot a couple of bad guys at point blank range with an automatic weapon on your way out the door and put it all in prime time. Now THAT’S family viewing.

I mean, there’s just a teensy, weensy bit of hypocrisy in all this. Plus unknowable rules that remain a moving target. And some frighteningly emboldened media “watchdog” groups.

Now that I’ve used both the “F-word” and the “S-word” in this post, I may as well go for broke and share this video. It was sent to me by a fellow public broadcasting colleague.

Enjoy!