"But was it organic ketchup?"
That was the straw that broke the camel's back for me as far as diet was concerned.
I'd been visiting an alternative medical clinic, trying to get help for adrenal fatigue. While I got better for a time, the place ended up loading me up with supplements (I was taking TWENTY-TWO different supplements at one point) and insisting that I eat organic food. I was told I needed to eat berries for breakfast, and not just any berries--specifically, blueberries and blackberries (strawberries didn't count.) I needed to eat more protein (not bad advice) and go low-carb--and was also told at one point to go "no-carb", which turned out to be impossible. The point the doc was trying to make about the organic ketchup was the amount of sugar in the ketchup.
The diet advice was good, as far as it went. But that was not the first time I'd been told to "go organic". When I said to the person that I couldn't afford it, I was told, "Well, it's better for you in the long run." No mention was made of how much it cost.
I'm dealing with a lot of stress right now. It seems like there is still so much on my plate and I have no idea what I can take off of it:
1. Today I see my TMJ dentist, and I still have a dislocating right jaw. I can pop it back into place, but it shouldn't be dislocating in the first place. The appointment will cost $85. Insurance won't cover it.
2. I am still dealing with the adrenal fatigue, and treatments are expensive and not covered by insurance, for the most part. Currently, I'm not seeing a doctor for it; I'm trying to rest as much as possible when I get overtired.
3. I use a CPAP for sleep apnea.
4. I am obese. I need to lose weight. I've been trying to go swim lately--I had been walking, but it caused pain in my feet. Swimming is good, but if I push myself too hard, I run the risk of getting overtired, which makes me unable to exercise, which doesn't help my weight . . .
5. My blood sugar does need to be controlled. See #4.
6. I have back pain. Friday I go back to the chiropractor--again, which isn't covered by insurance.
7. My mother, who lives in another state, is dealing with her own health issues.
8. I have a child with autism. We've just filed papers for guardianship.
9. I am dealing with all of my past issues from being part of an unhealthy church. We also have issues we are dealing with in our present church (not bad issues, just changes we have gone through and other changes that will happen soon, mainly with our small groups.)
10. I also deal with past issues from being bullied.
11. I need to finish my Christmas decorating. (My husband took stuff UPSTAIRS in order to vacuum the rugs. Now I have to bring it back DOWNSTAIRS.)
12. I have writing I want to do and it seems like there are so many projects I will never be able to finish:
--Seven books involving four friends and their families
--Four books revolving around the life of a teenage track runner
--Two books loosely based on my dad's life
--One dealing with a teenager in an abusive church
--One dealing with a woman's relationship with her gay neighbors
--One dealing with a possible Muslim takeover of the US.
--One dealing with a French girl who loses family in WWII, moves to Atlanta and gets involved in the civil rights movement.
--A collection of essays about people we don't normally think about when we think of Black History Month.
--A study on I Corinthians 13:4-8 and I John 4:18.
--A collection of blog entries. I just need to format them and put a cover on them . . . and I am having a horrible time designing a cover!!!
13. I HAVE to earn money to pay back some serious debt we owe from court reporting school, and we also owe credit card debt. My husband is working as much overtime as he can as well.
14. There are current events that are going to affect us, whether I pay attention to them or not.
This morning I feel tense, pressured, and stressed. Organic ketchup is the last thing I need to be concerned about!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Statcounter
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
"Air raid, Pearl Harbor - this is no drill."
I have no idea exactly where my parents were or what they were doing on December 7th, 1941, 75 years ago today.
My father was nine years old and living in Harlan County, Kentucky; in the unincorporated area of Rosspoint. Thirty-seven days earlier, he'd lost his father when a train hit the car his father was riding in.
My mother was eleven days short of her fourth birthday.
My guess is that, around 2:30 or so that Sunday afternoon, after a morning spent at church and after having their tummies filled with Sunday dinner, they were sitting around the house listening to the radio. Maybe my grandmother or my Granny Mary was cleaning up after Sunday dinner. It's possible the kids were playing, or maybe fighting with each other.
Whatever they were doing, they were probably several of the millions of Americans who, at 2:30 p.m., heard John Charles Daly report that Pearl Harbor had been attacked by the Japanese. (A history of the first radio bulletins can be found here.)
What happened next?
Probably, my parents and grandparents would have stopped what they were doing, frozen in shock. Then, they ran to the radio and listened. They tried to absorb the words, "Japanese," "bombing," "Hawaii," "Pearl Harbor," and that final word, "war."
There was no such thing as "breaking news" in 1941. CNN and Fox didn't exist. (Some people might think, "Thank goodness.") Rather, information came piecemeal, bit by bit, bulletin by bulletin.
Some things don't change. When 9/11 happened, information also trickled in bit by bit. Rumors flew. (I remember hearing that a car bomb had been found in front of the State Department.) What rumors would have flown in the hours and days following Pearl Harbor?
If my parents and grandparents were like I often am when "breaking news" happens, they were probably glued to the radio, wondering what was going to happen next. Would the Japanese start bombing Los Angeles next? Seattle? San Francisco?
Four years of war followed, four years of rationing, four years of being told to sacrifice "for the boys", "for the troops". If you listen to shows such as Fibber McGee and Molly, The Great Gildersleeve, and Jack Benny, you'll hear exhortations to save your rubber and paper, turn your fat into the butcher, make your cars and other appliances last, because new ones will not be made until after the war.
Seventy-five years later, what would we Americans do if we were hit in the same way that we were hit in 1941?
We were hit in a similar way on 9/11; in fact, 9/11 is often referred to as this generation's Pearl Harbor. Most of us remember exactly where we were when we heard that two planes had hit the World Trade Center.
We saw an upsurge in patriotism for a time . . . and then, we went back to attacking those in charge, those in power, questioning decisions, and fighting amongst ourselves.
In 1942, Americans sacrificed. They put up with no new cars, sugar rationing, and saying good-bye to fathers, brothers, and sons.
In 2016? I don't know if we'd be willing to make the same sacrifices that Americans were in the 1940's. Too many years of being exposed to news has left me cynical. I fear that, if Americans were told that manufacturing plants would be devoted to making war supplies, or that certain foods and other supplies would be rationed, a howl of protest would go up around the country, like spoiled children being denied a favorite toy.
On the other hand, I could be wrong. Thousands of Americans sacrifice, year after year, when they give their lives to the United States armed forces and leave their families behind. Their families sacrifice, learning how to get along without that loved one.
Forty-five days from now, we'll be inaugurating a new President. I pray to God that he will not have to hear anything like, "Air raid, Pearl Harbor - this is no drill."
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
My father was nine years old and living in Harlan County, Kentucky; in the unincorporated area of Rosspoint. Thirty-seven days earlier, he'd lost his father when a train hit the car his father was riding in.
My mother was eleven days short of her fourth birthday.
My guess is that, around 2:30 or so that Sunday afternoon, after a morning spent at church and after having their tummies filled with Sunday dinner, they were sitting around the house listening to the radio. Maybe my grandmother or my Granny Mary was cleaning up after Sunday dinner. It's possible the kids were playing, or maybe fighting with each other.
Whatever they were doing, they were probably several of the millions of Americans who, at 2:30 p.m., heard John Charles Daly report that Pearl Harbor had been attacked by the Japanese. (A history of the first radio bulletins can be found here.)
What happened next?
Probably, my parents and grandparents would have stopped what they were doing, frozen in shock. Then, they ran to the radio and listened. They tried to absorb the words, "Japanese," "bombing," "Hawaii," "Pearl Harbor," and that final word, "war."
There was no such thing as "breaking news" in 1941. CNN and Fox didn't exist. (Some people might think, "Thank goodness.") Rather, information came piecemeal, bit by bit, bulletin by bulletin.
Some things don't change. When 9/11 happened, information also trickled in bit by bit. Rumors flew. (I remember hearing that a car bomb had been found in front of the State Department.) What rumors would have flown in the hours and days following Pearl Harbor?
If my parents and grandparents were like I often am when "breaking news" happens, they were probably glued to the radio, wondering what was going to happen next. Would the Japanese start bombing Los Angeles next? Seattle? San Francisco?
Four years of war followed, four years of rationing, four years of being told to sacrifice "for the boys", "for the troops". If you listen to shows such as Fibber McGee and Molly, The Great Gildersleeve, and Jack Benny, you'll hear exhortations to save your rubber and paper, turn your fat into the butcher, make your cars and other appliances last, because new ones will not be made until after the war.
Seventy-five years later, what would we Americans do if we were hit in the same way that we were hit in 1941?
We were hit in a similar way on 9/11; in fact, 9/11 is often referred to as this generation's Pearl Harbor. Most of us remember exactly where we were when we heard that two planes had hit the World Trade Center.
We saw an upsurge in patriotism for a time . . . and then, we went back to attacking those in charge, those in power, questioning decisions, and fighting amongst ourselves.
In 1942, Americans sacrificed. They put up with no new cars, sugar rationing, and saying good-bye to fathers, brothers, and sons.
In 2016? I don't know if we'd be willing to make the same sacrifices that Americans were in the 1940's. Too many years of being exposed to news has left me cynical. I fear that, if Americans were told that manufacturing plants would be devoted to making war supplies, or that certain foods and other supplies would be rationed, a howl of protest would go up around the country, like spoiled children being denied a favorite toy.
On the other hand, I could be wrong. Thousands of Americans sacrifice, year after year, when they give their lives to the United States armed forces and leave their families behind. Their families sacrifice, learning how to get along without that loved one.
Forty-five days from now, we'll be inaugurating a new President. I pray to God that he will not have to hear anything like, "Air raid, Pearl Harbor - this is no drill."
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Hey, Siri! . . . uh, never mind . . .
Matthew was asking me just now about the promo music to the Chicago franchise (Chicago Med, Chicago Fire, Chicago PD, and soon to be Chicago Justice).
I said, it all depended on which Chicago series you were talking about as to whether or not I knew the promo music.
I was sitting right next to my iPad when I said it.
Suddenly, Siri pipes up with: "Okay, here's the current weather in Chicago!"
Matthew immediately said, "No, no, no, no!" while I was too busy laughing!
Moral: Either turn off your iPad when you're talking to your son. Or be careful what you say.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I said, it all depended on which Chicago series you were talking about as to whether or not I knew the promo music.
I was sitting right next to my iPad when I said it.
Suddenly, Siri pipes up with: "Okay, here's the current weather in Chicago!"
Matthew immediately said, "No, no, no, no!" while I was too busy laughing!
Moral: Either turn off your iPad when you're talking to your son. Or be careful what you say.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Dear T . . .
The other night, I dreamt of you.
In my dream, you came to my church, and I was happy to see you. Then you told me that you were going to marry the woman who played Jan Brady in the Brady Bunch. (I'm sure the Brady Bunch reference came about because Florence Henderson just died. Now, why you were going to marry the person who played Jan Brady, that's another question . . .)
I congratulated you, because I was happy for you.
And then, to other people, I started wondering aloud, was I not "spiritual" enough to have a boyfriend?
You were the third boy, and the first Christian man, to kiss me. I was 19, and I think you may have been 20. We stood at the doorway of the dormitory I lived in at the time, and we were saying good night after a wonderful, romantic date. I feasted on the memory of that kiss for months. That summer, I sat in an English literature class about Shakespeare, and I daydreamt about that kiss, about how it felt on my lips. It was light and sweet, just like a first kiss between two people should be.
And then, that October, after an FSU football game uncharacteristically held on a Thursday, you told me that you weren't sure if I was "the one" and decided to stop taking me out.
I respected that decision. Because it was more than I got from my high school boyfriend, who broke up with me and never bothered to tell me that the relationship was over.
A year later, you left the church we both attended. The last time I saw you was in the checkout line of a Publix, where you said hi to me, and I didn't respond. I think I just smiled. I've regretted that many, many times.
I know now that a relationship between us may not have worked out. I wouldn't have been a good girlfriend, nor would I have made a good wife. I didn't have the maturity to understand that a relationship between a man and a woman required a certain give-and-take, that I was called on to be a partner and a helper, not just a taker.
One other reason that a relationship between us would not have ultimately worked out is because the entire environment we were in was so rigid, unhealthy, and fake. Dating relationships were forced and stilted in so many cases, with rules and regulations about how long you could talk, how much time you were allowed to spend together, and when you could go out on single dates. Could we have had a healthy relationship? A healthy marriage? A healthy family? The only honest answer I can give, I don't know. Knowing who I was at the time, my gut reaction is to say, "No."
I'm married now. I've been married for 23 years to a wonderful man who's an intellectual, who strives hard to be a good husband and a good father to our son. Our son is a teenager with autism. My husband has stepped up to the plate and been an involved father with him. That can't be said about all fathers.
Ironically, I ended up living in the same city you called home, and I attended the same church that you did when you visited home. I wondered at times if we'd run into each other. We never did. I have no idea if you were living there when I did, and I know you did not attend the same church I did. And in another piece of irony, the man I married attended that same church. Perhaps you talked to each other and didn't know it.
There are two questions, though, that I've never had answers to:
1. Did you make the decision to stop dating me on your own, or were you told to stop dating me because I was somehow "not spiritual enough"?
2. What happened that caused you to leave the church?
I've wondered about these two things, because I know that in the church we were part of, things went on behind the scenes that we were never told about but that affected us. People left, and since we were "encouraged" not to associate with them, and we were often given the "spin" version as to why they left, we probably never had the whole story as to why they left. The onus was put on the person that left. We never stopped to think that there might have been a problem with the church, or with the structure that we were part of.
I've wanted closure on those two questions for a very long time. But I also ask myself: Just because I desire closure, does that mean I need it? Suppose the "closure" I want just leads to more questions than answers? Or suppose it gives me answers that I wish I did not know?
You were not the only one who left the church we attended, or who left the group of churches we were part of. I know of a long list of people who did exactly that. Some of them went to other churches, and some of them simply left God. Given my experiences in religion, I'm surprised that I still have any faith left. I still struggle with many aspects of faith in God and in Christ, I ask myself questions that often have no answers, and I get angry at God during many difficult circumstances.
But as I've been writing this, I've been listening to a series of Christian songs on my Spotify playlist, one of them being Building 429's "Impossible" and another one being "He Reigns" by the Newsboys. I still believe.
I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend to you. I'm sorry I didn't try to come alongside you when you must have been struggling. I have prayed for you often in the years since you left church and school. I hope you have found faith again. If you're married, I've prayed for you to be faithful to your spouse. If you have children, I've hoped you've been a good father to them. If for some reason you're divorced, I hope you have treated your ex-spouse and any children decently.
And, if by any chance you are no longer alive, I pray that God will have mercy on you. We know that God is a just God, and that he is a merciful God. James 2:13 says that "mercy triumphs over judgment". I believe God's mercy will triumph.
May God bless and care for you, T.
Tina
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
In my dream, you came to my church, and I was happy to see you. Then you told me that you were going to marry the woman who played Jan Brady in the Brady Bunch. (I'm sure the Brady Bunch reference came about because Florence Henderson just died. Now, why you were going to marry the person who played Jan Brady, that's another question . . .)
I congratulated you, because I was happy for you.
And then, to other people, I started wondering aloud, was I not "spiritual" enough to have a boyfriend?
You were the third boy, and the first Christian man, to kiss me. I was 19, and I think you may have been 20. We stood at the doorway of the dormitory I lived in at the time, and we were saying good night after a wonderful, romantic date. I feasted on the memory of that kiss for months. That summer, I sat in an English literature class about Shakespeare, and I daydreamt about that kiss, about how it felt on my lips. It was light and sweet, just like a first kiss between two people should be.
And then, that October, after an FSU football game uncharacteristically held on a Thursday, you told me that you weren't sure if I was "the one" and decided to stop taking me out.
I respected that decision. Because it was more than I got from my high school boyfriend, who broke up with me and never bothered to tell me that the relationship was over.
A year later, you left the church we both attended. The last time I saw you was in the checkout line of a Publix, where you said hi to me, and I didn't respond. I think I just smiled. I've regretted that many, many times.
I know now that a relationship between us may not have worked out. I wouldn't have been a good girlfriend, nor would I have made a good wife. I didn't have the maturity to understand that a relationship between a man and a woman required a certain give-and-take, that I was called on to be a partner and a helper, not just a taker.
One other reason that a relationship between us would not have ultimately worked out is because the entire environment we were in was so rigid, unhealthy, and fake. Dating relationships were forced and stilted in so many cases, with rules and regulations about how long you could talk, how much time you were allowed to spend together, and when you could go out on single dates. Could we have had a healthy relationship? A healthy marriage? A healthy family? The only honest answer I can give, I don't know. Knowing who I was at the time, my gut reaction is to say, "No."
I'm married now. I've been married for 23 years to a wonderful man who's an intellectual, who strives hard to be a good husband and a good father to our son. Our son is a teenager with autism. My husband has stepped up to the plate and been an involved father with him. That can't be said about all fathers.
Ironically, I ended up living in the same city you called home, and I attended the same church that you did when you visited home. I wondered at times if we'd run into each other. We never did. I have no idea if you were living there when I did, and I know you did not attend the same church I did. And in another piece of irony, the man I married attended that same church. Perhaps you talked to each other and didn't know it.
There are two questions, though, that I've never had answers to:
1. Did you make the decision to stop dating me on your own, or were you told to stop dating me because I was somehow "not spiritual enough"?
2. What happened that caused you to leave the church?
I've wondered about these two things, because I know that in the church we were part of, things went on behind the scenes that we were never told about but that affected us. People left, and since we were "encouraged" not to associate with them, and we were often given the "spin" version as to why they left, we probably never had the whole story as to why they left. The onus was put on the person that left. We never stopped to think that there might have been a problem with the church, or with the structure that we were part of.
I've wanted closure on those two questions for a very long time. But I also ask myself: Just because I desire closure, does that mean I need it? Suppose the "closure" I want just leads to more questions than answers? Or suppose it gives me answers that I wish I did not know?
You were not the only one who left the church we attended, or who left the group of churches we were part of. I know of a long list of people who did exactly that. Some of them went to other churches, and some of them simply left God. Given my experiences in religion, I'm surprised that I still have any faith left. I still struggle with many aspects of faith in God and in Christ, I ask myself questions that often have no answers, and I get angry at God during many difficult circumstances.
But as I've been writing this, I've been listening to a series of Christian songs on my Spotify playlist, one of them being Building 429's "Impossible" and another one being "He Reigns" by the Newsboys. I still believe.
I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend to you. I'm sorry I didn't try to come alongside you when you must have been struggling. I have prayed for you often in the years since you left church and school. I hope you have found faith again. If you're married, I've prayed for you to be faithful to your spouse. If you have children, I've hoped you've been a good father to them. If for some reason you're divorced, I hope you have treated your ex-spouse and any children decently.
And, if by any chance you are no longer alive, I pray that God will have mercy on you. We know that God is a just God, and that he is a merciful God. James 2:13 says that "mercy triumphs over judgment". I believe God's mercy will triumph.
May God bless and care for you, T.
Tina
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
In the aftermath, what now?
In the aftermath of this election, I don't know what to say or what to do.
I fear that no matter what I say or what I do, I am going to offend someone.
If I point out one side, I will get hammered by the other side.
If I stay silent, I will be accused of complicity.
Right now, I am just drained dry.
For a week, I've had very little to give to anyone.
I do not want to hate or be hateful, but I fear that I will be labeled as a "hater" no matter what I say or what I do.
I don't know what to do in this aftermath of the most contentious Presidential election in my lifetime, and the most stunning upset since "Dewey Defeats Truman". People are angry, and people are afraid. And nothing anyone says or does seems to calm this fear or this anger.
A Facebook friend said that she didn't think we'd ever heal, and I worry that she's right.
And while I hope I'm wrong, I fear a mass civil disturbance is on its way. I fear an attack on the President-elect and/or on our country. I'm not holed up in the house--I won't do that--but I don't think I'm being paranoid by saying that this is what I'm afraid of.
Mentally, I think I was more prepared for a Clinton presidency than a Trump presidency. Now, my brain is trying to make the shift and it's not doing very well.
My writing is nil at this point. The story I have been working on, I don't have the gumption to write on right now. My poor best friend, also a writer, has similar feelings; and she carries a burden that I do not. She's a caregiver to an elderly relative, and that presents its own challenges.
We are both drained dry.
So, in the aftermath of this election, and in this transition from Obama to Trump, what now?
I don't know.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I fear that no matter what I say or what I do, I am going to offend someone.
If I point out one side, I will get hammered by the other side.
If I stay silent, I will be accused of complicity.
Right now, I am just drained dry.
For a week, I've had very little to give to anyone.
I do not want to hate or be hateful, but I fear that I will be labeled as a "hater" no matter what I say or what I do.
I don't know what to do in this aftermath of the most contentious Presidential election in my lifetime, and the most stunning upset since "Dewey Defeats Truman". People are angry, and people are afraid. And nothing anyone says or does seems to calm this fear or this anger.
A Facebook friend said that she didn't think we'd ever heal, and I worry that she's right.
And while I hope I'm wrong, I fear a mass civil disturbance is on its way. I fear an attack on the President-elect and/or on our country. I'm not holed up in the house--I won't do that--but I don't think I'm being paranoid by saying that this is what I'm afraid of.
Mentally, I think I was more prepared for a Clinton presidency than a Trump presidency. Now, my brain is trying to make the shift and it's not doing very well.
My writing is nil at this point. The story I have been working on, I don't have the gumption to write on right now. My poor best friend, also a writer, has similar feelings; and she carries a burden that I do not. She's a caregiver to an elderly relative, and that presents its own challenges.
We are both drained dry.
So, in the aftermath of this election, and in this transition from Obama to Trump, what now?
I don't know.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Plot twists, primal screams, and Dewey Defeats Truman
For months, I have been waiting for the last, final plot twist in this unbelievable election season.
I thought the final plot twist was the "locker room" conversation between Donald Trump and Billy Bush where Trump said vile, disgusting things about how he could (and may have) treated women.
Then I thought the final plot twist was the FBI reopening the investigation into Hillary Clinton's emails.
But never, never, never, in my thoughts about this election did I think that I was going to write the words I am about to write:
President-elect Donald J. Trump.
Apparently that was the plot twist that I should have been waiting for.
I stayed off of Facebook on Election Day. Perhaps I should also have stayed off of it today.
Already, people are venting their anger, fear, and frustration. From the way some people are posting, we're either going to be living in the country of Panem (from The Hunger Games) or the Republic of Gilead (from Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale.)
I don't blame people for being concerned. And I will not say that people shouldn't be angry or feel angry. I didn't like it when people told me that "God is in control" when an election didn't turn out the way I wanted it, so I am not going to say to anyone now.
Last night, a political pundit on CNN describe the election results as a "primal scream" of the American electorate. There may be more truth than he realizes. People are angry, frustrated, and fed up. People are tired of what they perceive to be an unresponsive government and a government that does not seem to listen to the electorate.
So, when an "outsider" came along who expertly tapped into the anger and frustration that many people feel -- and expertly exploited that same anger -- people turned to him.
Right now, I don't really have the energy to empathize. I have empathy fatigue. I'm sure that some rest and a resetting of the brain after this long, tumultuous election season will take away that empathy fatigue.
But I think I can predict that, when Donald Trump actually does get into the White House, and he is unable/unwilling to do what he promised he would do, the same people who were so enthusiastic about putting him in the White House are going to be the same people that will feel betrayed, and they will be the same people who will start screaming about getting him OUT of the White House in four years.
In the meantime, I'm going to sit back and listen to the so-called experts try and dissect the events of this generation's version of Dewey Defeats Truman.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I thought the final plot twist was the "locker room" conversation between Donald Trump and Billy Bush where Trump said vile, disgusting things about how he could (and may have) treated women.
Then I thought the final plot twist was the FBI reopening the investigation into Hillary Clinton's emails.
But never, never, never, in my thoughts about this election did I think that I was going to write the words I am about to write:
President-elect Donald J. Trump.
Apparently that was the plot twist that I should have been waiting for.
I stayed off of Facebook on Election Day. Perhaps I should also have stayed off of it today.
Already, people are venting their anger, fear, and frustration. From the way some people are posting, we're either going to be living in the country of Panem (from The Hunger Games) or the Republic of Gilead (from Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale.)
I don't blame people for being concerned. And I will not say that people shouldn't be angry or feel angry. I didn't like it when people told me that "God is in control" when an election didn't turn out the way I wanted it, so I am not going to say to anyone now.
Last night, a political pundit on CNN describe the election results as a "primal scream" of the American electorate. There may be more truth than he realizes. People are angry, frustrated, and fed up. People are tired of what they perceive to be an unresponsive government and a government that does not seem to listen to the electorate.
So, when an "outsider" came along who expertly tapped into the anger and frustration that many people feel -- and expertly exploited that same anger -- people turned to him.
Right now, I don't really have the energy to empathize. I have empathy fatigue. I'm sure that some rest and a resetting of the brain after this long, tumultuous election season will take away that empathy fatigue.
But I think I can predict that, when Donald Trump actually does get into the White House, and he is unable/unwilling to do what he promised he would do, the same people who were so enthusiastic about putting him in the White House are going to be the same people that will feel betrayed, and they will be the same people who will start screaming about getting him OUT of the White House in four years.
In the meantime, I'm going to sit back and listen to the so-called experts try and dissect the events of this generation's version of Dewey Defeats Truman.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Friday, November 4, 2016
"You talkin' to me?"
"You talkin' to me?"
Travis Bickle, played by Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver, asked that iconic question.
Well, I'm not talking to Travis Bickle, or Robert DeNiro, but I am talking to several other people.
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
I'm talking to you:
Ted Cruz
Mark Levin
Sarah Palin
Rush Limbaugh
Sean Hannity
Bill O'Reilly
Ann Coulter
Newt Gingrich
Franklin Graham
And anyone else who calls themselves "conservative" but who's been willing to sell out their principles for the sake of not putting someone in the White House but for the sake of keeping someone out of the White House.
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
I'm talking to you.
You have sown the wind.
You will reap the whirlwind.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Travis Bickle, played by Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver, asked that iconic question.
Well, I'm not talking to Travis Bickle, or Robert DeNiro, but I am talking to several other people.
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
I'm talking to you:
Ted Cruz
Mark Levin
Sarah Palin
Rush Limbaugh
Sean Hannity
Bill O'Reilly
Ann Coulter
Newt Gingrich
Franklin Graham
And anyone else who calls themselves "conservative" but who's been willing to sell out their principles for the sake of not putting someone in the White House but for the sake of keeping someone out of the White House.
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
I'm talking to you.
You have sown the wind.
You will reap the whirlwind.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)