Life Moves Pretty Fast

I am a bit late to the game on this one, but I had to comment on the touching tribute to John Hughes that many of his former actors gave at the Oscars. It coincided with a great article in the March Vanity Fair by David Kamp that attempted to give insight into the reclusive writer and director.

As a solid member of GenX, I can't deny how Hughes defined my teen years. To be honest I can't even fully explain it in some ways, how a man 20 years older than me, could so capture all that I felt, all that I wanted to be, and all that I knew was out of my reach. He simply had a gift.

It was hard watching the Oscar tribute for me. It was emotional and touching, but on a personal front it was also disturbing to see how my idealized visions of youth—Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Matthew Broderick, Anthony Michael Hall, Jon Cryer, Ally Sheedy and even Macaulay Culkin—are older, different, grown up. Because that means I am too. I hope that they feel that they are better now than they were then, as I do. But it is nice to know that when they need to know how far they have come, they have Mr. Hughes movies to go back to and remind them of who they were. Again, thank you Mr. Hughes.

Tex Mess

You know what? All of you Texans who want to secede—go right ahead. I don't want you anymore. Especially if you are going to insist on distorting history and science to suit your agenda. What my child learns in school should be about facts, not whatever partisan side has their knickers in a twist this week.

Apparently, Texas has this ridiculous power to hold the other 49 states hostage in terms of text books because they are one of the largest purchasers of school textbooks in the country. So what they want from publishing companies ends up being what the rest of us get. I guess that goes a long way to explaining why they want our country referred to as a "constitutional republic" rather than a "democracy." Apparently they are afraid that 10-year-olds will get the "subliminal" message that because our country is a democracy they need to be democrats. Something tells me that kids are smarter than that, but somewhere between pubescence and adulthood, at least in Texas, those same kids turn mighty dumb.

This board of 15 people have also decided to stress the Second Amendment (gotta make sure that kids know they can carry guns!), and ignore the separation of church and state. We wouldn't want a pesky thing like the Founding Fathers fundamental ideas to interfere with how our Christian conservatives run things, now would we? Next they are going to outlaw sarcasm and then I will truly be fucked.

But let's not make this about me. Let's focus on who is really being screwed here—the future of our country. Because if these Texas board members have their way, our kids won't be learning about capitalism, but instead "free market enterprise." Can someone please explain to me how capitalism became evil (aside of course from the way Wall Street has wielded it to impoverish the majority of Americans so a handful of white men can pull in seven figures)?

Oh yeah, and they of course are stressing religion over science topics such as evolution. You know, I truly believe our country is at a cross roads. If we don't take a clear path forward and focus on the future, by educating our children, by seeking advancements in environmentally friendly power, by correcting the errors in our banking, credit and investment industries, and by offering every one of our citizens the right to healthcare, we will not be a world power when the spawn approaches middle age. The conservatives like to focus on how we are the greatest nation, but right now that is all smoke and mirrors. And tomorrow, if other countries continue to prepare themselves for the future, rather than concentrating on the past, we won't even have the smoke and mirrors anymore. All we will have is a bunch of disillusioned citizens who won't know that the world wasn't created in seven days. What a mess.

Love, Exciting and New

Why someone ever decided that a fat baby with wings was the best emblem to celebrate romantic love is beyond me. Anyone with a baby (or for that matter a kid) knows that trying to get your romance on with a wee one around is a challenge that involves the UN, NATO, some good locks and the ability to get the job done quick. And that is on a good day. But per usual, I digress. Tomorrow is that acclaimed day ala Hallmark—Valentine's Day. And seeing how romance is on the brain, whether you like it or not, at this time of year it seemed an apt time to finally ponder the whole John Edwards debacle.

Maybe it was because I came of age when Clinton took his sax to the airwaves and wooed me via MTV (back when the station played music and not homages to self absorbed brainless twats with tight bums and short attention spans), maybe it is just some genetic abnormality that makes me prone to believe the lofty rhetoric of any earnest liberal, maybe it is even a subconscious rejection of having Jesse Helms represent my beloved state for low those many years. The reason remains a mystery, but the result is that I fell for John Edwards—hook, line and sinker. I don't mean I found him physically attractive, I mean he is fine, but a bit too pretty and polished for my taste, rather I bought all of his "Two Americas," his belief that he could lead our country in the right direction. Sadly, I still believe all of that, and I still believe that he believed it as well. The tragedy is that his political beliefs are not quite enough to balance out his moral depravity, at least not in the eyes of most Americans.

If this were another country, say the oft vilified France, maybe Edwards indiscretions, subsequent love child and his wife's eventual abandonment of him wouldn't have mattered in terms of his political career. Sadly, our American puritanical streak is more evident than the roots on a trailer park blonde. My fellow countrymen can't seem to separate what a person does between the sheets and what they can do in their careers. Right or wrong that is the way it is.

What is so disappointing about the Edwards case is not so much that he cheated, then lied over and over again to his wife who has had enough bad news to last several lifetimes, it is that he had the hubris to think that it wouldn't matter to the American people and that if he had won the Democratic nomination that he wouldn't have been handing the election to the Republican candidate (in this case McCain and his brainless bimbette, Sarah Palin). That is truly inexcusable to me. If he loved his country, he would never put us in that position, especially not after being put through eight years of Dubya whose high jinks nearly tore our country apart.

Don't get me wrong, I am horrified about what Edwards did to his family, and for what? Vanity? Surely he didn't love that woman? But if he did, wouldn't it have been better to be upfront with his wife than try and deceive her? But speculating about all of that is futile, it is private and up to the Edwards' to handle amongst themselves. Andrew Young's book The Politician exposed not only Edwards' indiscretion, but also indicated that Elizabeth Edwards learned of the affair and then proceeded to encourage her husband to continue his then-presidential run. I have always been a big fan of Elizabeth Edwards and was saddened when her cancer reoccurred and even more upset that her husband would do this to her, but if Young's claims are true, she is in her own way just as culpable as her husband in potentially leading our country astray. And dang, that just makes me sad.

I will still wake up tomorrow and naively believe that people are good and that somewhere out there a politician exists who can be honest and who will work hard to do what is best for his/her constituents. But I would be lying if I said that my optimism isn't bruised.

Insult to Injury

In case you have forgotten, I recently took the time in New Year, New Rant to blog about an unfortunate doctors visit I had the first of January. Well, the other week I got a bill for a pathology test and then last week I got a bill from the doctor's office. The grand total was $133.41. I ignored them because I figured that something had been billed to my insurance incorrectly and it would be straightened out. After all, I shouldn't have to pay more than my $25 copay for an annual well visit, right?

WRONG.

I called the lovely folks at Blue Cross/Blue Shield this morning to find out what the dealio was (because I also had to find out my copay for a little upcoming hand surgery I am having). I was told that I have to meet a $150 deductible before my doctor's visits, etc. are covered beyond my copay. So not only did I get shitty treatment at the doctor's office, but I am now paying for that privilege to the tune of $158.41 (the $133.41 I have been billed and the $25 copay I laid out at the office the day of). Nice, really nice. And what makes this all so much more galling is I don't go to the doctor except for annual visits usually. So basically I have met my deductible first thing this year and it will do me no good, because if I were to stay with this insurance, it would all start over again come 2011.

Now let me break this down for you gentle readers in plain, ole dollars and cents. Currently, the spouse and I are paying a reduced Cobra amount for our insurance of just under $400 a month. The spawn's insurance policy is $125 a month. The spouse's prescription costs are $300 a month and he is still paying for his colonoscopy in 2008 and back surgery in 2009 to the tune of $200 a month. Grand total—$1,025. Bear in mind this does not include a copay should any of us have a doctor's appointment in the month. Our mortgage is under $850 a month. That, very simply, gentle readers is FUCKED UP. If we didn't qualify for the reduced Cobra that total would be $1,725.

But we don't need insurance/healthcare reform, no, not at all . . .

Oh No You Didn't

So last night the President gave the State of the Union speech, and trust me I have more to say about that (among other things) and plan to get off my duff and post them (really!). But for this moment I would like to concentrate on the actions of one Samuel Alito last night during the speech.

While I think it is nuts to make the Supreme Court (and for that matter the major military brass) attend the State of the Union since they can't indicate any partisanship that however, is the way it is. Except last night when it wasn't. For Justice Alito decided to add his editorial head shake to President Obama's disapproval for the recent Court ruling that allowed corporations to contribute to political campaigns without limits. In effect the Court gave corporations the right of individual citizens saying that it was a First Amendment issue of free speech. Not only does this reverse a hundred years of Court rulings, but it is just plain bad. Corporations do not always, or even some of the time depending on the business, have the best interests of our citizens or our country at the heart of their enterprises. Rather they are often interested in only what makes them profitable. For every Google who pledges to "Do no evil" (which you can feel free to believe or not) there is an Enron that knowingly fleeces its employees and stock holders for the benefit of a small minority. Or an Exxon who allows a natural catastrophe to occur, decimating an environment and a legion of wildlife.

So when President Obama said the ruling had "opened the floodgates" and would allow special interests and even foreign countries to hold sway in our elections, Alito shook his head and apparently mouthed the words "not true."

Wow. In a world where even which big box store you buy from can be a partisan decision, I had hoped we could cling to the allusion that our Supreme Court still had a veneer of impartiality and could rise above the fray of democrat/republican bickering. Apparently like much these days when it comes to our political leaders, I was disastrously wrong. My bad, but Alito's worst.

37 Candles

I have made no bones about my long and illustrious fascination with Molly Ringwald. From her red locks to her two piercings in one ear to the grunge-era ode to her by the band Sponge, I love me some of the Brat Pack Princess. I thought the closest I would ever come to being like Ms. Ringwald would be a result of a box of Ms. Clairol and my mother not buying me a birthday present when I was 17 until I cried at the local fish restaurant and guilted her into taking me to the video store for a VHS copy of Help! starring the Fab Four (John, Paul George and Ringo, will never, I repeat NEVER let you down).

But alas, as James Bond so helpfully reminds us, Never Say Never Again. Thirty seven years and about 1 hour and 45 minutes ago on a Monday evening I entered the world, if my mother's recollection is to be trusted. Then again, she could have me confused with my brother's birth. Regardless, this birthday I was forgotten. I got calls from my brother, my mother-in-law, my step-daughter, my step-step-son, my grad school friend, and my next door neighbor. That doesn't include the countless greetings from people I barely knew in college who I am friends with on Facebook. But my mother—nothing.

So kiddies, when it comes time for your grown-ass children to hit their 37th, 57th or 87th, if you are still walking the Earth, I prey that you do not forget them. Because whether you are 16 or any age, having your mom forget your birthday SUCKS BALLS.

Word Jumble

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming . . .

I am alternatively amused and fascinated by the different meanings we imbue on a word. God knows that I love and make frequent use of my share of obscenities and profanities.

"I had heard that word at least ten times a day from my old man. He worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium; a master."

Someday, perhaps the spawn will speak so lovingly and eloquently of me.

I honestly think I could make some sailors blush if given the opportunity and I managed to snag the spouse largely as a result of my salty tongue, but I digress. Word meanings—isn't it crazy how we decide that "fuck" is a bad word and that "flock" is not. They are merely letters and sounds put together that we put our meaning on.

Then there are those words that mean different things in different places. One favorite of mine is shag. Here in the good 'ole U.S of A it is a rip, roaring dance made popular on the beaches of the southern states back in the 1950s and 60s. But you cross the pond to our intrepid neighbors in the English language and shag is a less than romantic form of copulation. You say toe-may-toe, I say toe-mah-toe . . . that sort of thing, you know?

So I am intrigued by the hullaballoo that the Right has made about President Obama's lack of the use of the word terror. Does it matter what we call it when someone decides that their ideas and opinions are more valuable than the lives of other innocent human beings? Or does the fact that those human beings don't hold those same values or opinions dear, make them somehow guilty? I guess in the eyes of those terrorists or bombers or extremists, those who aren't with them are against them. Gosh, that sounds familiar, doesn't it?

In the end, terror is just a word that tries to contain the horror of one person or one's group decision to cause harm, unexpectedly and without warning, to another person or group. It is the action and meaning behind the word that we need to focus on, not the word itself.

New Year, New Rant

Pardon me gentle readers as I digress from our typical topic of politics, although god knows I haven't exactly been verbose on the topic of late. There has been so much back and forth, most of it mindless about the health care debate for the past several months that I have been only too willing to tune it out. Today's little ditty touches on the healthcare topic, but not quite in the vein that our beloved politicians have been tossing about since before Santa squeezed his fat ass down the chimney.

So, today's post is going to get a bit personal, I promise to not get graphic or icky, after all some of you may be delicate. I am going to talk about my yearly visit to the lady doctor. For those of you who aren't female, we of the xx chromosome persuasion are expected to visit the lady doctor on an annual basis and get our girly bits checked out. While I know you men have to go groped in the giblets, trust me, it ain't the same. But I promised not to be graphic.

When I called several weeks ago, after realizing that my normal time of year for this appointment had come and gone with no note from the lady doctor to remind me, I was told that my doctor of the past five-ish years had left the practice. So I picked someone who I saw once during the rotation during my pregnancy with the spawn. This doctor had seemed pleasant enough and I figured it was no big deal.

I arrived 15 minutes early as requested. I waited. After about half an hour, the nurse called my name and took me back to get my blood pressure, height and weight. Ms. Personality asked me no other questions and took no other information. This took maybe five minutes. She then asked me to wait in another waiting room. Almost 45 minutes go by this time and I am finally escorted to the examination room. I don my lovely little gown and sit beneath my paper sheet, eager to share my private parts with someone new. At least another fifteen minutes go by. Finally the doctor enters, shakes my hand, says nice to meet you. She asks me a brief question or two and then begins the exam. She finishes, asks if there is anything else, hands over my chart and leaves. In all, she saw me for five minutes.

Listen, I get that doctors are busy. And she apologize for keeping me waiting. But when the lady who does my bikini wax spends more time in my nether regions than my gynecologist, something is seriously wrong. I had met this lady only once, she obviously didn't remember me (which is fine and to be expected), but to not take the time to a) meet me with my FREAKIN' clothes on and b) to ask me a bit about me and my medical history is flat wrong.

The spouse asked, "Did you expect her to take you out to dinner, like a date?" Well, no, but back in the day when I was dating, a dude had to do a bit more than just make me wait almost two hours and ask me how my birth control of choice was working for me. Admittedly my standards weren't super high back then, but I had some self-respect.

So I think I will be shopping for a new doctors office. I mean, if you are going to stick your head in my crotch, I at least expect you to make a bit of small talk first. I don't think that is asking too much.