Mae West, Annie Oakley, and Momma Hol

While browsing thru some of my favorite websites this morning, i stumbled upon an interesting discussion about feminism. Avital Norman Nathman and Mayim Bialik have opposing views about an Instagram post of Amber Rose that was taken down almost as fast as it was put up. I have not seen the photo, but apparently it featured Amber, bottomless, oiled up, and showing her pubic hair. Amber felt it was a feminist post. Avital agrees. Mayim isn’t so sure. Avital feels it is reclaiming the female body from the patriarchy. Mayim feels it is playing into the patriarchy. It’s a great thing to watch: Two educated and passionately feminist women disagreeing in a respectful and thought-provoking way. (Hey, Washington, pay attention! You might learn something!)

Opposing views of feminism from Grok Nation

In any case, it got me to thinking, what kind of feminist am i?

Nearly 30 years ago now, i was halfway thru my Bachelor’s when i took a class in Feminist Political Theory. There were maybe 20 of us in the class, and only 3 or 4 were men. There were career women, older returning students, and proto-goths who were re-inventing the hippie life. I  was married at the time, to a man, and frequently came to class with my baby in a sling, strapped to my chest. I stood out. And in a very awkward way.

Every class was a discussion about a specific matter of importance to the feminist community: Education, health care, infant mortality, sex crimes… Followed by a discussion on how our foremothers fought for and dealt with these issues throughout history. I didn’t enter into the discussions much. My situation was much different from the others’, and a lot of their fires seemed abstract to me in my situation. Not to mention, i wasn’t sure how i would be taken…

… Until one day, one of my classmates used me as an example of victims of the patriarchy. I did speak up to that. And i continued to speak and share my point until i felt i was making the others think about their hypocrisy. I got married of my own free will. I had a choice with my pregnancy, and i chose to become a mom. And i made my own choice not to leave my daughter in day care when i didn’t have to. Wasn’t that what feminism was supposed to be about? Allowing us to make our own choices in the same way that men do? I mean, i am hardly old-fashioned, and was even less so then. I refused to be painted as a bad guy, and was disappointed that few could see my side.

At the same time i was taking that class, i was working on a thesis about the importance of the Madams of the Old West. How, because they were frequently the only ones with money, they often took on tasks of banker, city advocate, and philanthropist. They knew that what women had, and men did not, was the singular power of sex. And they used it to their advantage. And their pocketbooks. They were businesswomen, and generally feminist women, besides (For the time period, anyway). The sheriff and preacher might rail against the evils of prostitution, but when the city was broke and the children needed medicine, they knew the painted ladies would help. (Then, after the fear and need were gone, they would run those same ladies out on a rail.. But that is another story entirely.)

In later years, you saw some feminists aligning with prohibitionists – Because the evils of alcohol encouraged men to treat women poorly. Then others aligned with the anti-slavery cause – Because women knew what it was like to have no power, and wished that on no one else… Equality for all! (Ok, ok, there were other political motives as well, especially for the top brass of the movements… But i’m talking the bulk of the members here.) There was always more than one side. Always more than one movement. Feminists were never united except in most basic premise, even before the United States was an entity.

So why should it surprise us that we currently have divisions within the feminist movement?  And why should we feel that only one is “right”?

The women who opt to dress modestly to play down the sexualization of women are no less feminist than those who dress provocatively to take ownership of the female form. If you prefer to keep your legs shaved, you shouldn’t be booted out of the cause for your trichophobia. The woman who has always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom is no less than her career sisters simply because of that aspiration. And that’s not even including the color issues, the trans issues, and all the other subsets of feminism. I’m pretty sure there’s room for all of us.

And we are all valid.

Truly, you don’t even have to be female. By definition, all you have to do is believe that women and men deserve equal rights and equal opportunities. And every father i know, if they didn’t believe it before, believed it once he had a daughter. (You may know someone who doesn’t. Heck, you may even be that someone. But i hope someday you change your mind. Subjugating women, or anyone for that matter, is rarely a helpful idea.)

As i read in the news earlier this week, in this day and age, there should be no laws left that start with the phrase “A woman shall not…, ” because if a woman shouldn’t, a man shouldn’t either. And if a man can, why can’t a woman?

For my fellow women, why can’t we accept each others’ choices and expressions of feminism, even if it isn’t ours? I have a daughter who doesn’t shave her pits. It isn’t my gig, and i’m still not used to it… But i respect her choice.

Shaved or not. Reveling in your sexuality, or taking a more modest approach. Lesbian commercial fisherman, or Pioneer Momma wannabe. Avid painter of flowers, or avid painter of labia. Vocally political, or only vocal at your daughter’s rugby games. We all have something to bring to the table. As long as we all stand for equality, we should be able to stand together when it counts. And, hopefully, we will be able to stand with others as well, since we know how hard bucking the establishment can be. Sometimes it takes every available hand. And even then, it may still take a century. Or two. Or more.

So, what kind of feminist am i? Well, that continues to evolve. As i speak with more feminists of color, more feminists with different backgrounds, different experiences, different views, i am forced to confront things that i hadn’t taken into account. And as i talk to more emotive men, i am also forced to confront some of the backwards limitations that we put on our male counterparts. We can’t move forward if we don’t bring them with us.  (Think about how many posts you have seen about body positivity featuring females. Now think of how many you’ve seen featuring men…. Yes, they’ve traditionally had the upper hand, but not all men get all benefits.)

So lets talk about it. Hear what each other has to say. See if we can work together. Consider it practice… For when things really get equal, and we are taking up half of Capitol Hill.

Lets get the discourse going now. There’s a lot to be done, and it’s going to take all of us.

 

As i went thru spell-check on this document, i found it rather ironic that it marked the word “sexualization”, but had no replacement. 

 

Girl Power

When i was a kid, if i had handed an alien my U.S. History book as an insight to our country, they would have thought nearly everyone of importance was a white male.  From Columbus and his male crew meeting the (male) chief of the local tribe, to Captain John Smith, to President George Washington (And every president up til this decade)…  3/4 of the book was white men. Yes, we learned about Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Eleanor Roosevelt. We learned about George Washington Carver and Martin Luther King Jr. We learned about Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks. We learned about Pocahontas and Sacagawea. But that was about it. The only person i remember being called out as specifically Jewish was Einstein. And if there were people of any other ethnic persuasions, i don’t remember any time being spent on them. Sad, really.

Granted, some of it is due to the fact that, until fairly recently, generally speaking, white men held the seats of power. The status quo was a European Christian male as the leader of… well.. pretty much everything. But times, they are a’changing. Every day this country becomes more diverse. And as a result, more groups are getting a chance to partake in the type of history that gets documented in textbooks. I mean, we all have always been a part of history… Just not the part that gets into the popular public record. But even that is starting to come around.

I went to see Hidden Figures  yesterday. To my surprise and delight, my son was eager to see it as well. If you somehow haven’t seen the trailers, it is the story of the “human computers”, specifically, a group of black women, who were responsible for the calculations used to get men into space. Now, i have made it a point to study women’s history for nearly 30 years, but i can honestly say that i didn’t know anything about these women until a few years back when  my daughter and i had the pleasure of hearing Dr Mae Jemison speak, and she talked about some of the women who came before her at NASA. One of the things she said about those women, women like herself, has stuck with me – They were black, they were female, and they were “nerds”; so they had three strikes against them when it came to public impressions. Thankfully, Dr. Jemison’s parents never bought into that. They encouraged her, even knowing how difficult the path would be. Becoming an astonaut is hard for anyone. But at that time, for a black woman, even more so. She did it anyway. And now it is easily conceivable for a woman, of any ethnicity, to go to space.

We need to put women like these into the history books. Important, significant women of all types to help further the aspirations of our weedlings. Lets make it easier for them to spend less time reading about the Kardashians, and more time reading about  Madame C.J. Walker, Wilma Mankiller, Maya Lin, the Notorious RBG (Ruth Bader Ginsberg, to those not in-the-know). And lesser known, but still historically significant women like Deborah Samson, Ann E. Dunwoody, Dr Helen Rodríguez Trías,  and Dr. Rebecca Lee Crumpler. By including women like these, we show that it is possible for ALL girls, and by extension, ALL children, to grow to become people of historical significance.

Lets face it, folks, it wasn’t that long ago when independent women were burned at the stake as witches. When black women were thought to be little more than oxen. When intelligent women were thought to be anomalies. When conventionally unattractive women were considered to be hopeless. And on and on. And heaven help you if you had more than one of those strikes against you.

Yes, i am fully aware that i am soap-boxing. But this is important to me.

Also of note, we need to make sure that we don’t go overboard and infringe upon those who take paths society deems “backwards”. The woman who chooses to be a stay-at-home mom is important, not because of some misogynistic fluff, but because she CHOSE to be that in the face of small-minded feminists who don’t see the value in it. The woman who becomes a Catholic nun or Buddhist monk is important not because she is sheltered from the world, but because she CHOSE to dedicate her life to something she cared deeply about in spite of others finding it old-fashioned. The young woman who attends an all-girls’ school, or an all-black school, or any separatist institution is doing so BY HER OWN CHOICE, and that makes it significant. Even if it is something that others might feel is a step back. In this context, a free choice is a step forward, even if the result is not one that seems progressive to the masses.

My daughters have never felt fettered by notions of what women are “supposed to do”. At least i don’t think they have. I hope they haven’t. I’ve tried to instill in them the belief that society’s notions are not a code that needs to be followed. I try to be the same with my son, as he, too, will find gates and fences that will try to block his path along the way. Teaching our weedlings that there are endless possibilities in life is most important… And should be followed closely by the teaching that “endless” does not mean “easy”. The norms we frequently have to buck against require effort to overcome. Swimming against the tide, literally or figuratively, is much more labor intensive than going with the flow. It is not for everyone.

And that’s ok. We don’t all have to be trailblazers. It takes all kinds of women, of people, to make the world the wonder that it is. Being a “regular Joe” (Or Josephine) is nothing shameful. The important thing is not the life you choose, but that YOU choose it. Yourself. Freely. Knowing that any choice was allowable. President or Preacher. Entertainer or Inventor. Mayor or Mother. Any choice you make freely with the conviction of your own heart is a good choice. But the only way we know that is to read and learn about those who came before us. The choices they made, the goals they set, and what it took to realize them.

These women, they were remarkable.

And so are we.

 

Momma Hol Has Had It

In children’s athletics, the teams greet each other after the game in a show of sportsmanship. No heckling or bashing is allowed. The losers aren’t expected to be happy about losing, but they are expected to be courteous and to concede with grace. The winners, in return, are not allowed to gloat. They congratulate the other team on a game well-played. And then both teams walk away intent on playing better next time.

Since most of us don’t go on to become professional athletes, the lesson of winners and losers is probably the most important thing we learn from playing team sports as kids. And yet, over the last week, a lot of us seem to have forgotten. Social media over the last week has been chock full of hatred. Democrats hating that they lost. Republicans hating because they’re fed up with the half of the nation that has been sitting shiva since election day. Third party voters hating because they just want to move on, and neither side is letting it happen.

Well, newsflash: Democrats, you lost. You are allowed to be disappointed, but no amount of collective weeping is going to change the outcome. You want your candidate to win? Congratulations! You have another chance four years from now. Run a stronger campaign, and you can take the White House. But for now, put on your big-kid panties and give the guy a chance. He may not be as bad as you expect.

Republicans,  you want the Democrats to stop whining? Quit rubbing your opinion of their candidate in their faces. Be the gracious winner, congratulate them on their efforts, and move on. Remember, this isn’t a permanent position. Your candidate may not be all you expected. In four years, you might be in their shoes, so remember the Golden Rule.

Third party voters: We lost. We knew we were going to. I think that makes it easier for us. But we fought well and brought the potential for a third party to enter into the finals up to something approaching reality. Now, lets quit grumbling and build on our momentum, or we’ll be in the same boat four years from now.

And to all my friends from all sides of the political spectrum: I love you all. Really really. But i can’t take the arguing any more. Yes, there is the potential for scary times ahead; but there always is when we elect a new president. Yes, our President-Elect has said more daft, derogatory, and offensive things than Prince Phillip. But that doesn’t likely mean that he will put an end to Democracy as we know it. In fact, it’s unlikely he could. Our government is structured to keep that from happening. (Perhaps you noticed that there were other political positions on your ballot? Yes, those were important. Just as important as the one at the top. Perhaps more so, since they affect your community directly.)  The causes that are dear to your heart, the ones you are worried will go by the wayside over the next four years… Get active with them! And if it appears that our leaders won’t take the stand you want, make your voice heard. That’s how things change…

Which brings us back to the presidential election. Obviously, enough people wanted this change to make it happen. (And before you argue about the Electoral College being unfair, that point is moot. The fact of the matter is, we all knew the Electoral College would apply in this election. It wasn’t a last minute decision.) Whether you voted for him or not, Donald Trump is our new president. Rather than bash each other for being “for” or “against”, remember that both votes are on the same team. The U.S. team. We might scrimmage against each other, but come time for the playoffs, we’d all better be working together. Otherwise, we’re all sure to lose.

And If She Asks You Why, You Can Tell Her That I Told You

You can’t make anyone do anything. In the end we all do what we want. We only have control over our own actions, and sometimes even that is questionable.

Have you ever watched someone about to fall? You see them shift, you watch the tilt, all in slow motion. You know they are in for pain, and you know you can’t stop it. I watched a relationship do that last night. Yes, i was uncomfortable. Yes, i felt awkward. But, mostly, i felt powerless. Even understanding both sides of the argument, able to empathize with how each of them felt, there was no way to make peace. Both friends would suffer, and there wasn’t a damned thing i could do about it.

This morning, it was the global version of that same sensation. As i learned of the shooting in Orlando, which is sad enough in itself, i could see what would happen next: Knee jerk reaction and retaliation of Americans against muslims, savage protests by the masses, the promotion and election of politicians who eat such groups for breakfast, and the escalation of violence and hatred between religions. Again, i am devastated, weeping for the results. And again, i am impotent. Nothing i say or do is going to bring those victims back to life, nor will it stop the vicious aftermath.

I realize that many times in life and history, one lone voice has impacted the vector of time and stopped the descent into whatever circle of hell was gaining ground at that moment; but those voices came from people who already commanded attention. The Dalai Lama, Mother Theresa, Jimmy Carter, Robin Williams… Some people have the gift of influence. You, me, Daniel the bartender, most of the people we know… We could plead til we were blue in the face, but the politicians, the terrorists, the hatemongers… None of them are listening. Even on the small-scale, watching a fight between friends, it is nearly impossible to build a bridge that can bear the weight of the hurt feelings. To our credit, most of us still try, desperately hanging onto the thread of a utopian pipe dream.

Most of the time we are disappointed.

But that last shred of faith, the faint shadow of that castle in the air… They give us the strength for another attempt. Some of us are too stubborn to resolve ourselves to watching havoc play out like a movie. And tho i may never be able to keep terrorists from annihilating a group of bystanders, perhaps i can at least give my friends a white flag to clutch in peace.

I would still consider that a success.

 

 

To Die With Honor ~ Memorial Day 2016

So the Klingons have this saying, “It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.” (Unsurprisingly, but a bit disappointingly, they didn’t coin the phrase. They stole it from Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata.)  Warriors have this credo running in their blood.

What good is life if we merely exist as chemical creations, without letting ourselves shine forth like the miraculous spirit-filled beings we are? The energy we house, the ideas we birth, the inventions, the music, the poetry! We must be free to liberate these things from ourselves, or it is all for nothing. Not all of us have the strength of body or will to fight the good fight for this human cause. For freedom. But there are a special few whose hearts are bursting at the seams with a need to plow the road for others, so that they can live and laugh and love without tethers to an ersatz owner.

“Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13 (NASB)  Soldiers have this credo in their veins. The men and women who serve our community and country are all of a special breed. Being willing to die for your fellow citizens is a commitment that few make. Whether storming the beach at Normandy, protecting a village from conquerors, or becoming a human shield for an innocent, the ones in uniform have proven themselves heroes time and again. And as the saying goes, tho all gave some, some gave all. And it is those we honor today.

I served. And tho i never expected the time would come, i did end up in a war zone. I did my job to the best of my ability and i never gave a thought to bailing, even tho, like most of my brothers and sisters who served with me, i didn’t really understand why we were there. And if i had died there, i’d have been pissed. My spirit angry at the emptiness and vanity that comes with the mockery of a calling.

“Any soldier worth his salt should be antiwar. And still there are things worth fighting for.” ~ Norman Schwarzkopf. And this, THIS, is what makes the difference between a mercenary and a hero. A patsy and a protector. If i had died without contributing to a human cause, i would have considered it senseless.

It’s an insult to all who don a uniform and serve to send them to die without cause. To use them as anything but the mighty defenders they are. They are not pawns for corporate needs. They are not leverage for your financial interests. They are vanquishers of those who would terrorize innocents. Do not belittle their importance and significance by using them as sympathy points in the media or distractions from real and true human issues.

The veterans at home now, who are committing suicide in droves, this is what happens when you strip soldiers of their honor. When you pointedly tell them in word and in deed that their actions made no difference. When you rip from them their worth by subjugating the notion they hold most dear. When you shrink their value to little more than a penny on the sidewalk, its triviality so obvious that no one stoops to pick it up.

On this, Memorial Day, i am on fire for my brothers and sisters who gave all and are forgotten. The ones whose importance is diminished by government and bureaucracy who don’t hold dear the responsibilities that our soldiers took on before they were taken back by God/Goddess/Universe to the virtuous gemstone quarry from which they came. They deserve better. Their souls deserve respect. Notice. And in their darkest hours, protection of the masses as they once protected us.

Those of us who have served… Who lost someone in service… Who remember a time when the powers that be thought far more of those who volunteered their lives… It is our turn to say thank you. Not just with a day of remembrance, but with voice and action. Humankind is lucky to have those heroes who walked, unflinching, into the face of darkness and never returned. A little gratitude is not remiss. And the best way to say thank you is to keep any other service member from dying without reason. Take care of those who do return. When they have fought to their last breath, breathe for them. Give them a cause worth sacrificing for, and respite when they are spent. It is the least we can do, but all they ask for. Help our government to remember.

War is an evil thing. Be glad that someone took up arms in your stead, so that you wouldn’t have to live the horrors of it. Especially if you are one who sent them to war in the first place.

Yes, Uncle Sam, i am talking to you.

You Can Even Eat the Dishes

I am happy today. Yup. Just happy.

I started the day doing laundry. That probably doesn’t sound happy to most people, but i actually enjoy doing laundry. In fact, i have often mused that it would be awesome if there were a washing machine for life. Something we could throw all our nasty and dirty laundry in and have it come out nice and clean and smelling like Downy. Wouldn’t that be great? We could all toss in our 20s, and voilà, no more bad decision one night stands! Toss in our 30s and tada!, no more letting your kids have snack cakes and kool-aid while watching teletubbies because you’re tired, it’s been a long week, and you just need half an hour of quiet. I could go on, but that would get too close to recent memory for comfort.

Anyway, obviously there is no such thing, or we’d all be as beloved as Mother Theresa.

I also spent a couple of hours this morning sorting thru my clothes closet. Again, doesn’t seem like a happy thing at first glance, but i promise, it can be. I found a pretty summer skirt that i forgot i had. I culled a bunch of things that needed to go (I made myself a promise last year that i would only keep things that made me happy. Including my clothes. So anything that i didn’t like enough to wear over the winter got cut out instead of going in winter storage.) I like paring down. It makes me feel free to let go of things. And free equals happy in my book.

I made a new batch of my organic body butter. Because this batch is for me, i have it scented with the blend that i customized just for myself. With the mixing and melting and blending, my kitchen now smells all warm and decadent.  And my hands are smooth and soft. My efforts get poured into one of those covered crystal candy dishes that are the mainstay of yard sales. It’s a little thing, but making my own lotions and perfumes makes me happy. A gesture of love to myself (or to others, if the batch is for them.) A gift from the heart. How can that not delight?

My oldest weedling and i went on a little jaunt after that. She brought me to her favorite thrift store. Racks and boxes and shelves of all manner of things. I went there with the intention of finding a small table to use as a meditation station / altar. I didn’t find one. But i got to do some interesting people watching. Single digit girls swooning over the prom gowns. A young couple arguing about the value of a lamp shaped like a fish. And i watched a middle aged man sort thru a pile of lace curtains, a look of scrutiny on his face, as if he were looking for the perfect panel for some special heart-felt project. A small peek into the lives of others. Much better than Jersey Shore.

In return for the entertainment, i treated my daughter to a Peruvian lunch. A small store front served us an assortment of vegetarian nibbles, capped off with our obligatory flan. The food was yummy and reminded me of the local food when i lived in Panama. The flan… She and i are both serious flan aficionados, so when i say that we were both tempted to lick the plate, you can imagine how good it was.  Close your eyes and envision heaven good. Steal it from your granny good. Liam Neeson’s in my bed good.

Well, maybe not THAT good. But good.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. More laundry, a cup of tea, and the score from The Hobbit. Sliding doors open to the breeze. The scent of the geranium i bought last week gently wafting thru. Siridog at my side. The knowledge that i will sleep enveloped in fresh sheets tonight. And a news story about a West Point graduate and decorated war veteran who won the right to wear his religiously significant beard and turban while in uniform. As a veteran myself, it makes me proud and happy for my Sikh brother.

Life is grand.

Of course, i’m not this easily pleased every day. I try to be, but sometimes life has other plans. Those days when everything you touch falls, spills, or breaks. When you realize all the bills are due 3 days before payday. When none of your pants will zip and your hair refuses to behave. When your weedling comes home and tells you they are quitting school to become a professional mime. Those days, it’s harder to  stay sunny. So you force yourself to tap dance while singing Candy Man. Sometimes, that is enough to change your luck. Sometimes you have to find an emergency sundae – The kind with full fat ice cream and homemade hot fudge and fresh whipped cream. And some days, you give up, chase a Benadryl with a shot of Jamesons, go to bed, and hope that tomorrow is better.

But today… Today is a good day. No need for the “groovy lemon pie”. Or the sugar fix. Or the booze. I am content. I am satisfied. I am happy.

Tho, now that i think about it, a scoop or two of coconut-almond chunk does sound good…

And starring *???* As The Mad Hatter!

Man, people are angry! Presidential elections always bring out passion in people, but this is getting ridiculous. Otherwise reasonable people hurling insults at their friends because they have voiced a dissenting opinion. And the people who aren’t generally reasonable, well, they have totally gone ’round the pipe. Watching a group of people have a beer on a pub patio yesterday, i was surprised to find myself thinking if this is what gatherings were like at the onset of the Civil War.

The debates? I admit, i only watched one in its entirety. The rest i picked up from clips. They make me feel like a lunch room monitor at middle school. The insults, the finger pointing and name calling, the personal digs… Are they presidential candidates or contenders for the Beer Pong Cup? You know it’s a messed up election year when the Democrats seem more austere and focused than the Republicans. And they have certainly been more respectful of each other. Not that they are perfect. Far from it. Rhetoric is rhetoric, even if it comes dressed for dinner.

The third party candidates could really ascend the staircase this year if they televised a debate and acted like educated adults.

It is not my place to advocate for any particular candidate. I’m a firm believer that in any election, one should do their research and vote for who represents them best, regardless of whether i agree. I respect and support your right to vote your conscience. Your view doesn’t have to be the same as mine. After all, i’m not Mother Theresa or the Dalai Lama. Hell, i’m not even Donny Osmond. I’m probably more of the Danny Bonaduce type. And lord knows, we don’t want him deciding the election. We are a collective and diverse people. Our votes should reflect that. And, as that same collective, we will live with the results.

All these people who say they will move to Canada if so-and-so gets elected? You know they won’t. For all our flaws, we are an awesome nation. Jacked-up, controversial, contradictory, and flat out illogical sometimes… But still awesome in our own dysfunction. We are like a massive adaptation of the Mad Hatter’s tea party. And the position of the Mad Hatter himself is up for re-election every four years. The actors change, but the party goes on. Ain’t it grand?

Ok, not perfect. As a nation, we have a lot of work to do and problems to solve. But i’d still rather do it here than anywhere else. We have discrimination and poverty and addiction and disparity and climate change and a million other bad things, just like every place else. But we also have opportunity and variety and expanse and beauty and freedom. And, singularly, we have Broadway and New Orleans Jazz and Eleanor Roosevelt and Glacier National Park  and Toll House cookies and oh-so-many other things. Not perfect. But definitely grand.

In any case, as the momentum to the election builds, i beg of you to be kind to each other. Don’t throw things at your neighbor because he likes Trump. Don’t belittle your coworker because she likes Bernie. Dig deep into your memory and think of a time when you thought you had the right answer, went with it, and discovered you were wrong. You have one. I know you do. And you might have one again, this election. Or they might. And won’t it suck if you are no longer friends and can’t have a beer and say, “I told you so.”

In the end, it’s just politics. Regardless of who gets elected, our day to day will change very little. We will get up, suck down some coffee, go to work, come home, walk the dog, make supper, play with the weedlings, take out the trash, watch some tv, get lucky (if we’re lucky), then go to bed…. And wake up the next day to do it all again. On the weekends, hopefully, we’ll be grilling some burgers in the back yard with those same people who didn’t like our presidential candidate. So be nice. And allow for the possibility that other opinions aren’t stupid. In return, maybe they won’t laugh in your face when you lose.

I promise, i won’t.