Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Is He Calling Himself a Piece Of

Let’s play a game of “Guess Who Said It”. I’ll go first.
“We need to flush the toilet and get clean water in there,” speaking about term limits for Congress. And the speaker is… Mike Huckabee. Gotta love a guy who so accurately describes his profession…
Why does the image have to be so ugly? Couldn’t he be more up-to-date and use a vampire analogy? Something along the “fresh blood” lines? He’d get the younger crowd to vote for him, maybe. Or, he could have used a sports analogy. Sports are always popular and they have a lot in common with politics, especially full-contact sports. He could have said something like, “When you’re 35 and your RBI has dropped by 50%, it’s time to retire your bat and make room on the bench for the new kids.” Or, he could have used a cooking analogy to get the suburban housewife vote (not mine, but someone’s). How about, “You can’t use nutmeg all the time. You’ve got to shake things up, add a bit of coriander, substitute hot paprika for parsley.” Then you have the traditional “allusion to famous generals” version. “Caesar can’t fight the same war Nelson fought.” My last suggestion panders to the over-50 crowd. “Those men at Dunkirk, they knew they might not see the end of the war. But they went in there, guns blazing, ready to make way for the men who would come after them. That’s what we need. We need men and women in Congress who can give it their all, knowing that their time at the front may be short.”
I’m in favor of term limits. I think every few years, we ought to shovel the whole mess out, fumigate the halls, and start over again. I think playing politics makes men and women dirty. Not because they start off that way, but because they give a little here, a little there, and soon, you can’t tell that they used to have ideals. And then, give the down-trodden-for-too-long a moment to shine, like Pelosi and Reid, and you’ve suddenly got Bozo the Clown running the show. But, gee, he’ll be so green.
Another true confession: I didn’t vote for Obama. And before my Republican friends start gloating, I didn’t vote for McCain, either. Far worse. I voted for Nadar. Oh, I didn’t really want him to win, which was a pretty safe bet for me, but I did want to send a message, which I’m sure the two parties got loud and clear. Clean it up. No more slime on Capital Hill, no more feasting with the lobbyists, no more telling me one thing and sneaking around to do another thing. And get out of there before you become an icon. If I’ve seen your name on the roster for my entire life, you’ve been there too long. And Huckabee, that goes for you, too.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


I’m such an idiot. This is not a plea for ego stroking: this is a confession.
Today, I’m standing with 4 people in a small room at church. One woman, who was recently asked to teach music to the children, wanted to know about the woman who plays the piano for the children. I said that the pianist is one of the nicest people I know. But. Oh, the ‘but’. She doesn’t really play well. She’s fine for practice, but she’s not very good, certainly not good enough for performance. The new music leader complained a bit and said that she’d ask for a new pianist because she’s used to having good accompaniment. I replied that this might be something she just has to learn to work with and maybe the pianist will start practicing more because I didn’t know if she actually practiced much.
And several hours later I realized that one of the four people in the very small, very quiet room was (drum roll) the pianist’s father-in-law.
Someone should glue my mouth shut.
The thing is, I know better than to say anything negative about people. I know to shut up if I can’t make it all nice. I could defend myself by saying that the music leader needs to know what she’s working with, but in reality, there is no defense. Here I am, teaching children to be more Christ-like, and I sit around gossiping about someone who is doing a very difficult job, without pay, all because someone asked her to. She didn’t request the job. She didn’t try to sell herself. She just agreed, cheerfully, to sit behind a piano while 60 rowdy children learn songs which they may or may not decide to sing.
Sure, this is a learning moment. I’ve learned that I will never learn, and the family of the pianist can learn to forgive.
Maybe I’ll become a hermit. Hermits don’t have to work with other people. They also don’t have to shower, so I’m well on my way there.