My long vacation Down Under

My husband and I are unconventional travelers--we never check-in our luggage.  It all began shortly after we met 14 years ago.  He’d invited me to explore the Greek isles, with one condition. I was to bring only what I could carry.  “Nothing can hold you back that way,” he said. Carrying one small bag is a great idea if you’re globetrotting and staying in 2 star hotels, but this trip was different.  We were embarking on a 30-day fancy cruise from Sydney to Los Angeles.  There were dozens of formal nights on board, and the weather was cold in Australia and New Zealand, hot and humid in French Polynesia, cool again in Los Angeles.  After wearing my little black dress four different ways, I began to look at the curtains in our stateroom as an option, a la "Gone with the Wind."  I'm afraid I would've end up looking like Carol Burnett in the parody, curtain rod shoulders and all.  In the end I did all right; few noticed I'd used my sundress as an evening gown a few times, or that my black slacks, sweaters and skirts had also double dutied. 

Tuesday, must be Sydney

I'll be exploring this world down under for a month. From time to time I'll post impressions. I'll be in Sydney until Thursday, then cruise through Tasmania, New Zealand and French Polyesia all the way to Los Angeles.

Brothers should pull up their pants

"Brothers should pull up their pants," President Elect Barack Obama said when asked about laws being passed to outlaw sagging pants. 

I respectfully disagree, Obie One.  I rather see young men busy trying to keep their pants up, their colorful underwear showing, than cracks showing over low slung jeans.

Yeah, I know. Everyone's missing the point.  Is not about decency, it’s about the fear that with gangsta rap and sagging jeans comes crime, but no one will come out and say it.  It’s easier to talk about the indecency of underwear showing.

Except that we long ago crossed the line of decency.  Slut's in.  What does President Obama think about young women all over the mall wearing plunging necklines, exposing overinflated silicone breasts a la Pamela Anderson?  What about impossibly short baby doll dresses, mile high stilettos and skimpy thong underwear (or no underwear a la Britney?). No one's yet asked that question, but we can guess his answer.  Something evasive, some “let’s focus on the economy, live-let-live” kind of response. He'd never criticize mothers who dress even sluttier than their daughters, or dad's who walk around with the crack showing, parents who give their daughters boob jobs as sweet sixteen presents.  He won’t because, among other things, well, those folks are mostly white.  Barack can get away with telling black kids to pull up their pants, but he can't tell young Britneys to wear underwear or cover their boobs.

As for fashion trends, they're just that. Trends.  Some are short lived, some stubbornly stick around for a while, like the sagging pants, but those too are on the way out.

I guess the only reason sagging pants are still around is because so many object to them.  Nothing better than being noticed and feared not for whom we are, but what we wear.  Maybe young black men have been feeling powerless, and their clothes express power.  With
Barack as President that attitude might change. I can't wait to see how that change in attitude gets translated into fashion.

But we can’t legislate proper attire.  Unless parents are willing to police what their children wear, no amount of censorship or any silly law is going to get between us and our Calvins (can you believe Brooke Shields is 43?). Our young trendsetters will continue to come up with new ideas, drumming to their own beat, unhindered by what’s lawful, proper or improper. And their ideas will be copied around the world, keeping factories working overtime in China.

By the way, I think Barack’s a briefs guy. You say boxers? 

NOW WHAT??

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The Return of Common Sense

Barack Obama is our President elect. 

I am so proud of what we have achieved tonight as a nation. 

Now we can put away our differences and reach across the aisle to put our country back on track. 

For the last few weeks I put my  life on hold for people like the nurse and her child that I drove to the right polling center tonight. 

Without a second thought I offered her a ride. and she enthusiastically accepted.  I drove her and her young son, Alex (who looked like the kid in "One and a half men") in a great hurry to the right precint.  We arrived without a second to spare. 

Fifteen minutes later she emerged from the polling  booth, beaming with happiness. 

She'd never voted before. 

Barack Obama was her candidate.  She told me on the way back.  I was glad.

Bradley Effect? Try Military Effect.

When Tom Bradley lost the '82 California governor's race, everyone blamed it on race.  He'd been ahead in the polls. 

The Bradley effect refers to those who vote for the white candidate, yet tell pollsters they're undecided or likely to vote for a black candidate before the election.

I have a wild theory that on this election we'll have a similar phenomena in the reverse.  The Military Effect.

Members of the military commonly say they'll vote for John McCain, but I have the feeling that many won't on this election.  But they speak the "party line" because supporting Barack Obama is often seen as unpatriotic, or disloyal at the very least, in their community.  A soldier in uniform can't afford to be perceived as disloyal. 

In the last couple of elections we've seen soldiers loyal to the Republican party as Hollywood is Democrat. Only a precious few retired military generals support the democratic ticket.  In fact, it took General Colin Powell a lifetime to speak his mind. I lost all respect for General Powell when he made the case for war in Iraq before Congress.  He knew better, yet he sacrificed his principles rather than resign.  But in all fairness, maybe he thought he'd serve his country better if he stayed the course.  Also, had he resigned, he'd been dismissed as unpatriotic. Reputation is everything, just ask President Bush.  I bet he'd give anything to get back his good reputation (you know, the "good reputation" he enjoyed right after 9/11).

And so young soldiers are likely to tell you what you expect to hear.  But don't take my word for it.  Ask a young soldier what s/he thinks of Colin Powell's switcharoo.  S/he'll tell you, very diplomatically, that everyone's entitled to their opinion.

No, they aren't.  Not when they have an entire career ahead of them.

I feel like a man. I voted.

"I feel like a man," said my 19 year old nephew after casting his ballot the other day. 

He'd waited on line three times to vote, each time having to leave for class or some other obligation. 

Finally he waited an hour and a half and did it.  He voted on each initiative, and chose among 13 presidential candidates, then spoke to me cogently about his choices. 

That little boy is now a man helping to shape this nation.  I'm so proud of him.

Pollwatching

The Clerk doesn’t seem to care for my presence inside the early voting site.  I’m a certified pollwatcher, a volunteer for Barack Obama, there to ensure every vote is counted.  I assume her focus is serving the hundreds of would-be voters that have been waiting on line for hours, many of them outside, under a hot sun.  It’s 2:00 PM and the temperature is in the 90’s, with high humidity. Paramedics are standing nearby, just in case.  The press waits to report something other than the long wait.

On my way in I’d noticed someone carrying an armful of bottled water and a dozen hands immediately going up.  The water was gone in seconds.  Some voters read the voluminous sample ballot as if studying for test.  An ancient woman was napping in a wheelchair while someone, perhaps her daughter, blocked the sun with a large black umbrella.

I introduced myself to the only other poll watcher inside.  He’s representing John McCain.  He’s young and dressed in a suit.  His hair is combed forward into a point resting in the middle of his forehead. I notice his briefcase embroidered with his candidate’s name on it.  He tells me he’s been there all day and everything has been going smoothly, except for the printers.  They keep breaking down.  A commotion disrupts our chit-chat.  The crowd has just learned the woman in the wheelchair is one hundred years old.   

“Where are the young people?” the McCain pollwatcher says. 

“I don’t know.”  I watch the older crowd of voters.  These voters have come prepared.  They’ve done their part.  I feel I need to do mine.  

By 6:30 PM the McCain pollwatcher leaves.  I stay.  The last voter leaves by 8 PM.  The poll had closed at 6:00.  I observe the running of the totals tape and the packing and sealing of the ballots in four plastic cases, which are then loaded onto a rented truck. I get my car and follow the truck a few blocks to a warehouse.  By 9:00 PM I watch the unloading of the ballots. 

On my way home I realize this is the most tedious and important job I’ve done in my entire life.

Cindy McCain should replace Sarah Palin

With just over a week until the election, John McCain could do no worse than to dump Sarah Palin and bring in Cindy McCain as his running mate.  Not only is Cindy smart and photogenic, but she has more practical and business experience than all the presidential and vice-presidential candidates put together. 

In fact, when John was too busy politicking in Washington, Cindy bore his children and single handedly raised them.  As the head of her own charity, she helped pick up the pieces after several disasters and wars.  She earns over a million dollars a year as Chair of her family’s beer distribution business, the largest in the nation.  She manages her ten homes and a few business complexes.  Oh, and she doesn't have to apologize for wearing a quarter million bucks on any given day. 

Cindy may look fragile and she might be media shy, but that’s not a bad thing.  She’s the real thing, and she's definetely a Washinton outsider (though there's the Keating thing still lurking outthere, but she'll get a pass for that, I promise). 

So, John, look no further than two steps behind you.  There stands a perfect Vice President and perhaps your best chance to win.

Sarah the thriller

You just can’t make this stuff up.  Well, I’ll try to envision what really happened there, how Neiman Marcus made Sarah Palin an action heroine.   This is not about how Sarah traded a strong moral fiber for ultra expensive threads. Others have already covered that territory.  

I think it all began when a Walmart tag stuck out of the neck of Sarah’s ill fitting striped jacket.  Poor Cindy McCaine was horrified.  Like the other rich heiress, Paris Hilton, she’d taught one could only shop for walls at “Wall Mart.” 

“They sell suits at Wall Mart?” Cindy said, unable to hide her distaste.  Thin saliva sprayed with each syllable.    

“You betcha!”  Sarah said with gusto, proud to show the rich waif a thing or two about substance over style.

“You can have both, you know? Substance AND style,” said Cindy, guessing correctly what went on inside Sarah’s predictable church force fed brain.  “No disrespect to you, Sarah, but you got some nice hidden assets sweetie, bring them out.”  Cindy pointed her manicured, bejeweled hand at Sarah’s milk engorged breasts.

And in less time than it took Sarah to say “Oh, I don’t know,” she found herself, champagne flute in hand, sitting in a gilt Louie XV chaise at Neiman Marcus, watching a parade of young Cindy look-alike models, wearing the latest fall fashions.  Properly bra fitted, Sarah’s girls stood up in attention like never before.  She felt like Barbarella, or Wonder Woman, ready for her action heroine costume.

“I can see you in that. “ Rialto, the only gay Republican stylist, said pointing with disdain.  An expert seamstress was on hand to alter the special suit. 

The next day Sarah gave a speech wearing a red leather jacket reminiscent of Michael Jackson in “Thriller.”

 No longer flying, Sarah’s been seen moonwalking around the country ever since.

Thank God Obama is not an Arab

An ancient woman grabs McCain’s microphone during one of his town meetings.

“I can't trust Obama," she says, sounding dazed and confused, her gray hair matted over her eyes. "I have read about him and he's not, he's not uh ... he's an Arab..."  

"No ma'am," McCain snatches the mike, turns his back at the woman. “He's a decent family man...citizen that I just happen to have disgreements with on fundamental issues, and that's what this campaign's all about.”

Translation: Arabs are not decent family men, or citizens.  We shouldn't trust them.  We should trust Obama because he's not...an Arab?

John, stick to the teleprompter, will you please?

November 5th, 2008 - Nightmare's Over

I’ve just awakened to a new day, full of joy and hope for the future.  My candidate has won by a landslide.  The story this morning is no longer about who won, but by how much. 

Half the political pundits are on their way to Alaska to go into torpor with the bears until spring, but I wouldn’t mind if they hibernated for the next four years, perhaps eight. 

The ringing of the opening bell at the stock exchange sounded heavenly this morning.  The entire world is on a buying spree, snatching bargains from real estate to blue chips, to whatever’s left on the aisle. 

The sun’s shining, the air is fresh, and two squirrels chase each other outside my window.  Coffee has never tasted so good.  I’ll probably take a nap and sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time knowing the world is in good hands.

Good thing I bought all those shares of GE. Oh, and I picked up Iceland (the country) for only a thousand bucks.

Tough economy? Don’t run with the pack.

I wish I could say that times like these are all bad, but they’re not. 

These times remind me of when the electricity goes out, and after a while people begin to come out of their homes like zombies.  And you meet some neighbors, the people you’ve been waiving hello from afar.  You realize how busy you’ve been, and so you share some candles and chat under a full moon, maybe do some networking. 

Speaking of networking, maybe you’ve been laid off recently.  You’re now competing with a thousand others for the only such job available within thirty miles. And so you hit a few dead ends until you realize you need to get out of your comfort zone.  You begin to get creative, use alternative means to find that elusive opportunity, that dream job. 

That happened to me a way back.  I was once watching TV and saw the city Mayor talking to the CEO of company where I wanted to work.  I’d tried to get a job there, but no one would even pick up the phone and cover letters with my resume never even got acknowledged.  Assuming they weren’t hiring, I gave up-- for a while.  Later learned they’d just been busy, after I decided to just show up and ask for the job. 

I still remember that day.  I came out of the elevator and recognized the CEO from TV, walking towards me with his entourage in tow.  “Do you have a minute?” I said.  He looked at me, confused, and inside that moment of hesitation I told him who I was and why I was there. 

“Come with me,” he said walking back in the direction of his office, where he handed me a file.  “I need someone to take this on, do you think you can?” I was so nervous I had no idea what I was reading, but I nodded. “You got the job,” he said and left.

McCain makes no sense

John McCain and "that one," sparred again last night during the second presidential debate.  By now you probably know who “that one” is.  Barack Obama.

When referring to an energy bill, McCain said "you know who voted for it? You might never know. That one," pointing at Barack Obama.  Ouch.  

You had to be there to feel the hurt.

But Obama was no wall flower.  He punched hard and returned each punch, even prompting NBC’s Tom Brokaw to remind him of the rules a couple of times.  Barack reminded me of Sarah Palin, who basically said during her debate with Joe Biden, “to hell with the rules, I’m going to say what I need to say.”

By the way, do you know who’s name McCain didn’t mention, not even once? Yeap.  Sarah’s.

What McCain didn’t bring up last night was just as important as what he did.  He brought up his friends across the aisle, beginning with Tip O’Neall, Russ Feingold, Ted Kennedy (told you he’s a Dem Hag), and what McCain debate would be complete without a mention of Joe Lieberman, the former Democrat? 

McCain never mentioned what Sarah’s been spewing about Obama and Bill Ayers.  And since McCain didn’t bring up Bill Ayers, Barack didn’t mention McCain’s dear friend Charles Keating, though he did mention McCain’s campaign manager, Rick Davis, and his little conflict of interest with Freddie Mac up until last month.  But it was McCain who first brought up Freddy Mac when he tried to pin our economic collapse on Obama, which is always laughable.

And speaking of Freddie Mac, McCain announced a “new” plan to rescue the economy.  He wishes to spend another $300 billion to reduce your bad mortgage to the current value of your home.  So, if your home value is more than your mortgage, if elected, McCain will pay the difference.  That ought to buy your vote, no? Except I thought that’s what the $700 billion was for.  So now the $700 billion will become a trillion dollars? What does McCain think, that money grows on trees?  Well, no, not trees but the Mint.

MCCain is in trouble and he knows it, but he can’t have his cake and eat it.

What are we to believe when he says he’ll freeze spending (except for vet benefits and the Iraq war, where we'll stay until we win, or hell freezes over, whichever comes first at a rate of $10 billion a month), and now he says he'll also spend another $300 billion fixing the mortgage problem.  Oh, and he also said he'll fix social security, health care and the energy problem, all at the same time.   And he'll cut taxes.  

McCain's promises make no sense.  But don’t take it from me, read the transcript yourself at

http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/07/presidential.debate.transcript/

Too big to fall. Too big to fail

As Gordon Gekko would say, "Greed, for luck of a better word, is good".   So, John McCain hires Rick Davis to be his campaign manager, exclusively.  John pays Rick $20,000 per month to whip his campaign into shape.  Rick delivers.  He puts McCain on top of the Republican ticket.  But there's a problem.   Rick's still collecting $15,000 a month from Freddie Mac.  What?  Isn't that a conflict of interests? And isn't Rick working "exclusively" for McCain? And isn't Freddie Mac one of those "too big to fail" companies we had to rescue?  Yes, yes and yes, but this is American politics.  So get over it.

Big fish like Rick Davis gets to keep his job and money.  It seems he finally gave up the Freddie Mac job last month.  What job? I'm not sure, but the New York Times reported that "Davis himself approached Freddie Mac in 2006 and asked for a new consulting arrangement that would allow his firm to continue to be paid. The arrangement was approved by Hollis McLoughlin, Freddie Mac's senior vice president for external relations, because "he [Davis] was John McCain's campaign manager and it was felt you couldn't say no," said one of the sources."  I guess that means Rick Davis was paid for his influence with McCain.

Rick didn't even get a slap on the wrist for this one.  He's still McCain's right hand man, the one telling Sarah to remove the gloves and pull up the stiletto boots.  In the meantime, Rick's collected millions of dollars to oppose (yes oppose), new federal regulations so Freddie Mac could buy more risky mortgage securities, which in the end brought it's downfall.  Last month we (the federal government) injected $100 billion into Freddie to keep it alive because Freddie was too big to fail (like AIG and Fannie Mae, where we sunk another $200 billion).  Freddie owns or guarantees about half of the twelve trillion dollar (yeah, trillion) mortgage market, the same kind of mortgages Henry Paulson will buying with the $700 billion we just gave him.  

The fact is Rick's too big to fall, just as Freddie Mac's too big to fail.