People in NY can live a delusional life even as its financial institutions are crumbling. I heard someone say to another: “These days, saving a couple hundred thousand dollars really makes a difference.” Meaning that saving that much two years ago wasn’t so important? Whaaaaaaat?
I keep thinking that I would love life so much more as a silent film.
May I eat the crumbs at your table?
I love Barney Frank. Not because I agree with everything he says and does. In fact, I often disagree with him. But you have to hand it to him when he appears on The Daily Show and says that the slogan for the Democrats in 2010 should be that the economy would have sucked worse without the recovery plan. Not a lot of spin there. Thank G-d for small favors.
Mitch McConnell is going crazy over the cost of health care, but he didn’t mind the reckless spending by the Bush administration. It was solid accounting not to include the gazillions of dollars for the Iraq war in the budget, but health care reform is too expensive. It is appalling how Republicans destroyed our surpluses; yet, it is galling that they won’t take responsibility for that and are instead pointing the finger at Obama who is trying to FIX THE MESS.
Back to health care. So far, I can afford top of the line health care, so this isn’t about my particular situation. But it is critical that we fix the problem.
Why? Because this is America, damn it, and it is a DISGRACE that, in such a rich and wonderful country, millions are not insured, health care is inadequate when available and illness will backrupt a family. The Bush administration gave over $700 billion to the banks without asking where it was going. But no GOP member wants to put at least that much into the health of the taxpayers? Let me remind you, members of the GOP, that the $700 billion was earned on the backs of those very taxpayers.
Failure is not an option. So, instead of criticizing the president’s plan, come up with a solution that works and not just some pander to big business.
Money won’t buy happiness, but it sure makes you comfortable in your misery.
Finding out someone I consider(ed) a friend is cheating on his spouse sent me into the rant that follows. (And I don’t mean a-blame-it-on-alcohol one night stand. I can understand one-time show of colossal stupidity or total lapse of judgment because we are human.)
Maybe I am so upset because, on local and national levels, I wonder where are our humanity and our personal and societal accountability?
Our economy has been destroyed by the greedy and power-hungry — really, if you all only cheated only a little, you would be fabulously rich and 30% of Americans wouldn’t be out of work, homeless, worrying about their jobs, without healthcare or any combo of these.
Our society has been co-opted by power hungry people who control by creating “Us”es and “Them”s — really, you could be kingmakers and then be high-paying pundits without starting a culture war and leaving our national principles among the casualties.
Our religions have been hijacked by radicalism — really, as Elvis Costello asked, what’s so funny about peace, love and understanding? What is wrong with our president’s middle name and his family heritage? And what if a man loved a man?
Our politics are populated by self-serving hypocrites — if you live in a glass house, be generous about the frailty of others lest you be fodder for the 24 hour news recycle. You might even get to do something for the Common Weal instead of the Singular Ego.
Maybe humanity starts with humility. Ok, so I guess that means I should not judge my (former) friend. Instead I should hope he finds his way back to his family. So, I have proved my point by being the very type of self satisfied pompous ass against whom I started this rant. Damn. I hate that.
I’ll plan on being humble tomorrow. Today, I will enjoy being the pompous ass. Because I am mad enough, I am tired enough and, gosh darn it, I am (sort of) good enough to rant today. Apologies to the Senator, formerly known as comedian, Al Franken.
So my partner and I celebrated ten years together by packing up for two nights/one day at a hotel in the city (no names, but it is in Tribeca and has the word Grand in the name). I bet it was meant to be a groovy, gritty and cool hotel. It was a little like being on the set of CSI: Whatever, where they all work in the dark. Obviously no one old enough to need bifocals has anything to do with these shows (other than Horatio who doesn’t have to move his body — just his arms to lift his sunglasses on and off his face). Is that why the guy on the original CSI had to leave? Maybe if someone turned up the lights. . .. But I digress. So, this place is so dimly lit that a normal person could walk into a wall or a draped wall, in this way too groovy place. The rooms had the same lighting issues. Oh, I get it. Eco-friendliness. Nah, not eco-friendliness on purpose. Dark, gritty cool — that was the intent. The rooms were tiny and had this post-apocalyptic decor. There was a sad goldfish in a stark bowl in the room because apparently rental pets soothe a person who is staying in a Mad-Max-Beyond-Thunderdome room.
The staff was young and beautiful. Clearly the only two criteria. Experience and manners, well, those are so old-school. Also old school are adequate lighting, cheery decor (which can be chic as well — think Design Within Reach) and chocolates with turn-down service. The economy is bad, I know, and I could give these people a few hints on customer service that might increase the rate of repeat customers. Hint no. 1: don’t scrimp on the chocolates.
I am one of the lucky ones. I am healthy and I have savings and I have a job. And I am scared out of my wits by this economic disaster.
I used to be steady and strong and now I feel powerless in this multi-faceted crisis. I am whipped around like an autumn leaf in the wind.
As long as you talk, Mr. President, I feel safe. But then I go to lectures and I read articles and watch the talking heads on the 24 shmews cycle and everyone has six different opinions and no answers. It is the consensus (from self-proclaimed “experts”) of the talking heads that that we are still in free fall although we’ve caught on to part of a ledge for now, and the problems cannot be fixed because they are not fixable without throwing out the system and starting over.
Please, Mr. President, and, please, members of Congress, don’t take political advantage. Save our nation, restore our faith, be tough with those of us who knowingly borrowed more than we could afford and, most especially, those who gamed the system and gambled away our livelihoods and futures.
Stop all the in-fighting. Write legislation that works and not that is merely expedient.
Dear President Obama:
I saw the tape of your hugging the woman with the terrible cancer problem at your town hall meeting. She seemed like she needed a hug. I don’t have cancer and I want a hug, too. But if I may, I’d like to offer some pointers on hug etiquette. My credentials on this subject are that I came from a hugging and kissing family.
It was a good starter as stranger-on-stranger hugs go. But you, Mr. President, are not a stranger to us. You are, like it or not, our Dad-in-Chief. Not just any dad. A Father Knows Best dad. So, you need a blend of the stranger hug (the tepid-two-second-and-pat-pat-pat-on-the-back hug) and the mourner’s hug (as if hugging your old friend who has just lost someone special). Let’s call it the I-get-it/I’m-here-for-you hug. I imagine it is at least a full-frontal ten-second hug, followed by a squeeze for emphasis.
I know you can do this, Mr. President. I can help you practice. When can I show up for my hug?
I don’t know when the phrase “staycation” moved into the lexicon, but my partner and I started about three years to go on a semi-annual weekend away in New York City (where we live) while trusted people stayed with our beloved little (ok not so little anymore) baby.
It was a vacation without travel hassles and delays, without time lost getting somewhere and we live in a one of the greatest cities. Also, we could be a cab ride away from our son or our fathers (who are widowers) should anything happen. What I really mean is that we would always be a cab ride away from any emergency room in Manhattan because I always imagine the worst. The old joke about a jewish mother’s calling a relative and saying, “worry! I will tell you later why,” captures my personality exactly. I can go from a stubbed toe to nuclear holocaust in 5 seconds. (If ,let’s say, Kim Dong Il stubs his toe and gets really mad, then he wants to lash out . . . . you see how this gets out of hand.) But, I digress.
So we love staycations. We also have vacations with our son. Let me be more precise. Prior to the Great Recession, we had staycations and vacations. Today we had a parkation. G-d bless the conservancies and public-private partnerships that keep our city parks and waterfronts habitable. I would humbly ask for more sanitary rest rooms, and I am grateful that I have a son so I don’t often have to yell, “squat!! NOOOOOO sitting!!”
the economy is getting better . . . if you believe that down is the new up.