Every once in a while, when I watch some random TV show, I find that I am touched in unusual ways. “Biggest Loser” is often inspiring. Any of the “Housewives”, is or are appalling. And, tonight I found Extreme Makeover embarrassing. I was not embarrassed by the show, it was great. It was embarrassing because they built a new place to house homeless women veterans. ABC had to do something for which the Pentagon refuses to take responsibility. They brought to the attention of the public, that there are numbers of women, who at no small emotional or financial cost, served their country.
They paid a visit to the White House, because the First Lady wanted to be involved in the project. Her special project is military families. So there she was, Michelle giving tours and hugs, speeches and even flags. Not that I am cynical about her motives, it was very moving. It would be nice if her involvement continued to bring the much needed public attention to the issue of homeless veterans and assisting families. What happened to the Veteran’s Benefits of yore. As the children of a disabled vet, my brother and I had scholarships to further our education and my parents got a check every month – this continued long after my Pop died. When did the financial support, emotional support, health benefits, and gratitude for those who served, disappear. It seems that rather than find ways to offer ongoing help to the vet, the DOD, is now in the business of finding ways to avoid having to provide support of any kind. Just look at the number of homeless vets, and the vets who are now in the criminal justice system –yes, they are in jail fo any number of reasons – all related to their service.
It was a bit disappointing to see the White House exploited by a commercial TV show. It was uncomfortable to watch Michelle’s appearances as the centerpiece of the program. It was also disconcerting to see the hosts running around on the lawn and insisting they couldn’t build a replica White House without talking to the curator. Many things were a bit over the top. However, the volunteers (local and military) were genuinely committed to helping with the building as well as the mega adjustments these courageous women must make.
Anyway, Whether you disagree with Government policy, it is important to recognize those who served. And even more important to insist that this “entitlement” needs to be protected, nurtured and visible and not with what we have come to know as political “clap trap”. We're just sayin'...Iris
Monday, September 26, 2011
They Don't Listen, Anyway...
Sarah Reidy, Gov. Huntsman’s Presidential scheduler had this to say after the first GOP debate, (which I felt was not a debate, but rather a blood letting). “For years I have tried to prove that the GOP isn’t the Party of elitist, stereotypical people that lack compassion. When did creativity and growth become secondary to hate? Hearing the debate crowds go crazy over things like executions and the uninsured dying makes me sick and sad for my Party.”
This is what my mother would say to make her feel a little more comfortable; “Sarah dear, what is, is. Your Mr. Huntsman seems a very nice person. Maybe you should both think about changing parties.”
When I get up in the morning and go to the office to work on some theater project, you can often hear me say, “Thank God, I’m not in Washington. Sure I miss my friends and neighbors, but I don’t miss the politics. Who would ever have thought that elected officials, as well as political candidates and campaigns, would have lost not only their civility, but more importantly, their sense of humor. Everyone is angry and ready to do battle – but no longer with injustice. They are ready to kill for ideology.” And when I say kill, I mean that. Ron Paul said that sick people (old, young) without means or health insurance could just die – which of course they unfortunately will. Who ever would have thought of Social Security, as a Ponzie scheme? Or post high school education for all our children, no longer a goal for a nation that is now playing catch up with countries who we consider third world. We do not build anything, including infra structure.
It makes me sad more than angry (although I have my moments). The question about what happens to our children, their children, and generations to follow, is most assuredly, who knows – but it seems like there is no good news.
When we were in elementary school we were afraid or polio and the Communists, mostly in the Soviet Union and Cuba. We were told that they were out to get us. They hated Democracy and Capitalism. When we got to college there were classes that taught us about how the Communist countries were supporting third and fourth world culture nations by sending money and teachers. If a child learned about Communism from the time they went to school, they would grow to be good Communists. Maybe that happened in Cuba, then came the web – the technological information age. People were no longer in the dark about opportunity and other systems of government. Access to information was a key. External influences brought them down, down, up.
This is not the case for the United States of America. The arrogance with which our elected officials act, is shameful, even mind boggling. (And in a moment of supreme Irony, I’m reminded of G W Bush during the 2000 Presidential debates who thought what this country really needed was “a more humble foreign policy.” Right. The desire to run for State or Federal office for the good of the nation or constituency, is a rarity, with some exceptions (who happen to be my friends). It’s all about power and the need to stuff their ideology up an opponent’s tuchas. (The throat is easy, the tuchas is painful).
And it doesn’t seem to matter whether the power grabber is a Republican, Democrat, Independent or Libertarian. They don’t have to worry about means, or their health. They are taken care of forever and ever. In fact, even if a Congress Person chooses not to run or loses an election, they get to keep all the money they have raised. And don’t get me started about the parking passes. (No parking space was always a deal breaker for me).
Although I am saddened by where we are now. I am hopeful that these things will change. That sometime in the near future we will do something we haven’t done for too many years --- vote for a candidate instead of against someone who we think is a dope. We're just sayin'.... Iris
This is what my mother would say to make her feel a little more comfortable; “Sarah dear, what is, is. Your Mr. Huntsman seems a very nice person. Maybe you should both think about changing parties.”
When I get up in the morning and go to the office to work on some theater project, you can often hear me say, “Thank God, I’m not in Washington. Sure I miss my friends and neighbors, but I don’t miss the politics. Who would ever have thought that elected officials, as well as political candidates and campaigns, would have lost not only their civility, but more importantly, their sense of humor. Everyone is angry and ready to do battle – but no longer with injustice. They are ready to kill for ideology.” And when I say kill, I mean that. Ron Paul said that sick people (old, young) without means or health insurance could just die – which of course they unfortunately will. Who ever would have thought of Social Security, as a Ponzie scheme? Or post high school education for all our children, no longer a goal for a nation that is now playing catch up with countries who we consider third world. We do not build anything, including infra structure.
It makes me sad more than angry (although I have my moments). The question about what happens to our children, their children, and generations to follow, is most assuredly, who knows – but it seems like there is no good news.
When we were in elementary school we were afraid or polio and the Communists, mostly in the Soviet Union and Cuba. We were told that they were out to get us. They hated Democracy and Capitalism. When we got to college there were classes that taught us about how the Communist countries were supporting third and fourth world culture nations by sending money and teachers. If a child learned about Communism from the time they went to school, they would grow to be good Communists. Maybe that happened in Cuba, then came the web – the technological information age. People were no longer in the dark about opportunity and other systems of government. Access to information was a key. External influences brought them down, down, up.
This is not the case for the United States of America. The arrogance with which our elected officials act, is shameful, even mind boggling. (And in a moment of supreme Irony, I’m reminded of G W Bush during the 2000 Presidential debates who thought what this country really needed was “a more humble foreign policy.” Right. The desire to run for State or Federal office for the good of the nation or constituency, is a rarity, with some exceptions (who happen to be my friends). It’s all about power and the need to stuff their ideology up an opponent’s tuchas. (The throat is easy, the tuchas is painful).
And it doesn’t seem to matter whether the power grabber is a Republican, Democrat, Independent or Libertarian. They don’t have to worry about means, or their health. They are taken care of forever and ever. In fact, even if a Congress Person chooses not to run or loses an election, they get to keep all the money they have raised. And don’t get me started about the parking passes. (No parking space was always a deal breaker for me).
Although I am saddened by where we are now. I am hopeful that these things will change. That sometime in the near future we will do something we haven’t done for too many years --- vote for a candidate instead of against someone who we think is a dope. We're just sayin'.... Iris
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Social Network: the REAL One
Last year when Jesse Eisenberg starred in the film depicting the rise of Facebook, anyone over the age of 10 could figure out that no matter how fine tuned the details of the film were, it certainly FELT like it was a fairly true rendition of those events. In a nutshell, a socially awkward geek figures out how to create online connections between people of vaguely similar interests. The film might have had any number of titles: “Poking the Ethers,” “My Face, Your Book,” or even just “Facebook Rising.” But instead, the producers chose to simply call it “The Social Network,” an almost generic name for a very specific project. And when we would mention the movie to each other in polite conversation, invariably “The” would be dropped; you’d simply say “…wasn’t Social Network spot on about ….” It’s a term that aside from sociologists or anthropologists, none of us would have used in the course of a normal week until the last half decade. It implies in a very obvious way, the interaction of humans, and in today’s context, it’s understood that this particular interaction has nothing to do with a breathing, living, drinking, exhaling, farting, grunting human being within … say… arms range. No, more precisely it refers to those people to whom you are ‘attached’ via certain interests, causes, and other similar traits in an online forum. It might be an interest in Libertarian politics, or cooking with shallots, or the neo-ancient art of wet-plate photography. The actual interaction takes place with a keyboard, a screen, and maybe a mouse or track pad, or if you’re newly hip and withit, maybe a forefinger on an iPad. It is merely perceived interaction. I can’t actually think of a case where modern day social networking is practiced without a computer-like device of some kind. Many of us have an aversion to sharing what we see as “private” information, and those folks tend to either not congregate on Facebook, or if they do, they don’t post a lot of thoughts/links/pictures. They are more browsers of other peoples’ pages than providers of their own. And then there are the kind of folks, and yes we all know them, who feel that Facebook is a place where every little scintilla of their lives should be shared. I’m constantly astonished by people who have incredibly slow conversations (you know, one sentence at a time, back and forth the over a day, or sometimes many days) about the most personal of things. One I recall was from someone who engaged in an open “chat” with her son about whether or not a certain doctor had a sympathetic bedside manner. The son had seen the doctor, and found him rather pushy. The mom “had never seen him be anything but nice.” They went on back and forth for a couple of days, till I finally was obliged to defriend her. I like her still, but I cannot keep up with the minutae of her life. Nor do I really want to. Hers is a network I don’t actually feel any obligation to be a part of. We try and choose those elements of networkness which work for us. But the last ten years have thrown a real wrench into how photographers view their work and yes, their own Social Networks.
There was a time (dare I call it the “golden age” of photojournalism?) when we photographers all still worked with that dainty and quaint material known as film. You loaded it into the camera, shot some modest amount of photos (normally 12 or 36) and then you would stuff the films into a big caption envelope, wrap it up in a bigger envelope and do one of three things: hand it off in the back of the union hall to a local messenger; leave it at the front desk of the hotel for a pick up by some anonymous courier, or drop it in a Fedex office, confident that the next morning said envelope would end up on your editor’s desk. Oh, how we long for those days. Having entered what could now be referred to as the “silicon age” of photography our lives have changed in ways we could never have imagined. Even back in the ‘golden age’ there were times when you would, usually a week after you’d shot something, pick up the magazine with your work in it. Sometimes it would turn around more quickly but often it was at least a week. You’d open the pages with great anticipation to see just what “New York” had done with your handiwork, only to discover, 5 times out of 6, that they’d chosen some crummy rendition of what you’d photographed, and completely missed the point. The first reaction would often be something like “geez, I sure wish I’d been able to edit that stuff before they got their mitts on it.” The unlikely idea of having the chance to edit our own material on deadline seemed about as likely as pigs flying. And I don’t mean the pigs that DO fly.
It was one of those pipe dreams, having that extra element of control over our work. Well, as they say, be careful what you ask for, as the ‘silicon age’ of photography started to change virtually everything. Memory cards were the new film. The need for those big caption envelopes disappeared almost over night. By 2003 the new digital reflex cameras started combining the quality, speed, and ease of use which would in a matter of a few years, render most film cameras to antique status. I’m speaking really of photojournalists who by definition are obligated to get their work to the “desk” as soon as they can. If you work for a wire service (like “A.P.”) you have rolling deadlines around the world that never end. As websites began to become popular and ubiquitous more unending deadlines would appear. The constant appetite for pictures created that giant sucking sound which you thought was jobs going to Mexico. No, it was just the world wide demand for photos, pulling them through the air towards a million websites.
What has it all ended up meaning for us poor photographers? Well, it means that at the end of a long day of shooting (14 hours on a Presidential campaign wouldn’t be unusual) instead of dropping the film in an envelope and heading out to grab dinner, you are stuck in your hotel room, transferring that day’s pictures to your laptop, editing them on the spot (oh, lucky us, we get to EDIT our own work!) and sending them on the ‘net to whatever the mother ship was, wire service, newspaper, or magazine. Even if you are quick, it adds another 2 to 4 hours to the day, sometimes more. You might get to bed before midnight, and wow, that tuna salad with the soggy bread the Room Service folks sent up really hit the spot. More often than not you jolt yourself awake, having just collapsed on the laptop keyboard with the bbbbbbbbbbbb key running amok on your screen.
The point is, for all the upside that digital has given us (basically it’s one thing: Speed) there are enormous downsides. For one, I remain isolated from my peers and pals, stuck in my room with MSNBC or Espn in the background while I try and wade through the pictures. What would I prefer? It’s easy: bring back the OLD Social Network. No, not Mark Zuckerberg’s version. The one that started operating just after my film was dropped off in its handy large envelope. The one that got us all together at the end of a long day of shooting politics, and gave us a chance to talk for a couple of hours over something more groovy than soggy tuna salad. The one that let us discuss what we had seen, what it meant, what tomorrow’s changes might be, and what sort of things we need to be on the lookout for. The one that actually let us be a social animal for a change. Talk, listen, talk, listen. That’s what real social networking ought to be about. Not clack-clack-clack-click-click-click. The kind that use a knife and fork instead of a mouse. A beer glass instead of a track pad. I want to be able to talk face to face with the sort of folks who, yes, I might “Friend” on FB. But more importantly I’d prefer spending some of that “upload, edit, and transmit” time with people whose opinions I value, and wisdom I trust.
In the world of the press photographer, those days seem to have just frittered away. You can spend all the time you want looking at your News Feed on Facebook, and updating your profiles on LinkedIn. I’ll try and get around to some of that stuff, but for me, the real Social Network, the one that makes me what I am, and helps me to be something better, is the round table at the pub, with a bunch of tired photoJ’s, their cameras piled in metallic mounds nearby, with a pitcher of Sam Adams being happily shared. We’re just sayin’….David
There was a time (dare I call it the “golden age” of photojournalism?) when we photographers all still worked with that dainty and quaint material known as film. You loaded it into the camera, shot some modest amount of photos (normally 12 or 36) and then you would stuff the films into a big caption envelope, wrap it up in a bigger envelope and do one of three things: hand it off in the back of the union hall to a local messenger; leave it at the front desk of the hotel for a pick up by some anonymous courier, or drop it in a Fedex office, confident that the next morning said envelope would end up on your editor’s desk. Oh, how we long for those days. Having entered what could now be referred to as the “silicon age” of photography our lives have changed in ways we could never have imagined. Even back in the ‘golden age’ there were times when you would, usually a week after you’d shot something, pick up the magazine with your work in it. Sometimes it would turn around more quickly but often it was at least a week. You’d open the pages with great anticipation to see just what “New York” had done with your handiwork, only to discover, 5 times out of 6, that they’d chosen some crummy rendition of what you’d photographed, and completely missed the point. The first reaction would often be something like “geez, I sure wish I’d been able to edit that stuff before they got their mitts on it.” The unlikely idea of having the chance to edit our own material on deadline seemed about as likely as pigs flying. And I don’t mean the pigs that DO fly.
It was one of those pipe dreams, having that extra element of control over our work. Well, as they say, be careful what you ask for, as the ‘silicon age’ of photography started to change virtually everything. Memory cards were the new film. The need for those big caption envelopes disappeared almost over night. By 2003 the new digital reflex cameras started combining the quality, speed, and ease of use which would in a matter of a few years, render most film cameras to antique status. I’m speaking really of photojournalists who by definition are obligated to get their work to the “desk” as soon as they can. If you work for a wire service (like “A.P.”) you have rolling deadlines around the world that never end. As websites began to become popular and ubiquitous more unending deadlines would appear. The constant appetite for pictures created that giant sucking sound which you thought was jobs going to Mexico. No, it was just the world wide demand for photos, pulling them through the air towards a million websites.
What has it all ended up meaning for us poor photographers? Well, it means that at the end of a long day of shooting (14 hours on a Presidential campaign wouldn’t be unusual) instead of dropping the film in an envelope and heading out to grab dinner, you are stuck in your hotel room, transferring that day’s pictures to your laptop, editing them on the spot (oh, lucky us, we get to EDIT our own work!) and sending them on the ‘net to whatever the mother ship was, wire service, newspaper, or magazine. Even if you are quick, it adds another 2 to 4 hours to the day, sometimes more. You might get to bed before midnight, and wow, that tuna salad with the soggy bread the Room Service folks sent up really hit the spot. More often than not you jolt yourself awake, having just collapsed on the laptop keyboard with the bbbbbbbbbbbb key running amok on your screen.
The point is, for all the upside that digital has given us (basically it’s one thing: Speed) there are enormous downsides. For one, I remain isolated from my peers and pals, stuck in my room with MSNBC or Espn in the background while I try and wade through the pictures. What would I prefer? It’s easy: bring back the OLD Social Network. No, not Mark Zuckerberg’s version. The one that started operating just after my film was dropped off in its handy large envelope. The one that got us all together at the end of a long day of shooting politics, and gave us a chance to talk for a couple of hours over something more groovy than soggy tuna salad. The one that let us discuss what we had seen, what it meant, what tomorrow’s changes might be, and what sort of things we need to be on the lookout for. The one that actually let us be a social animal for a change. Talk, listen, talk, listen. That’s what real social networking ought to be about. Not clack-clack-clack-click-click-click. The kind that use a knife and fork instead of a mouse. A beer glass instead of a track pad. I want to be able to talk face to face with the sort of folks who, yes, I might “Friend” on FB. But more importantly I’d prefer spending some of that “upload, edit, and transmit” time with people whose opinions I value, and wisdom I trust.
In the world of the press photographer, those days seem to have just frittered away. You can spend all the time you want looking at your News Feed on Facebook, and updating your profiles on LinkedIn. I’ll try and get around to some of that stuff, but for me, the real Social Network, the one that makes me what I am, and helps me to be something better, is the round table at the pub, with a bunch of tired photoJ’s, their cameras piled in metallic mounds nearby, with a pitcher of Sam Adams being happily shared. We’re just sayin’….David
Monday, September 19, 2011
What is there to do
When there were no cell phones, did we still love everyone. did the 'love you, bye', just happen or was there a time when goodbye meant the end of the conversation, rather than a plea to confirm ongoing feelings. And just because you say, "bye, I love you"' does it actually mean, the call is over but I still want us to have a relationship.
don't get the wrong idea. It is not a problem for me to hear, "love you", regardless of the circumstances. For sure it is more meaningful than "I'm hanging up now, ugly pig snot". But when I hear it from people who I neither know or care about, I always find myself thinking, "geez, what do they say to people they really love? Or, maybe they don't have anyone to love, and because they say it to everyone, they never have to admit to that. This is getting far to deep, although, let me just say,(how could you stop me and just wait, I'm about to write a piece about the beauty of Colorado and the horror of the White House.) prefer a more committed sign off, like, I love you. or I miss you desperately, or, I cannot breathe without hearing you voice.
Mom, and her sisters, never said goodbye when they hung up the phone. And I can't remember a time when they ever actually told any of their kids that they loved us. Oh, there was always a kiss hello and goodbye, but "love you"' not that I can remember, they simply hung up the phone. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of a sentence or a conversation. However, we were never surprised if they picked up the conversation right where they left off, and expected you to remember what they had been saying.
In my new role as theatrical producer, I traveled to Boulder to see rehearsals for my latest production, " Slow Dance With a Hot Pick Up." It's a delightful show. Fresh, innovative, and musically worth the price of a ticket-- to what I would call, not your grandma's dinner theater. It is simply a wonderful way to spend an evening and support the arts, as well as keeping your budget in check.
Enough good news, let's talk about the White House. Ron Suskind has put down on paper what everyone who knows the players, has been in an Administration, or has friend on the inside, already knows. In 2008, I wrote a blob about the language used to announce employment in the new Obama Administration. "I'm going in" they would say--like they were going to prison. At that time, I felt this was somewhat telling. This new opportunity to serve the President and the public, was not an honor. It was a way to measure power and ego, and presented by those lucky enough to be chosen, as a punishment.
If you worked on "women's issues" (women know that all issues are women"s issues- whether it be war, childcare, or the economy), during the campaign, it became obvious very quickly, to all of the experienced female political operatives, that this group of "smart ass white boys", would create a hostile environment, for all the "girls", except Mrs Obama and Valerie Jarrod.
People in senior positions in the Clinton Administration, were often reluctant to fire anyone -- except the President, who threw any number of friends under the bus. And although we thought that wasn't nice, at least it sent the signal that right or wrong, having been Bill's friend before he got to the White House, was not a guarantee for a Presidential Appointment. So this President needs to stop surrounding himself with people who tell him what he wants to hear, and find a few people who will kick ass and get the government back on track. Firing people (even if you like them) for the good of the nation is as important as asking Congress to support a policy. We're just sayin... Iris
don't get the wrong idea. It is not a problem for me to hear, "love you", regardless of the circumstances. For sure it is more meaningful than "I'm hanging up now, ugly pig snot". But when I hear it from people who I neither know or care about, I always find myself thinking, "geez, what do they say to people they really love? Or, maybe they don't have anyone to love, and because they say it to everyone, they never have to admit to that. This is getting far to deep, although, let me just say,(how could you stop me and just wait, I'm about to write a piece about the beauty of Colorado and the horror of the White House.) prefer a more committed sign off, like, I love you. or I miss you desperately, or, I cannot breathe without hearing you voice.
Mom, and her sisters, never said goodbye when they hung up the phone. And I can't remember a time when they ever actually told any of their kids that they loved us. Oh, there was always a kiss hello and goodbye, but "love you"' not that I can remember, they simply hung up the phone. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of a sentence or a conversation. However, we were never surprised if they picked up the conversation right where they left off, and expected you to remember what they had been saying.
In my new role as theatrical producer, I traveled to Boulder to see rehearsals for my latest production, " Slow Dance With a Hot Pick Up." It's a delightful show. Fresh, innovative, and musically worth the price of a ticket-- to what I would call, not your grandma's dinner theater. It is simply a wonderful way to spend an evening and support the arts, as well as keeping your budget in check.
Enough good news, let's talk about the White House. Ron Suskind has put down on paper what everyone who knows the players, has been in an Administration, or has friend on the inside, already knows. In 2008, I wrote a blob about the language used to announce employment in the new Obama Administration. "I'm going in" they would say--like they were going to prison. At that time, I felt this was somewhat telling. This new opportunity to serve the President and the public, was not an honor. It was a way to measure power and ego, and presented by those lucky enough to be chosen, as a punishment.
If you worked on "women's issues" (women know that all issues are women"s issues- whether it be war, childcare, or the economy), during the campaign, it became obvious very quickly, to all of the experienced female political operatives, that this group of "smart ass white boys", would create a hostile environment, for all the "girls", except Mrs Obama and Valerie Jarrod.
People in senior positions in the Clinton Administration, were often reluctant to fire anyone -- except the President, who threw any number of friends under the bus. And although we thought that wasn't nice, at least it sent the signal that right or wrong, having been Bill's friend before he got to the White House, was not a guarantee for a Presidential Appointment. So this President needs to stop surrounding himself with people who tell him what he wants to hear, and find a few people who will kick ass and get the government back on track. Firing people (even if you like them) for the good of the nation is as important as asking Congress to support a policy. We're just sayin... Iris
When there were no cell phones, did we still love everyone. did the love you, bye, just happen or was there a time when goodbye meant the end of the conversation, rather than a plea to confirm ongoing feelings. And just because you say, "bye, I love you"' does it actually mean, the call is over but I still want us to have a relationship.
don't get the wrong idea. It is not a problem for me to hear, "love you", regardless of the circumstances. For sure it is more meaningful than "I'm hanging up now, ugly pig snot". But when I hear it from people who I neither know or care about, I always find myself thinking, "geez, what do they say to people they really love? Or, maybe they don't have anyone to love, and because they say it to everyone, they never have to admit to that. This is getting far to deep, although, let me just say,(how could you stop me and just wait, I'm about to write a piece about the beauty of Colorado and the horror of the White House.)prefer a more committed sign off, like, I love you. or I miss you desperately, or, I cannot breathe without hearing you voice.
Mom, and her sisters, never said goodbye when they hung up the phone. And I can't remember a time when they ever actually told any of their kids that they loved us. Oh, there was always a kiss hello and goodbye, but "love you"' not that I can remember.
they simply hung up the phone. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of a sentence or a conversation. however, we were never surprised if they picked up the conversation right where they left off, and expected you to remember what they had been saying.
In my new role a theatrical producer, I traveled to Boulder to see rehearsals for my latest production, " Slow Dance With a Hot Pick Up." It's a delightful show. Fresh, innovative, and musically worth the price of a ticket-- to what I would call, not your grandma's dinner theater. It is simply a wonderful way to spend an evening and support the arts, as well as keeping your budget in check.
Enough good news, let's talk about the White House. Ron Suskind has put down on paper what everyone who knows the players, has been in an Administration, or has friend on the inside, already knows. In 2008, I wrote a blob about the language used to announce employment in the new Obama Administration. "I'm going in" they would say--like they were going to prison.
At that time, I felt this was somewhat telling. This new opportunity to serve the President and the public, was not an honor. It was a way to measure power and ego, and presented by those lucky enough to be chosen, as a punishment.
If you worked on "women's issues" (women know that all issues are womens issues- whether it be war, childcare, or the economy), during the campaign, it became obvious very quickly, to all of the experienced political operatives, that this group of "smart ass white boys", would create a hostile environment, for all the "girls", except Mrs Obama and Valerie Jarrod.
People in senior positions in the Clinton Administration, were often reluctant to fire anyone -- except the President, who threw any number of friends under the bus. And although we thought that wasn't nice, at least it sent the signal that right or wrong, having been Bill's friend before he got to the White House, was not a guarantee for a Presidential Appointment. one
don't get the wrong idea. It is not a problem for me to hear, "love you", regardless of the circumstances. For sure it is more meaningful than "I'm hanging up now, ugly pig snot". But when I hear it from people who I neither know or care about, I always find myself thinking, "geez, what do they say to people they really love? Or, maybe they don't have anyone to love, and because they say it to everyone, they never have to admit to that. This is getting far to deep, although, let me just say,(how could you stop me and just wait, I'm about to write a piece about the beauty of Colorado and the horror of the White House.)prefer a more committed sign off, like, I love you. or I miss you desperately, or, I cannot breathe without hearing you voice.
Mom, and her sisters, never said goodbye when they hung up the phone. And I can't remember a time when they ever actually told any of their kids that they loved us. Oh, there was always a kiss hello and goodbye, but "love you"' not that I can remember.
they simply hung up the phone. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of a sentence or a conversation. however, we were never surprised if they picked up the conversation right where they left off, and expected you to remember what they had been saying.
In my new role a theatrical producer, I traveled to Boulder to see rehearsals for my latest production, " Slow Dance With a Hot Pick Up." It's a delightful show. Fresh, innovative, and musically worth the price of a ticket-- to what I would call, not your grandma's dinner theater. It is simply a wonderful way to spend an evening and support the arts, as well as keeping your budget in check.
Enough good news, let's talk about the White House. Ron Suskind has put down on paper what everyone who knows the players, has been in an Administration, or has friend on the inside, already knows. In 2008, I wrote a blob about the language used to announce employment in the new Obama Administration. "I'm going in" they would say--like they were going to prison.
At that time, I felt this was somewhat telling. This new opportunity to serve the President and the public, was not an honor. It was a way to measure power and ego, and presented by those lucky enough to be chosen, as a punishment.
If you worked on "women's issues" (women know that all issues are womens issues- whether it be war, childcare, or the economy), during the campaign, it became obvious very quickly, to all of the experienced political operatives, that this group of "smart ass white boys", would create a hostile environment, for all the "girls", except Mrs Obama and Valerie Jarrod.
People in senior positions in the Clinton Administration, were often reluctant to fire anyone -- except the President, who threw any number of friends under the bus. And although we thought that wasn't nice, at least it sent the signal that right or wrong, having been Bill's friend before he got to the White House, was not a guarantee for a Presidential Appointment. one
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
It's Raining It's Pouring, and That's the Good News
When I peruse my Facebook page, I am always amazed at the number of people I know who are connected to me, but not with me as the common denominator. Is that too confusing. Oh well, It's a small world, isn't it... la la la la la ?
Not that you asked, but here's what I did today. It was raining - sometimes just a drizzle and occasionally, big fat drops. So I walked for hours, mostly without an umbrella. And I thought about a number of things.
The first was David's birthday. As a gift, I decided to let him go to a photo event unencumbered by his photo ignorant wife. Am I special, or what? Two, was the Republican debate, but that was actually one and a half. Two was President's speech. No matter how eloquent and comprehensive the speech turns out to be, the White House has set the bar so high (by making an inordinate number of stupid decisions), that there is no way to measure it's success or failure. Did anyone in the scheduling office get fired for the dumb ass consequences the President suffered a a result of their incompetence?
That being said, people have written to ask me if I have deserted the Democratic Party. And I have honestly answered, that I don't know if there is a Democratic Party anymore. The party that fought for women's rights, human rights, civil rights, universal health care, respecting the environment and not fighting any foolish war or wars. The party that understood the needs of the poor and did not condemn people for living out the American Dream.. If someone like Pataki ran for President, would I think about voting for a Republican? Well, it's going to be hard for me to vote for a Democratic President who doesn't know what it means to be a Democrat. So the truth is, I don't know.
In 1972, I worked for McGovern in Massachussetts, the only state where he won in the primaries. I am (and proud of it) a McGovern Democrat. With so many friends, we worked tirelessly for issues that made our lives better. We wanted peace, human rights, fairness in taxation, education for everyone who wanted it, jobs, representation for labor, and yes, "choice." No one I know, who had to have an illegal abortion or was involved with someone who did, (yes again, some were my best friends), would ever think about interfering with a woman's right to choose.
Today, I heard that the President was reshaping his image, cleaning house, and ready to fight the Tea Party on his own terms - whatever that means. I am not optimistic that anyone working in the White House, (including Chief of Staff Daley), has any idea how to turn things around. Nor am I convinced that the President's advisors (that seems an oxymoron) really think it's necessary. I will watch the Republican debate because I've always been fascinated by horror shows. And I will listen to the President's plan for putting people back to work because I adore science fiction. But to be honest I would be just as happily entertained by reading Broadway.com, and Variety. We're Just Sayin... Iris
Not that you asked, but here's what I did today. It was raining - sometimes just a drizzle and occasionally, big fat drops. So I walked for hours, mostly without an umbrella. And I thought about a number of things.
The first was David's birthday. As a gift, I decided to let him go to a photo event unencumbered by his photo ignorant wife. Am I special, or what? Two, was the Republican debate, but that was actually one and a half. Two was President's speech. No matter how eloquent and comprehensive the speech turns out to be, the White House has set the bar so high (by making an inordinate number of stupid decisions), that there is no way to measure it's success or failure. Did anyone in the scheduling office get fired for the dumb ass consequences the President suffered a a result of their incompetence?
That being said, people have written to ask me if I have deserted the Democratic Party. And I have honestly answered, that I don't know if there is a Democratic Party anymore. The party that fought for women's rights, human rights, civil rights, universal health care, respecting the environment and not fighting any foolish war or wars. The party that understood the needs of the poor and did not condemn people for living out the American Dream.. If someone like Pataki ran for President, would I think about voting for a Republican? Well, it's going to be hard for me to vote for a Democratic President who doesn't know what it means to be a Democrat. So the truth is, I don't know.
In 1972, I worked for McGovern in Massachussetts, the only state where he won in the primaries. I am (and proud of it) a McGovern Democrat. With so many friends, we worked tirelessly for issues that made our lives better. We wanted peace, human rights, fairness in taxation, education for everyone who wanted it, jobs, representation for labor, and yes, "choice." No one I know, who had to have an illegal abortion or was involved with someone who did, (yes again, some were my best friends), would ever think about interfering with a woman's right to choose.
Today, I heard that the President was reshaping his image, cleaning house, and ready to fight the Tea Party on his own terms - whatever that means. I am not optimistic that anyone working in the White House, (including Chief of Staff Daley), has any idea how to turn things around. Nor am I convinced that the President's advisors (that seems an oxymoron) really think it's necessary. I will watch the Republican debate because I've always been fascinated by horror shows. And I will listen to the President's plan for putting people back to work because I adore science fiction. But to be honest I would be just as happily entertained by reading Broadway.com, and Variety. We're Just Sayin... Iris
Friday, September 02, 2011
Now, I'm Pissed....
Now I’m just pissed. The most important thing you can do a political technician is to check the schedule. Like you never schedule anything for a candidate, or the President of the United States, unless you have checked to see what else is going in the entire United States, that might intefere with your plans – such as the Republican debate (which has been scheduled forever) or the opening of football season, which comes to no one as a surprise. It’s like this White House cannot get out of its own way. First of all, if you knew there was going to be a Republican debate, why would you ever schedule the President to precede them, giving all of them an opportunity to comment (and snarkily so) of what you have said.
A joint session of Congress? What a weenie way out. A. You better have something to say. B. You better have something to say. Why not just address the public with whatever your ideas happen to be. Why not just say, “this is what I wanted to propose to the Congress, but they wouldn’t give ma a chance to do it.” Why not just kick a little ass.
Once again, the President looks like a jerk. Who in the world would schedule something at a time when there are other more interesting things going on—like a debate or the opening of football season. You wouldn’t unless your people were so incompetent or so out of touch that they had no idea there were other priorities.
Over the last few months I have found myself thinking, ‘why are we still in Afganistan,’ and ‘why are we bombing Libya, and why are we celebrating no deaths in Iraq this month.’ Why are we allowing people in this country to go without food, lose their homes, find it impossible to get jobs, and deal with a crumbling infrastructure, while we are rebuilding a country that doesn’t even want us to be there. Where are our priorities? Where is our heart?
OK oil companies, drug companies and big corporations can make all the money they want, but how do they see the poverty (poor working people) in this great Nation, and turn their backs. Yep, I am pissed. All the years of public service and political activism and we have come to a place where there is little if no civility among our elected officials, and where we can watch people lose their homes and starve to death.
When I was a young divorced mother, I lived in a car. It was not much fun. And I have always been mindful of the fact that I could wind up there again. As someone who spent a whole career in public service, I can tell you this – shame on us. Just shame on all of us. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
A joint session of Congress? What a weenie way out. A. You better have something to say. B. You better have something to say. Why not just address the public with whatever your ideas happen to be. Why not just say, “this is what I wanted to propose to the Congress, but they wouldn’t give ma a chance to do it.” Why not just kick a little ass.
Once again, the President looks like a jerk. Who in the world would schedule something at a time when there are other more interesting things going on—like a debate or the opening of football season. You wouldn’t unless your people were so incompetent or so out of touch that they had no idea there were other priorities.
Over the last few months I have found myself thinking, ‘why are we still in Afganistan,’ and ‘why are we bombing Libya, and why are we celebrating no deaths in Iraq this month.’ Why are we allowing people in this country to go without food, lose their homes, find it impossible to get jobs, and deal with a crumbling infrastructure, while we are rebuilding a country that doesn’t even want us to be there. Where are our priorities? Where is our heart?
OK oil companies, drug companies and big corporations can make all the money they want, but how do they see the poverty (poor working people) in this great Nation, and turn their backs. Yep, I am pissed. All the years of public service and political activism and we have come to a place where there is little if no civility among our elected officials, and where we can watch people lose their homes and starve to death.
When I was a young divorced mother, I lived in a car. It was not much fun. And I have always been mindful of the fact that I could wind up there again. As someone who spent a whole career in public service, I can tell you this – shame on us. Just shame on all of us. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
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