What the media and the public don’t understand is that Drump knows exactly what he’s doing. For example, now all the Drump supporters will feel bad for “Oh poor Ivanka” (lets be honest, my mother in law said it a long time ago, “Ivanka is a stupid name.” ) and look for her clothing line. Her father is not stupid - he got two days of free publicity for the line. Kelly Anne, did exactly what he wanted her to do. Did he take her to task for her ethical mishaps? Don’t be ridiculous. He probably asked her to do it. The Drump Administration along with most of the Republican House and Senate in ages, have lost their moral core. The Drump journey cannot be separated from the appointees or elected officials.
Not to distract from my rantings, but today the officer in the TSA Precheck line searched my sparkly bag, which I told him looked very nice on him. They saw something. What could there be in that bag I thought? After taking everything out of the bag and spreading it all over his station he finally found the culprit — the Metamucel. He held it up, opened it and poured some out. Remember the first time you went to the drugstore to buy sanitary napkins or rubbers? You thought you would never get over the embarrassment. Such was the feeling today. Does everyone in the airport need to know I don't have regular bowel movements? It seems they do.
Politics has been a big part of my life mostly because it gave me the opportunity to meet so many terrific people and then meet wonderful people through those people. Yesterday I found the daughter of one of my dearest political friends. Another nice story about what political relationships used to mean. Among other things, those friends were loyal, caring, insightful, committed to positive change and yes, loving. Sure there was sex on the campaign trail but that’s not what I mean. Although my X (the sperm donor - that’s how we refer to him because he did give me a great kid), once accused me of giving blo jobs in back seats — now you know why he’s my X. All those years ago, in the light ages, (these are the dark ages), when you could count on the friends you made in the campaign. When I arrived in DC, unencumbered by money, a job, or a place to live, the one possession I took with me, was my Fiat 500 Station wagon. It wasn’t much of a vehicle. It was small, you could say tiny because that would not be an exaggeration. But it was big enough to sleep in. And that’s what happened. I slept in my car on Capitol Hill, close to some hotels so I could clean up for job interviews. On occasion, when I wanted to take a shower, I would swing by my pals, Jane and Wes — they had a great house, a great kid and a shower. At some point Jane asked where I was staying that didn’t have a shower. When my answer was my car, they insisted I move in with them until I could find a job and somewhere to live. It was an incredible experience. They were early civil rights activists, so the frequent parties we had were populated with their friends like Julian Bond, and creme de la creme of the Carter Administration. We were family. But when we all realized that they were talking to me and not to each other, it was time for me to go.
They got divorced. Wes had lung cancer and a heart condition, and died some years ago. Jane remarried and has early Alzhiemers — but when we talk she laughs and seems to remember all the silly things we did. Yesterday, after much too long, I found their daughter, LD on Facebook. She looks just like her mom did when we met. A smile never to be forgotten. We have not talked yet but I am happy to report that her parents passed down their values. And her postings on Facebook are exceptional. She is a writer, I expected her writing to be literate, but her choice of postings are thoughtful, moving, perceptive, and right in line with what a smart and progressive thinking person person might post.
In my dotage, I find reflecting on times and people I love or loved, just remind me that the future can be a great as the past… I better get busy. We’re just sayin’… Iris
Not to distract from my rantings, but today the officer in the TSA Precheck line searched my sparkly bag, which I told him looked very nice on him. They saw something. What could there be in that bag I thought? After taking everything out of the bag and spreading it all over his station he finally found the culprit — the Metamucel. He held it up, opened it and poured some out. Remember the first time you went to the drugstore to buy sanitary napkins or rubbers? You thought you would never get over the embarrassment. Such was the feeling today. Does everyone in the airport need to know I don't have regular bowel movements? It seems they do.
Politics has been a big part of my life mostly because it gave me the opportunity to meet so many terrific people and then meet wonderful people through those people. Yesterday I found the daughter of one of my dearest political friends. Another nice story about what political relationships used to mean. Among other things, those friends were loyal, caring, insightful, committed to positive change and yes, loving. Sure there was sex on the campaign trail but that’s not what I mean. Although my X (the sperm donor - that’s how we refer to him because he did give me a great kid), once accused me of giving blo jobs in back seats — now you know why he’s my X. All those years ago, in the light ages, (these are the dark ages), when you could count on the friends you made in the campaign. When I arrived in DC, unencumbered by money, a job, or a place to live, the one possession I took with me, was my Fiat 500 Station wagon. It wasn’t much of a vehicle. It was small, you could say tiny because that would not be an exaggeration. But it was big enough to sleep in. And that’s what happened. I slept in my car on Capitol Hill, close to some hotels so I could clean up for job interviews. On occasion, when I wanted to take a shower, I would swing by my pals, Jane and Wes — they had a great house, a great kid and a shower. At some point Jane asked where I was staying that didn’t have a shower. When my answer was my car, they insisted I move in with them until I could find a job and somewhere to live. It was an incredible experience. They were early civil rights activists, so the frequent parties we had were populated with their friends like Julian Bond, and creme de la creme of the Carter Administration. We were family. But when we all realized that they were talking to me and not to each other, it was time for me to go.
They got divorced. Wes had lung cancer and a heart condition, and died some years ago. Jane remarried and has early Alzhiemers — but when we talk she laughs and seems to remember all the silly things we did. Yesterday, after much too long, I found their daughter, LD on Facebook. She looks just like her mom did when we met. A smile never to be forgotten. We have not talked yet but I am happy to report that her parents passed down their values. And her postings on Facebook are exceptional. She is a writer, I expected her writing to be literate, but her choice of postings are thoughtful, moving, perceptive, and right in line with what a smart and progressive thinking person person might post.
In my dotage, I find reflecting on times and people I love or loved, just remind me that the future can be a great as the past… I better get busy. We’re just sayin’… Iris
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