Sucked In

It’s true.  I’ve been sucked in to the political vortex of this Presidential election.  I am not going to blog about the candidates or their issues, because….well….why?  In this modern age of instant-electronic-everything, people have such enormous access to information that it seems ridiculous for me to start hurling opinions into cyberspace.  So that being said, I want to talk about the “undecided voter.”  If you are undecided, you are ridiculous.

I am a poll junkie.  I have at least 4 different bookmarks geared specifically toward the daily political polls, not to mention the constant visits to CNN, Slate, Real Clear Politics, Larry King, Anderson Cooper 360, Fox, you name it, I’m checking it.  I do about 3-5 hours a day of political research and news intake.  I am also volunteering for one of the candidates, but I’m not going to mention WHO, because it doesn’t matter.

Back to the ridiculous undecided voters.  Hellooooo.  My God, the candidates are so different, as frost from fire.  The issues are so important, have you not done your research?  Have you not fact checked all the bastards?  My hubby works for the Fed’s, near the tippy top of one of the hottest button issue agencies in all the land.  I hear shit then see it in the New York Times 3 days later….I even e-mailed the reporter who broke a story last week, a story that I already knew about and had been hopping mad over.  When my hubby tells me questionable things that are going on behind the scenes I get ALL pissy in his air space and jump up and down like a blond Yosemite Sam.  I’ve even encouraged him to ambush responsible parties in parking garages and “set them straight, mister!”  I told Mr. Reporter that I’d sniff around for some more info.  Me, the house frau mole.  How sorta sexy, eh?  Better than laundry, for cryin’ out loud.  Anyway, these undecided voters have really got my surgical stockings in a knit.  Personally, I think they ‘like’ being undecided.  I believe they enjoy stringing everybody around by the nose, waiting with baited breath for them to “Pick already, PICK!!”  And from watching the numbers, it appears this undecided population has not varied by more than 2 percentage points for the entire Presidential run.  So the SAME numb-nuts are still not committing to a candidate, and driving the predictors crazy.  I think they like it.  These are probably the same wishy-washy fools who are overwhelmed by the 6 page menu at Bob Evan’s.   When confronted with overwhelming menu choices, for me it’s a simple run thru of a few questions:  Breakfast or Food food?  Hot or cold?  Healthy or evil?  Once you bust those down, it’s a breeze.  These undecided Americans need to READ.  FACT CHECK.  CARE!!!  I care so much about this election that for the first time in my life I’m actively campaigning for a candidate, and I hate that shit.  Calling people, eeewwww, asking them to also volunteer.  Going to events, hand writing post cards to women in swing states who are “UNDECIDED”, encouraging them to vote for my guy and WHY they should.  I went to one of those parties and we wrote a thousand cards.  The next President owes me a hand massage…cramp city.

So, I’ve been sucked in.  My husband cannot even wear a political button to work, as it is illegal for him to do so.  He’s not even really supposed to have a yard sign.  But it’s MY house too, so we do.

My rant for the day is “Decide Already!”  Your time is running out.

If you’ve already been “The Decider”, Kudos to you baby!  Just make sure you get to the polls on Nov. 4th and encourage others to do so as well.

Must run and prep debate food for tonight….  🙂

Thank You, Mr. President

This morning we are going to take our darling 9 year old girl to a surgeon. A guru of bones. She needs surgery on her legs to correct a bone growth issue that is happening due to complications from a severe riding lawn mower accident that happened two years ago. A 20 second FREAK accident, and I mean freak – because we had rules in place and the mower was NOT a riding toy and the children were not to be in the yard when the mower was being used and on and on….Anyway, our 20 second accident which cost my baby girl most of her right foot, part of her left hand and absolutely demolished her left foot and ankle and was only spared by a genius super-hero girl doctor at Johns Hopkins (Dr. Sargent we love you) has turned into 2 years. The surgery she needs is complicated and has a high risk of failure. There are scenario’s in which her outcome would be peachy-keen. God knows I have tossed in my bed, racking my brain so I could run these idea’s by the surgeons. So I threw my brilliant “what if we did this” collection by Dr. Sargent and do you know what she just kept saying to me? “Well, if we had more stem cell research this could have already been done by now.” What? “Yes, it would be great if we could do that, but not yet.” She just kept saying, “Not yet”. Not yet, NOT YET! As she sat there gestating.

SOOOOOH, 8 years of idiots! 8 years of morons who only seem to bang their drum for life before you get here, but after that baby, they’ll throw you to the hounds if it serves their wallets. (& the trumped up doctrine they carry it around in.) In the exam room my blood pressure was skyrocketing, tears streaming, rage building. I’ve been blocked. Thwarted by backwards cretins with an agenda straight from hell. I’d like to show up on the steps of the White House with a picnic basket of whoop ass, and the White House is only a short drive away….wait, you’d rather not get arrested, right?

So here I sit. My baby girl just came and crawled into my lap. She is simply the sweetest thing, a true lap child with a sensitive heart as big as the sky. She does not know what is about to happen to her. But soon we will have to tell her that she’ll be going under the knife yet again, tho I can’t quite explain to her, “But honey, it may not work.” I’d like Mr. Bush to come explain that to her. I’d like to see him get some “hands on” experience while looking deep into the eyes of innocence, and watching those eyes become fraught with fear and sadness. But that won’t happen. He’s left that to me, and appropriately so – I’m the mother, I’m the bearer of bad news, the news of his agenda and how it’s going to make her life more difficult. And then I think of the young men and women getting blasted out of their hum-v’s, tho none of them in the President or Vice President’s families, yet they are there, and may never return home and we certainly know that many of those brave soldiers will come home missing more parts than my baby girl. So there’s no accounting for ‘fair’ and there’s little control over the current state of affairs.

Mr. President, won’t you come with me today to see the surgeon? He’s going to tell me (probably) the same thing Dr. Sargent had to tell me. Not yet. Sorry. Maybe next administration…..

Too bad Stella’s too young to vote.

P.S. I don’t remember being a stem cell. Do you?