Pretending to Farm

Frightened.

Although I tend to be a worrier and have wasted immeasurable time on that particular pursuit, my current worry has morphed into concern and my concern into fright.  In my 45 years on this earth, in this country, I have never seen the economy as volatile as it currently is and it is getting worse, not better.  Contrary to what the owner of seven (maybe) homes says, our economy is NOT fundamentally sound but instead is at its worst since the Great Depression.  We as a nation are not in a “mental depression” but do indeed have reason to whine.  Wall Street and the lending industry are in chaos.  After the government rescued Bear Stearns back in March, it must have enjoyed it because it then bailed out Freddie and Fannie.  Lehman declared bankruptcy and Bank of America purchased what was a cornerstone of stable finance, Merrill Lynch.  AIG is struggling to stay in business and is begging for loans from both public and private sources.  In response to this mess, the banks that are not too bloodied to function are tightening their loan criteria beyond what it was pre-subprime mortgages.  For the foreseeable future, only those with perfect or near-perfect credit will be able to acquire a loan for a home or a small business, much less items such as cars, boats, second homes, or land.  What this means is our economy will continue to decline or at least stall.  Because financing will be difficult to attain, the markets for things that are typically purchased this way will suffer.  The already bad housing market will get worse and suffering auto makers will suffer all the more.  Dealerships will go under, realtors will be out of work, and, as a result, the unemployment rate will continue to rise. 

 

As part of a middle class already financially stressed due to high gas prices and rising grocery and retail costs, I am scared.  My husband has a construction management job.  What will happen to the industry and, in turn, his job?  Our country lost a lot of money and a lot of jobs just today and all signs point to more of the same.  Will we become a casualty of that?  Our jobs?  Our investments?  Our house?  Our farm?

 

Soon, we will be ending what has, by majority opinion, been one of the worst, if not the worst administrations in the history of our country.  We have a chance to turn things around.  Yet, both candidates are speaking in soundbites, platitudes, and generalities.  They tell us what they are going to do but not how.  They speak in generalities and not details.  It’s time to dispose of the specious ads and stump speeches and treat the American people like we can handle more than shallow campaigning.  Speak to the press and the people on a regular basis and let us get to know who you truly are instead of continuing to depend on controlled, scripted oration.  Show your passion.  Tell us, tell me what you’re going to do to fix this mess.  Tell me you’re going to help us keep our jobs and our farm.  Be smart, be sincere, and show us that you have what it takes to step into the Oval Office and be a president, a good president, a president your country will be proud of the world over.  Step up.

Poly Meaning Many, Tics Meaning Blood Thirsty Insects

I should be downright giddy this morning. My candidate won North Carolina, a place I know and love (Go Blue Devils! Go Tarheels when you’re not playing the Blue Devils!) and he virtually tied it up in Indiana (Go Hoosiers when you’re not playing the Blue Devils!). Mathematically and fundamentally, Mrs. Clinton cannot win the Democratic nomination and Obama’s the man. I should be throwing off my kleiner Stiefel and successfully doing cartwheels for the first time in my life. I should be pouring that bottle of champagne that has sat in the fridge since the Meem’s last visit. Hell, I should be having a Bacchus Feast. I cannot do any of those things, however, because it is 9 am, I am on a diet, and, most of all, Mrs. Plastered-On-Smile stood up there and said “on to the White House.”

Realistically, I suppose she couldn’t cry (again). If it was me, I would be (often am) a blubbering idiot. That, and the many drunken, inhaling, and cursing skeletons in my enormous closet, is one of the many reasons I am not/will not be entering the political arena any time soon. I mean truly, I can’t even take criticism from my own husband, much less from Chris Matthews and Tim Russert. In this day and age, a presidential candidate has to be egomaniacal, crazy, or very altruistic and, other than the crazy thing, my peg just doesn’t fit into that hole.

So I suppose that today the full court press begins. Howard Dean, Governor Rendell, and a wide swath of superdelegates will be having a Come-to-Jesus-for-the-good-of-the-party/country meeting with the wearer of pantsuits. She, Bill, and Chelsea will pirouette and grand jeté like Fonteyn, Baryshnikov, and Pavlova but, as the curtain is closing, will take a face-saving out, most likely one that involves debt relief and perhaps West Virginia. Since Hillary, Seven Sisters graduate that she is, thinks she is one of the great unwashed now, Appalachia is just the place for her (no offense to WV, it’s a lovely state that has the misfortune to be wracked with poverty). They’ll probably let her win there, and then when she again wins in Kentucky but loses in Oregon, she’ll bow out gracefully. End of show, let’s beat up that old white guy that married the heiress now.

For the present, the mini-boot stays on, the cartwheels remain unthrown, and the champagne stays unopened. Bacchus will have to cool his heels on Mt. Olympus. The end/beginning is nigh, though, and I’m warming up.

Ahhnold

From Salon.com's War Room, the best headline I have read in a while:

McCain Makes Play for Key Killer Robot Vote

And then, sure enough, the Governator endorsed him. What a funny world in which we live. Isn't it grand?

That is all (I'm still hiding from the penny).

Throw out some bums; vote in some reprobates.

One of the good things about the fact that the majority of my current television watching is small kid-oriented is that the under five set cannot vote and, therefore, their advertisers are not political campaigners.  No attack ads, other than for Rockem’ Sockem’ Robots.  I have to admit I am a bit surprised.  You’d think by now Karl Rove and his ilk would have come up with an ad beseeching kids to tell their moms and dads to vote against so and so or they would not be getting any toys this Christmas.  I wouldn’t be shocked to hear it was already in the works for 2008. 

Although I am mostly immune from the increasingly horrid and tasteless campaign ads, I am not from the more numerous than ever telephone calls, usually received during Anthony’s nap time.  Every candidate and party has called at least ten times, as well as every proposition proponent and opponent.  It is driving me crazier.

I cannot wait until November 8, 2006.  At this point, I don’t care if the Klingons take control of congress.  Just get the damned thing over.  I mean, if everything the candidates say about each other is true, they’re all a bunch of reprobates anyway, none of which should be allowed to walk down the street, much less represent us in

Washington

. 

Despite my disillusionment with a great deal of the political process, mostly due to the advertisers and spinmeisters who have hijacked what was a great plan set forth by our founding fathers, I will cast my vote on November 7.  I hope the rest of you will, too.