Monday, July 29, 2019

Open Apology to Senator Morgan McGarvey

A few days ago, I posted an ugly Facebook status about Morgan McGarvey. As an explanation, not an excuse, I tell you that I have always really liked Senator McGarvey and this sorta fell in the 'always hurt the ones you love' category. I was furious about the vandalism of Democratic Headquarters and saw a news clip in which he wasn't as ugly as I wanted him to be. It was a final straw moment for me, but not with him, and I took it out on him. Not only did I post my little swipe at him as a Facebook status, I tweeted him what I wished he had said in his interview.

Senator McGarvey contacted me today and explained that, as I've had happen to me and know how it feels, media picked what they wanted to use from many more words he had actually said. And he gave me a phone number because he would like to discuss this more with me.

And he isn't even my Senator.

Morgan McGarvey is one of the reasons I always defend politicians when people lump them all together and talk about cutting their pay and their benefits, and say they don't do enough, etc. That would describe McConnell and Paul, who have ignored or sent useless form letter responses to the many letters I've sent them, and who refuse to meet with constituents who don't agree with them. This is the kind of work that good politicians do and that the people who don't get involved know nothing about - in addition to carrying the responsibility of the district, the city, the state, the country, and the world. It's a tough job with constant criticism. And, I am sorry that I criticized a good guy.

I deleted that Facebook status. Not because I'm embarrassed - I'm owning it here. Because I don't want to leave something negative about him, even though I didn't use his real name.

I won't delete my Tweet that he saw because I stand behind the message in it. I wish he would have responded that media hadn't truly represented his message but realize the traitor in the White House has made criticizing media - well, you know, white noise, to repay them for giving him such a leg-up into the position he didn't really win.

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Thank you, Robert Mueller

My takeaway, reflected upon, slept on impression of Robert Mueller:

He is exhausted, probably permanently, from giving us some of the last years of his lifetime of service to our country.

He is, without doubt, the absolute epitome of honesty and fairness. It’s impossible for him to be partisan, to prejudge, or to state without *absolute evidence*, making him an extraordinary human. We must recognize and admire this as qualifications for the job he was asked to do and qualities we should all hope to accomplish.

He is guarded so that he can be trusted beyond doubt.

And his heart is surely broken. He has seen his country attacked by outsiders and enemies from within, and the enemies from within were people he chose to identify with but who he surely knows as the reason he has to sleep with one eye open now.

I am grateful for all he has done, especially the crafty, quiet messages he sent yesterday.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

America's Got Sob Stories

Forty-five minutes into the debut of the newest talent show, America's Got Sob Stories, I picked up the phone, fully prepared to call in a vote for Tiffany Crosswell, who delivered her third set of triplets onstage, without anesthesia or a physician. "I need the million dollars to raise all these kids," she sang, as the only boy's head crowned. The fact that she managed to stay on key after the emcee puked beside her head was the deciding factor for me. That beat the eighty-year-old senator from Kentucky, who had, despite being born with one arm shorter than the other, picked a sandwich bag full of lint off his sleeves in fourteen seconds. 

I had to vote fair, even though the senator said he would resign if he won, and I knew that would be best for my country. It was a tough decision. 

I punched in 1-800 but dropped the phone when six-year-old Alexandra Smith appeared on my television screen. She slithered across the stage, dragging casted legs behind her, and stopped in front of the judges. 

The female judge gasped and fanned her face with a hanky. "Are you okay? What happened to your legs?"

"I tumbled too long," Alexandra explained. "Practiced my routine three days without stopping." 

Barely missing the mess that he and Tiffany had left earlier, the emcee dropped to pushup position beside Alexandra. "What are you going to do for us tonight?" 

Alexandria recited the Ten Commandments, in Spanish and French. The crowd roared and I realized I must be heartless. Given a choice, I would have watched the Senator fill another sandwich bag. 

I learned a lesson about voting too soon when the final act ended up being my favorite. Forty-six-year-old George Something-I-can't-spell explained that his mother had sold crack on the corner of 34th and Ash to earn his fare to the audition. She was arrested and his father filed for a divorce and kicked George out of the house. He needed the money because he had no job skills. 

"I broke all four limbs once," he said. "Ain't none of my arms and legs the same size, and I passed a kidney stone bigger than any of them twins." He clipped clothespins on his eyelids and removed his fingernails with pliers. The audience and judges cleared the theater. 

I cast my phone and internet votes for George, mostly because I can't imagine anyone paying to see his act again and I don't want to see him on welfare.

I'll let you know if George yanks out his toenails next week.

(originally posted in 2008) 

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