Vision calls for assembly

As is I suppose obvious at this point, I’m an Obama supporter; I may even have convinced Shel that this is a sensible position, but I’ve been troubled.  I haven’t understood why Clinton was so important to Shel and to so many women.  I still don’t understand, I will never be able to understand, but at least I can be ashamed…

From a post by Erica Barnett:

I’ve said it before–but because some Slog readers seem to still think I believe any attack on Clinton is a sexist attack, I’ll say it again: The misogyny from the media, from supposedly liberal blogger doodz , commenters on this blog, and just about everywhere during this campaign has been despicable. This kind of shit ought to be behind us: Hillary Clinton is a bitch. A big ol’ bitchy bitch. And a cunt. A “big fucking whore.” Fortunately, you can “call a woman anything.” She’s “Nurse Ratched.” She’ll castrate you if she gets a chance. She would like that. She’s a “She-Devil.” She’s a madam, and her daughter’s a whore. She’s frigid, and she can’t give head. She’s a “She-Devil.” A lesbian. A nag. When things get tough, she cries like a big dumb GIRL. In fact, she’s just that — a “little girl.” In FACT, she wants to “cry her way to the White House.” To be, ahem, “Crybaby-in-Chief.” That proves that she’s not tough enough. But she’s also not feminine enough. She’s “screechy.” She’s an “aging, resentful female.” She’s “Sister Frigidaire.” She really ought to quit running for President and stick to housework. She basically spent her entire times as First Lady going to tea parties. She’s a monster whojust won’t die. In fact, she really should just die. You can buy a urinal target with her face on it to express what you really think of her. OMG she’s got claws! She’s crazy. In fact, she’s a lunatic. She’s petty and vindictive and entitled. She’s a washed-up old hag. She’s “everybody’s first wifestanding outside probate court.” She’s a “scolding mother.” She’s shrill… shrill… shrill. She can’t take it when people are mean to her. She’s a “hellish housewife.” She’s Tanya Harding. She CAN’T be President, what with the mood swings and the menses.Any woman who votes for her is voting with her vagina, not her brain. Women only like Hillary because she’s a fellow Vagina-American. And because they vote with their feelings. Frankly, anyone who still thinks we need “feminine role models” should get over it and move on, already. Oh, and men who supporters are castratos in the eunuch chorus. You shouldn’t make her President because she wants it too much. She’s totally just banking on support from ugly old feminists. And she looooves to “play the victim.” She cackles! And cackles. And cackles. It’s like she’s a witch or something! She’s definitely“witchy.” And now you can buy her cackle as your ring tone. Her voice, too, is “grating”–like “fingernails on a blackboard” to “some men.” She’s hiding behind her gender. She isn’t a “convincing mom” because she’s too strident. She never did anything on her own. Her husband keeps her on a leash. She hates men. Her campaign is a “catfight.” She makes people want to kill themselves, is like a “domineering mother,” and is cold. And OMG she has boobies! All of which are reasons to hate her. (And boy, could I go on.)

Oh, and if you even mention any of this, you’re either silly or a bad person.

So yeah, while I’m ready to get on the Obama welcome wagon, I’m also angry. And I’m not ready to “get over” the blatant, ugly misogyny that so many Democrats–Democrats!–have displayed throughout this campaign, thank you very fucking much. (Of course, Republican shitbags did plenty of dishing, too, but the sexist statements by Democrats and otherwise liberal columnists have been the most disappointing). You can’t be intellectually honest if you give lip service to “equality” in one breath and guffaw at how “caustic” and “shrill” Clinton is in the next.

I’m fiercely disappointed in many of my fellow Americans. I’ve long hoped that the daughters of the generation that follows mine would grow up thinking that even they could be President someday. If I ever have a daughter someday, I’ll tell her that, just as my parents did. But after seeing what happened to Hillary, I doubt they’ll have reason to believe it.

I’ve been looking at the Edward de Bono site; it say’s ‘personal site’ so I guess he has kind of an odd definition of personal, but there’s a lot of good stuff here.  I’m particularly interested in ‘provocation’ as a tool for thinking.  As you may have noticed I’m also interested in various efforts to make a better world.  Offered then are two and a half examples of blog efforts to that end:

First is 37 Days by Patti Digh which is quite nice, part of the Dave Pollard network, suitable for children, and more often than not right-on.

Then there’s Good Mom Bad Mom with Jenny & Mindy, Jenny is also The Bloggess, which careful reader is where the 1/2 comes in and is an obeisance rather than a suggestion that she’s not completely 100% kickass, which may not be suitable for children.  Whether and why it wouldn’t be suitable, in what kind of world, is the question.

I promised two & a half but as normally happens in the process of read/writing stumbled on a third+.  Here are posts starting with MOMocrats that explains eloquently something I couldn’t figure out how to articulate without giving offence.  Of course the point my current post was trying to figure out whether ‘giving’ offence was really such a bad idea…

Just testing at the moment…

…with a new look and an upgraded version of WordPress.  The Dvorak layout has moved from experiment to actuality, though it feels like typing in mud; I’m going to persevere  however.

The SightWork nexus is going to be somewhere between really-slow and non-existent for the next couple of  weeks.  I’m upgrading pretty much everything including shifting over to the Dvorak keyboard.  We’ll be back better than ever.

ANGEL SURROUNDED BY PAYSANS

One of the countrymen :
There is
A welcome at the door to which no one comes?

The angel :
I am the angel of reality,
Seen for the moment standing in the door.

I have neither ashen wing nor wear of ore
And live without a tepid aureole,

Or stars that follow me, not to attend,
But, of my being and its knowing, part.

I am one of you and being one of you
Is being and knowing what I am and know.

Yet I am the necessary angel of earth,
Since, in my sight, you see the earth again,

Cleared of its stiff and stubborn, man-locked set,
And, in my hearing, you hear its tragic drone

Rise liquidly in liquid lingerings
Like watery words awash; like meanings said

By repetitions of half meanings. Am I not,
Myself, only half of a figure of a sort,

A figure half seen, or seen for a moment, a man
Of the mind, an apparition apparelled in

Apparels of such lightest look that a turn
Of my shoulder and quickly, too quickly, I am gone?

- Wallace Stevens

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