And what a week! We’re officially in a Big R recession now and some are even worried that we’re headed toward a Big D depression. It’s worldwide. All our little middle class boats are stuck in a waning tide and folks are pretty scared. We’ve just had our final presidential debate where at one point John McCain air quoted women’s health, as if it’s some kind of ridiculous notion that we should want to keep our very private uteruses away from his very outdated hands. He’s like my priest who wants to return the faithful to 1952, with his celibate back turned to us and Latin once again spilling from his lips. Back to mantillas bobbypinned to women’s heads and no one understanding anything anymore.
I’ve spent the week writing political articles for HuffingtonPost. It’s unpaid work, but the good news is that I’ve joined the ranks of nearly a million other unpaid and unemployed people. I’m in good company. (Hi unpaid everyone else!) Not to worry, as soon as the election is over, I’ll be unemployed too.
My broken leg is healed enough for me to stand on it once again … but, just a little bit. I’m learning the nuance of crutches and how tricky those suckers really are! Steps are whoopsiedoodle crazy. It would seem all our retirement accounts are also all whoopsiedoodle crazy-gone.
Wilson got a haircut and Joe the Plumber isn’t a plumber after all. Turns out he’s deep in debt to the IRS and wants to pal around with John the Senator. Republicans are showing up at McCain and Palin rallies carrying toilet plungers around as if that’ll flush all the Dems out of sight. They’re all screaming that ACORN is evidence of that Chicken Little falling sky … and if only Obama would admit to the lies they tell about him, everything would be swell.
As soon as the election is over, I’ll go back to schlepping my books around to agents once again. This time, though, I have the label, “Nationally-prominent Election Correspondent,” added to my resume.
I think you’ll all be glad when I stop being all political and snarky … and return once again to writing my normal Bloggybirdery-style of poetic prose. Bear with me, though. Only 17 more days of this politicking remains. I only hope our fragile American psyche survives and we come out of this a stronger, safer, more loving nation.
If I may practice one particular Latin word I love, I’ll leave you with that word … “Pace.” Loosely translated — be at peace, everyone!