105 Ways to Give a Book
Showing posts with label Off-Topic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Off-Topic. Show all posts

A Personal (and Political) Message

Dear John,

Stop calling. I’m tired of getting messages on my answering machine reminding me that today’s the primary and to get out and vote for you. It’s over between us, Mr. McCain. It has been for a long time. In fact, I take that back. It never really even started for us, which only makes your continual calling all the more pathetic.

Okay, there was that brief flirtation years ago. But c’mon, the Democrats were putting up Kerry. In comparison, you looked so strong. But nothing happened with us. You have to admit it. I didn’t even give you my digits, which also makes your calls pretty disturbing.

You know this is hard enough for me already. Yes, I’m talking about Clinton and Obama. We need to talk about that. I’ve always been a fan of the Clintons and stuck through the tough times with them. I did. I like Hillary, and I love the idea of a woman president. But for years the country has been acting like an married couple hashing over the same old arguments and not getting anywhere. For the love of Pete, the last election had a huge focus on Vietnam. VIETNAM! Do you realize how long ago that was? Shouldn’t our attention be somewhere else by now? You were no help with your whole Prisoner of War thing going on. Not that I don’t appreciate what you did. Honestly. It’s just time to move on.

I’m with Obama now. He’s strong too, but he’s a fresh start. We need a fresh start badly, so badly. I can’t work out the old issues anymore. Red state, blue state. Clinton, Bush. Back and forth. It’s draining. With Obama I feel needed, wanted, excited. It’s good. It’s really good.

So John, the calls have got to stop. I’ll always treasure the good in you, but I can’t be yours. I can’t. I’m an Obama Girl now.

Sincerely,
Pam (Pookie)

Obama Rally

Barack ObamaThere’s good timing, there’s bad timing, and then there’s annoying timing. The first two are well understood. The last might best be explained by this situation.

The family and I were in Virginia Beach to visit my mom, brother, and niece. It had to be a quick trip, driving down on Saturday morning at leaving at dinnertime on Sunday because we had to be back Monday morning. All well and good. Until I found out that Barack Obama was speaking at the nearby convention center at 7:30 p.m. on Sunday. We should be almost back to Northern Virginia by that time, but it’s Obama, like three miles from my mom’s house. And it’s Obama.

See, that’s annoying timing. Two hours earlier, and we’d certainly go. Two hours later, we couldn’t possibly go. If we left after the speech, we’d get home after midnight. If we left without going to the speech, I’d beat myself up about it. The kids would have to go, they might get tired, the wait would be long, the center might be crowded, we’d have to drive late at night, the kids had school the next day, Bill had work. What to do?

We went.

We didn’t know what to expect, given that Virginia Beach is not Democrat land. We figured that it might not be all that crowded and decided to get there about 6:30 instead of 5:30 when the doors opened. I wouldn’t call that choice a mistake exactly, but I will say by the time we got there the huge convention center parking lot was filled. No matter — we parked in a nearby lot. We approached the venue from the side and then saw the line. No worries — that’s to be expected. But as we walked and walked and walked to get to the end of a line that had to be about a half-mile long, we began to wonder how crazy it was to do this. Even though we thought that we wouldn’t be able to get in, we decided to wait until the official speech start at 7:30 p.m. to see how it was going.

As it turns out, the line started moving quickly right before our determined decision time, so we stayed the course and made it inside. The process was disorganized, the crowd was huge, the kids got tired, Barack started late, and we had to leave early. But we were there. Just us and about 18,000 other supporters. Holy cow.

The funniest thing: Our third grader is in charge of the class stuffed animal, Tracker, and we told her how cool it would be to write in Tracker’s journal that he saw Barack Obama speak. We had to throw the dog in the air a couple of times so he could see over the crowd, but it convinced her to go. Hey, you do what you gotta do.

Wish you could have been there too? Here’s the video.

Off-Topic and Then On-Topic Again in Two Videos, Neither of Which Is My Own

When I heard that John Edwards was dropping out of the Democratic primaries, I felt a little bad. I love Obama, but I like Edwards, and I’m sorry to lose his voice in this part of the process. But Clinton and Obama are certainly sucking all the oxygen to feed their brightly burning stars, and let’s face it, Edwards can’t debate hooked up to an oxygen tank.

When I heard that Giuliani was dropping out of the race, I could only think of one thing, and that is John Green’s “Ten Questions for Giuliani Supporters.” It’s one of my favorite Brotherhood 2.0 video segments, and I’ve embedded it here (I hope) for your viewing pleasure. (Continue watching for the Zombies vs. Unicorns debate, one of the most controversial issues of our time.)


Now on the topic of books, but staying with John Green and his videos. Apparently there’s a book banning issue with Looking for Alaska at a school in New York. John talks about the issues very well, including why he used the “pornographic” scene in his book as a deliberate writing tool. The case in question is particularly infuriating because the parents objecting to the book being taught aren’t even the parents of the kids to whom it is being taught. Oh, and the parents and kids in that English class had the option of being taught a different book if they objected to Green’s book. I’m sorry — John explains it better and funnier. Enjoy and respond if you are so moved.

Snow Day Message

I was going to write up a review today, but I’ve been suckered into this ongoing dialogue on YouTube today. Seems like a high school senior called up the county school administrator to complain that schools were not closed for snow. The wife of the administrator called him back and left a message on his cell phone blasting the kid for calling her home in the early morning hours.

Given that I know of the area of which they speak, and know how hard it is to predict weather patterns there, I think the county administrator is doing the best that he can. He doesn’t want to close the schools unnecessarily — which has happened — or keep schools open when it’s unsafe to drive — which has also happened. I don’t think that anyone has the right to call him at home to complain about it. If you have to say something, you can leave a message at his office or write his email.

The current back-and-forth on YouTube focuses on the wife’s angry response. People are calling her all sorts of names, and her private response is now public record. I feel bad for her, especially because I don’t think her response is wrong. In fact, I think it addresses a broader concern, which is perhaps why it’s touching a chord with me and others.

I hear from teachers that kids question everything. They try to negotiate homework assignments. They argue with the teachers. If things don’t go their way, they bring in the parents. When did kids and teens get this huge sense of entitlement? Because at the heart of the snow day message thing is that some teen feels entitled to call the home of the county school administrator because he doesn’t agree with the decision to keep schools open. Is that really okay? The other issue is that adults seemingly can’t yell at a teen, even if he is doing something that could be interpreted as harassment. Is that really okay?

If you feel like finding out more — and I’ll warn you against it now before you get sucked in — here’s the news report, the Washington Post article and commentary, and the YouTube posting. If you want, we can talk here about entitlement and boundaries, privacy and Internet, brats and bitches. Oh, and kids today.