Saturday, September 30, 2006


I once had to break up with a perfectly good boyfriend. He was 6'5", 240 pounds, Denver Broncos tight end, straight-A student, fast car, cool apartment....blah, blah. We had dated for two years, discussed marriage and children, a serious deal. But I knew that it was time for me to pull the plug. Why, you ask? Here's the honest truth. He thought the Three Stooges were HILARIOUS.

This may seem a ridiculous reason but, really, when your man is curled up in a fetal position night after night, laughing convulsively at Larry, Curly and Moe, a feeling of separateness, a moat that no drawbridge can span, envelops you and leaves you completely alone, bereft, devoid of vision and hope.

I've often said that my sense of humor has saved me as I've weathered the storms of life. Don't laugh. I'm very serious about this. I think the ability to see irony or absurdity, the ability to be self-effacing, has enabled me to cope with all that has come my way. A sense of humor is more therapeutic to me than Prozac or Valium or crack cocaine (it was only that one time, I swear).

This past weekend I stumbled across VH1's 100 Best Saturday Night Live skits. I think I may be one of the only people on the planet who has watched SNL religiously, season after season, since its inception in 1975. I was in the 8th grade when SNL began. I'm 44 now. In a good year perhaps 30% of the skits could qualify as funny. But those that are change our perspective, change our lives really. Do you remember when the old George Bush overcame the wimp factor to become our 41st president? Do you remember when he drew a line in the sand...daring the Iraqis to mess with the US of A? His approval rating was higher at that time than almost any president in history. Enter Dana Carvey. His affectionate, yet biting, parody of George Bush allowed us all to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Yes, we elected him, we like him....but we have reservations. Na Ga Da...what the hell does that mean?

Now we have president number 43, Dubya. Shit, hell, fuck. Please give us something to laugh about because he's letting us down big time. This war sucks. At least let us mock his laugh. Hehehehe. My goodness, can't we make fun of his fraternity boy demeanor....his inability to speak in complete sentences? If not, how about those daughters of his? Texas girls...tequila-swilling, blow-job-giving hose bags. Well...nothing that I wasn't but who cares? I wasn't in the public eye so too bad presidential daughters!

And Hillary. You went to Wellesley like all smart lesbians do. You could be our next president if only you didn't have cankles! Look it up in the dictionary you'll see a picture of Hillary Clinton's lower leg. Hahahahahahaha! No credibility with me because no differentiation between your calves and ankles! Universal health care?! SHUT THE HELL UP, FATTO!!!

Thank you, Lorne Michaels, for sticking with SNL. Thank you for being politically incorrect (a phrase that didn't even exist back then). You've given wings to a whole new generation of political satirists.....Dennis Miller, Bill Maher, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert. We hunger for someone to interpret our global reality. It sucks. But it's funny. Yes, there's terror in the world but there is also laughter, my friends. Tell me that there isn't something humorous about tall skinny Osama hiding in a cave needing dialysis. Poor Osama. Just the name Osama doubles me over. O-S-A-M-A.

Back to you, my Stooge-loving former sweetie pie, I know you married not too long after we parted. I imagine that your wife is beautiful, your children perfect. I picture their prowess on the field, their superiority in the classroom. But mostly I picture grubby hands, erect across the bridges of freckled noses....avoiding the inevitable double eye poke. It's a life that I could never be a part of. Nyuk, nyuk! Woo, woo!

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Personality types

You've known me for 25 years and still I am a complete enigma to you? I've slept in your bed, given birth to your children, spent countless evenings watching the Cubs lose, folding laundry, tending house with you. You've known me since I was driving a (very cool I must say) green Camaro in high school. For crying out loud, we've grown up together! We've shared a life that no one else will ever be part of.

You tell me that you loved me, that you poured yourself out for me, bled for me even, and all I see is an aloof and unreasonable dickhead. I'll tell you that I tried to be pretty and intelligent and in control, perfect and accomplished in every way, but you see a tragically flawed and irrational human being. I'm all about a lively battle between the sexes, but this is ridiculous! There must be something else afoot.

Well, here is our long-awaited chance to thank the Junior League. Well-groomed women wearing pearls have taught me something that I will forever remember and appreciate always. It's not about the externals, the things that make us look like a great pair. It's not about how smart we are, or how funny, or how attractive or talented. It's about the inner sanctum...the sacred and holy place that makes us US. It's how we perceive the world, how we process information, what we value.

You are an extrovert. You get energy and inspiration in the presence of other people. I am highly introverted. I may look like the life of the party but I spend three days alone in a closet after a backyard barbeque to re-energize myself.

You are sensory. You feel fantastic after an intense game of yard darts, the sun overhead, the wind at your back...You hike mountains, you pay attention to the outside world. I am intuitive....I live inside my head. I can easily content myself on a blanket alone watching, feeling elated and peaceful...knowing that everyone is having a great time and that this is a lovely slice of life. I'd be the happiest quadriplegic on the unimportant is the sensory to me.

You are a thinker, you follow your head, you're comfortable with the impersonal, the exacting. I am a feeler...I follow my heart, I'm in touch with the personal and the emotional. I cannot divorce myself from the inner life....matters of the heart...the divine. You easily can. Here's the solution, you say. TaDa!

You rely on knowledge and information to make a judgment. You feel a sense of urgency until a decision is made, you like to tie up loose ends. My reality is based on perception, facts be damned! I keep my eyes open and look for alternatives...I am spontaneous and in no hurry to resolve things.

No wonder we can't work it out. We live in the same world, yet it is a world completely apart. We love the same children but view them in very divergent ways. We encounter the same problems yet our solutions are diametrically opposed. On many days, we don't speak the same language at all.

I am an idealist....I'm enthusiastic, loving, giving, spiritual, nurturing, focused on personal journeys and human potential. I have a deep commitment to the positive. You are a are self-controlled, logical, have incredible strength of character and are decisive and autonomous.

Here is the funny part. You need me. You need me to give you vision, to give you wings, to keep you human and relational. And I need keep me grounded, to keep me sane, to appeal to reason and make me strong.

I think we did our best to work things out. We didn't understand each other....we still don't. I've now chosen a new mate. Guess what? He's a lot like you. He's rational and logical but softer and more accessible than you were. At least I hope so. And you've chosen a new mate. She's pretty and kind but more rational and exacting than I am.

So maybe we're wiser. Time will tell, I guess. But I know one thing.....there is no one that I would rather have been linked to for the past 25 years than you. No one that I would rather share parenting duties with than you. My love and respect for you is undiminished. I am incomplete without your guidance and strength. You are still my better half.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Gay marriage

Who says gays and lesbians can't marry? Of course they can marry. They absolutely can. They simply have to marry EACH OTHER! C'mon gay men, admit it, a large athletic woman around the house would come in DAMN HANDY! Lawn mowing, house painting, lightbulb changing...not to mention protection from would-be muggers. And you dykes. Fashion advice? Culinary prowess? Feng Shui? Sounds brilliant to me!

Things in the boudoir won't be that thrilling you say? Oh, grow UP! Even straight couples get bored after a year or two. Is sexual incompatibility enough reason to deep six an otherwise beautiful union? I think not.

Surely I jest. Take heart! You've made some headway here. A majority of the American public supports the idea of legal civil unions for gay and lesbian pairs. Civil unions would give you many of the rights and responsibilities associated with traditional marriage. The sticking point seems to be the idea of full-fledged "marriage."

Once again, falling back on my handy Catholic upbringing, I'll shed a bit of light on this. Marriage is considered by many to have spiritual significance in addition to its legal ramifications. To most it is a sacrament which, in Latin, means "something holy." It is a visible sign, in the form of a religious ceremony, of invisible grace--God's protection and favor. Christians, most notably Roman Catholics, believe that all seven sacraments were instituted by Jesus in the New Testament.

True or not, this explains why, according to a recent poll, 54% of Americans favor gay civil unions while only 35% support gay marriage. Most Christians, and fully 84% of Americans identify themselves as Christian while 60% identify as "committed Christian" (the scarier ones) are not going to be easily convinced, if they can EVER be convinced, that God is prepared to confer his special favor on a homosexual union. They are okay if the state confers a little of ITS protection and favor...but God Almighty? NO WAY.

So I'm sorry, gays and lesbians, I know that you would love to feel that God approves of your lifestyle...but asking me to give you a legal/spiritual rite of passage is actually asking for MY approval. There are quite a few who, like me, don't feel comfortable speaking for God. So please don't ask us what he thinks. Take it up with him privately. If he's the God that I think he is, you've got nothing to worry about.

Now, in the spirit of cooperation, I have something to ask of you too. Would you please STOP TALKING about gay marriage already! Especially in an election year. You are scaring people right into the big flabby bosom of the GOP by allowing them to portray the Democratic party as the gay marriage party! The anti-family values party! You're taking the focus off of the war in Iraq, off poverty, off education, race relations, welfare reform, healthcare, global warming...the crazy cowboy in the White House. Let me tell you, the Republicans are lovin' you for it! So please please please take civil unions for the time being and shut the hell up.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Where's Osama?

Shhhh...OMG...You're not gonna BELIEVE this but I think I just found Osama. He or his identical twin, I KID YOU NOT, is sitting on the couch in my basement, eating Cheerios, watching our new plasma TV. My kids have been telling me for the past few weeks that there's a "foreigner" down there but I thought they were talking about mice. We've had a rodent problem as of late and my kids, you know, have a pretty good sense of humor. But holy shit!
EVERYONE STAY CALM. I alerted the authorities over an hour ago. I'm sure they'll be here very soon.
I'm actually pretty excited about this! The $25 million reward is going to come in QUITE HANDY. Especially because the basement smells like a cave now and will certainly need to be fumigated!
Well, okay, I'm starting to worry. I hope the law enforcement officials didn't get into a fender bender or something on the way here. Oh, hello Osama. OSAMA? Where are you going? Osama! No, don't leave yet! How 'bout a waffle or something?
Osaaaaammmmmaaaaa. SHIT.

I feel REALLY sorry for the men at the Department of Home Security, or whatever it's called. This guy is like a modern-day frickin' Houdini. Maybe they should call Dog Chapman. He's probably pretty expensive, what with his own cable TV show and all, but I bet he could get the JOB DONE.

For Osama, we need to bring out the BIG GUNS, you know what I mean?

Monday, September 11, 2006

September 11th

You can't find Osama bin Laden? Oh, really? You can't? I'm sorry...I don't mean to come across as skeptical, or pissy, or even downright hostile. But are you sure you're really looking?

According to the ABC docudrama that aired last night, you've had Osama in your grasp several times recently. But suddenly he's become elusive, uncatchable, a superhero the likes of which we've not seen before! He's rich and tall and somewhat fetching really. Wow. How cool. Maybe, just maybe, it might be better for you to keep him "out there"...keep us off balance, frightened.

Why would you do that? Well, let's think. This wouldn't be a power grab, would it? You're infamous for exploiting the American public's fear...expanding the power of the government to save us from casually-defined "enemies." Government entities leap from the tops of tall buildings to protect us. The IRS, one of the most tyrannical organizations on the face of the planet, the bottom quarter of the graduating class clad in red-white-and-blue spandex, has unilateral power to come after anyone, to freeze our assets, to torture us until we bleed...without mercy, without oversight. The Department of Social Services watches over us..."Doc, please, let us know about any broken bones, about any bruises, uncombed hair, cavities."

Now you want to monitor our phone calls, our friendships, our opinions. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? I know who you are. You're the frat boy who walked me home from the college party to "protect" me...didn't have anything to do with your agenda, did it? You're the C-average Ivy League fuckers, legacies all! You've used 9/11 to gleefully expand the power of the increase your own personal power. You, of course, know what's right. For you. Bastards! People are slowly, very slowly, figuring you out.

I live a stone's throw from NORAD, the North American Air Defense Command. On 9/11/2001, I had F-16s flying overhead all day long. You know what I feared most? Not Osama and his band of thugs, or wayward planes or nuclear bombs, but George W. hanging out in my back yard "protecting" me. Fuck you, frat rat, swaggering drugstore cowboy, and all of your slight-of-penis asshole friends. Unfortunately for you, I know your kind.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Government surveillance

Last night I was, as I'm sure many of you were, privileged to watch an ABC docudrama about 9/11. We were invited by the ACLU to ponder how we should we respond to such an attack on our precious soil. Let's look in a mirror..let us be reminded of who we are as a nation. Yes, let's! Who are we as a nation? Are we all in agreement here? Were Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson on the same page 'lo those many years ago? Most definitely not!

Jefferson, radical that he was, believed in personal autonomy. He advocated a decentralized government with the majority of power and authority residing with the states and, ultimately, with the individual. Jefferson was fearful of tyranny and was a proponent of personal freedom. Hamilton, on the other hand, favored a strong central that acted in accordance with the interests of the "people" and needed the full faith and support of the American public to thrive. He said that a vast body of powers were to be implied and authorized Congress to "make all laws that shall be necessary and proper" to carry out powers specifically "national security."
Can you guess who prevailed? It's obvious that we live in a Hamiltonian society, rife with rhetoric and hyperbole, where the government "protects" us and is willing and able to trample individual freedoms on a daily basis. Why? Because they can! Because we let them! We've asked them to!

The frat boys in Washington are drawing upon Hamiltonian principles in the wake of the attacks of 9/11...they watch us, they engage in racial and political profiling...they imprison American citizens without due process...they make new laws every day that restrict our civil liberties. Why? Because they are fighting the "war on terror" and what they are doing is, of course, both necessary and proper.

Well, thank you very little. Don't forget that every new law designed to "protect" us, every new rule enacted by our chums in D.C., comes with a price...our personal freedom. Are we safer now? I don't feel it at all.

Wednesday, September 6, 2006

Our prison system

Returning home from Aspen recently, I drove by the state correctional facility in Buena Vista. My blood sugar was a bit low at the time and I had an epiphany of epic proportions. The individuals incarcerated in those ugly buildings aren't criminals. No, not at all. They are simply victims of POOR NUTRITION! Show me a man who ate lots of Wonder Bread as a kid and I'll show you a serial killer. Too much soda pop and Mike and Ike's? A bank robber. Not enough cruciferous vegetables? Most likely a white collar criminal. Show me a young girl who doesn't get her full complement of leafy greens and I'll show you a young girl who has a lot of speeding tickets. And cake eaters? Well, I haven't been able to discover a direct crime link but I think we all agree that they are, by and large, angry and annoying people.

WHAT? Yes! Trust me on this. It's all about brain chemistry. It's about neurotransmitters, chemical substances that cause our brains and our bodies to feel good and function normally. It's about serotonin and epinephrine and dopamine and adrenaline. They regulate our moods, our thoughts, our sleep, our impulses. When certain substances are in short supply or are overabundant, it is IMPOSSIBLE to be a decent human being. Frequently, those that we lock up are drug addicts and alcoholics. Why? They are self-medicating! They know that they don't feel quite right, and they are trying to fix the problem. But it's not the right solution.

So how DO we stay healthy and happy? PROPER NUTRITION AND EXERCISE! This leads me to my proposal. Instead of incarcerating individuals who perpetuate wrongs on the American public, let's send them to nutritional camps. They can eat the proper foods, get moderate cardiovascular exercise, lots of quality sleep. . .maybe we'll even throw in a couple days of weight training. As a special treat, probably on Sundays, we'll bring in a cute Pilates instructor so they can work on their core strength and develop flexibility.

Of course, the retards at the FDA can't be in charge of my revolutionary program. They, after all, are the douche bags that gave us the food pyramid. Nor can any nutritionist who graduated from the General Mills College of Bullshit (it's everyone's alma mater. . .ask 'em). No. I'm going to call my friends, Dr. Julian Whitaker and Dr. David Williams, the most awesome health gurus in the country. They can come up with a diet that includes freshly-milled whole grain products, raw organic produce, hormone-free lean proteins, and lots of distilled water. I'll call Kathy Smith to put together an exercise program. THE FIRM can be in charge of the weight training. We'll get these "criminals" put back together in no time flat! We'll educate the heck out of them and when they've completed the program we'll drop them off at the local Whole Foods market with a couple of crisp $20s. The 400 employees of the prison (a career choice, by the way, which is also closely related to a paucity of necessary neurotransmitters) can run the program, under close supervision.

If you really think about it, you know I'm right. You know that certain foods make you feel great, others not so much. You know that a lack of sleep can leave you unable to cope with the stresses of the day. A nice hike on a beautiful afternoon is a fantastic tension buster. Shouldn't we give these people a chance to experience all that life has to offer? Is it really their fault that no one taught them how to stay sane and healthy? I think not. I think they are victims.

Most days I'm just one Hostess HoHo away from committing an unthinkable act. There, but by the grace of God, and the power of sensible nutrition and moderate exercise, go I.