As of late, I know we’ve been talking about the Way Forward for PUMAs. Well, here I am, my only day off this week, save for Wednesday, with a Case of the Mondays.
When I have a Case of the Mondays, I usually don’t feel like doing anything. I mean, it doesn’t help that it’s raining up here- I’m in Northeast Ohio. I vote at a Nature Reserve. Rain is Lake Effect. It’s like this really annoying guy that keeps asking for your phone number and you keep trying to pretend you have something else to do, but he doesn’t leave, so you tell him you had a sex change (even though you didn’t) to get him away from you and he STILL doesn’t get the message.
Well, that is what rain is like in Northeast Ohio in April. Like a bothersome boyfriend.
But April Showers and bothersome boyfriends get me thinking about things. Like… what was I doing during the April Showers of 2008?
I don’t know if any of you remember… I doubt it. But in April of 2008, I wrote an email to Donna Brazile. It was during the primary, and her response to me was less than pleasant. So I posted it on my blog, and… something of a firestorm erupted, I guess. I had Greg Sargent from TPM email me, asking for Brazile’s letter, which I gave him, but nothing ever came out of it. Not that I expected it to.
I realize that most readers here are older than me. When I wrote that email to Brazile, I was a few weeks shy of eighteen. Now I am a few weeks shy of nineteen, and unlike the rest of you, I am not a fully formed adult. Looking back on what I expected when I wrote that email… I guess I feel naive. I have always had faith in people. I was seventeen, and I was trying to reach the heart of a heartless person, believing that I could succeed. I don’t know that everyone in the world is unreachable… I don’t know much, I’ll admit it.
But if there is anything I hate, it is fighting. I don’t mean I hate fighters. Fighters who fight for the right causes, fighters who fight for the sake of themselves and those that are weaker than them, I admire and look up to.
But what I hate is fighting that causes another being pain. What I hate is fighting for the sake of it. What I hate is fighting for the wrong reasons.
Our President is a man who ran his Campaign on Hope and Change. I first learned about him when I was Seventeen years old. I had graduated early from High School and it was time to think about who I was going to be voting for. I had considered myself a Democrat- I was raised by Republicans. My father is an Accountant with a man crush on Ronald Reagan, my mother is too weak minded to vote for anyone her Pastor doesn’t tell her to vote for, and my Step Mother is too much of an idiot to decide either way.
I’m not a snotty teenager rebelling against my parents. I actually made an informed decision when I was thirteen. It went like this:
Me: Dad, why did you vote for George Bush?
Dad: Because I’m a Conservative Republican and not a Liberal Democrat.
Me: How come you’re Conservative?
Dad: BECAUSE. I don’t want my taxes raised to support Welfare Queens and People who have dozens of kids so they can get more money from the Government, and so Gays can live together and be weird, and I don’t care about any Scientific Research that all them Tree Huggers want and…. *on and on it went*
Me: (after my Dad finished Ranting) Oh. Well, I guess I’m a Democrat then.
Obviously, I was more fully aware of Party Positions by the time 2008 rolled around. But I had to find a Candidate to support on the Democratic Side, and I was mostly interested in Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton. I had liked Edwards when he ran in ’04, but now I got a bad vibe from him- he made the scumbag detector in my loins go off big time. And my Genital Scumbag detector is almost always right. It certainly was with Edwards… cheating on your wife when she is dying of Cancer, and then posing as some big family man… that is lower than low. The stench of Hypocrisy on him was so thick, it nearly choked me.
I had admired Hillary since I was girl. I don’t remember much about the Nineties. I remember that my father hated Bill Clinton. His words for Hillary were choice. I won’t repeat most of them. (“c*nt,”b*tch”, “sk*nk”). I never bothered challenging him- my teeth were just growing in and I didn’t want them to get knocked out. But I secretly liked my handsome President and his pretty blond wife. Besides, they seemed nice… despite those CSPAN testimonies and scandals about “Whitewater”… what was that all about, anyway? Well, whatever. In any case, in 2005 or so, I remember watching CNN, and Fred Phelps or Pat Robertson or some other Phony Funjelical Blowhard came on the screen, and a quote was repeated, stating that Hillary was “The Spawn of Lucifer.”
After that, I didn’t just admire Hillary Clinton. She was my hero. And still was, come 2008. But I was still going to see if I thought she was the best Candidate. So I read, It Takes a Village and Living History and Dear Socks, Dear Buddy, as well as a few Anti Hillary books that weren’t worth the paper they were written on (If you haven’t read The Truth About Hillary, by Ed Klein, then please do so…I pick it up whenever I need a laugh.) I particularly liked It Takes a Village. I didn’t think she sounded like a “National Nanny” in it at all. More like a “National Awesome Person.” All the awesomeness was going to make me spontaneously combust!
Barack Obama seemed okay, but he gave me a weird vibe. I remembered him from 2004, and that he’d said his father was a Kenyan Goat Herder. A Kenyan Goat Herder! Cool Beans. (I would later learn that his father’s Goat Herderness was yet another weird falsehood Bam made up about himself). So I read The Audacity of Hope and Dreams of My Father. Both books were about him. Geez, obsessed with himself much? I particularly disliked his butt kissing of both Bush and Reagan. All that man love for Reagan! Just go have but sex with him, why don’t you?
Barack Obama started to unnerve me. Here was a man who, as I said before I so rudely interrupted myself, ran his Campaign on Hope and Change…. and yet, when I went online, his psychotic supporters flooded blogs and websites, intimidating, attacking, smearing. Not very Hopey Changey, I thought. In fact, It was Anti Hopey Changey. Clearly, Barack Obama was not what he said he was. How could a man everyone claimed to be this beacon of hope fill the hearts of so many people, particularly young men and co-dependant women, with hate? I didn’t understand it. After all, I guess we sometimes forget it… but Hope is a beautiful thing. Change is too, if it is good or needed change. No matter what happens, I will never let Barack Obama take my hope away from me.
After the primaries ended, and we lived through that horror that was the RBC meeting… well, Little Isis had to do some soul searching. Simply put, I was confused. I remember lurking the day Riverdaughter, a person I admired greatly, first declared PUMA. Was I a PUMA? Hell if I knew. All I knew was, I had to take a break from politics.
So I did take a break. It was a Summer Break. One of the best things I did during that period was buying a kitten. I named her Isis, of course. She is now full grown. Black, with a white tuft on her chest and a pink collar. She is very soft and cuddly.
But while I played with my new kitten, the first pet I’ve ever had by the way, I still had my soul searching to do. In my heart, I still knew I was a liberal. At least a classic Liberal. Obama has never seemed all that Liberal to me. He seems more like Bush- a “Compassionate Conservative”. In other words, he likes Big Government and beating Americans with a Religion Stick. Ugh. I hate that. It is the opposite of what I am.
(That is what I always thought “Compassionate Conservatism” was, BTW. Sort of like Big Dawg’s “Third Way” was a phrase for Social Liberalism and “Fiscal Responsibility.” That’s more like it.)
I went through a lot of personal things that summer… it was hard. I hate being this age. I am old enough to smoke, vote, fight in a war, and get a Credit Card. I don’t know at what point a girl finally realizes or accepts that she is a woman… but I am not at that point. I feel like Britney Spears- Not a girl, Not yet a woman. I have spent my entire life around people who are older than me. I am the youngest of four, and I always hang around with older girls. But I envy people who have a few years on me right now. I get all that about treasuring my youth and what not… maybe one day I will be able to honestly give an opinion about our Generational differences, but right now, I cannot.
As I say this, it occurs to me that I have never actually come out and said, “I’m a PUMA”. Well, I am a PUMA… now, anyway. And I am proud of it. I know we are trying to find a way forward, and I have browsed over other posts about what we should do. Naturally, I was too lazy to read all of them, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it.
PUMA is a miracle. I get that now. It is a miracle because of what it comes from. It’s funny, because if you really think about it, Obama’s opposition achieved the very thing he claims to strive for: unity.
PUMAs aren’t just loud and proud. We have Men, Women, Gays, Straights, Believers, Non Believers, Chemists, Clowns. PUMAs are every race and creed. PUMAs are many, but never silent. We have realized, those among us that come from different worlds and beliefs, that we have more in common than we don’t, and that our differences, whatever they are, are petty compared to our goals.
But now you must be thinking, “Well, gee… that’s sweet and all… but what does this have to do with Queen Elizabeth?”
Well, you see: Queen Elizabeth was unwanted and unloved. She spent most of her life locked in a tower while her mother was executed for adultery (actually, Henry probably just got bored with her), and her Dad got married another four times.
She wasn’t supposed to be Queen, but her coronation led to the English Renaissance. I have a special place in my heart for her. I don’t know that the “Burning Times” (what Wiccans call the Dark Ages, because that was when Goddess knows how many women were accused of Witchcraft and burned at the stake) ever would have ended, had she never become Queen.
Isn’t that what it takes though? A tough broad? Nothing ever changes without Women. PUMA wasn’t just born out of a stolen Primary and a corrupt Political Process. It was born out of an acknowledgement of Cultural Misogyny and Patriarchy. It was in our faces. We were powerless to stop the daily sexist attacks against Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin.
What I hate the most about Patriarchy is the boxes it forces women into. Hillary Clinton, is a really very pretty woman who looks good for her age, and she is so smart it’s almost scary (just look at how big her head is… the brain has to fit, you know). People who have met her personally or know her personally say she is actually very nice. But to Ye Olde Small Penis Brigade, she is castrating. A cold, heartless bitch who only cares about power.
Sarah Palin is clearly dazzlingly beautiful. She obviously likes to have fun, but she is knowledgeable about the issues, Governs her State very well, and is a quick study. But to Ye Olde Small Penis Brigade, she is an air headed Bimbo who can “see Russia from her house!”
Jeez. I think these women are being treated the way they are because they threaten something.
I like that PUMAs are an “UnParty” and that we welcome conservatives as well as liberals now. But if we have a signature issue, it should be women in Government. Nothing ever changes without women. Nothing ever WILL change without women. We ARE change.
I would go so far as to say that should be our only issue. Particularly if PUMA is going to become a grassroots movement or a PAC.
What do you think?
Anyway, the point of this whole, rambling post is, I was thinking about Queen Elizabeth because she was, in her heart, a PUMA. She was an unwanted ruler… thrown under the bus by her own father. She rebelled against a corrupt system and won. And because of her, thinking changed. The clouds cleared, and Darkness passed.
PUMA has that power. We just have to use it in the right way.
I don’t care what words Dear Leader chooses to manipulate the Public. As I said before, I don’t know much. But it’s like the lyrics in my favorite video game, Kingdom Hearts says. “Regardless of Warnings, the Future doesn’t scare me at all.”
My Hope isn’t marketed or Astroturfed. It’s real.
And the PUMAs make it happen.