Oh, He Stepped in It Again

Tags

Black History Month, dogs, Election 2012, evolution, genetics, Mitt Romney

Yep, Mittens just can’t keep the old foot out of the mouth. When unscripted, the dude just falls to pieces. You can almost hear the wheels turning–focus on the middle class Mitt, focus on the middle class.

And he did.

And he said he wasn’t worried about the poor or the rich.

Oops.

It’s not just the Left that is up in arms and shaking their heads. It’s the WSJ and Limbaugh, and his Right Wingin’ supports who are holding their heads and sobbing, “why can’t this man stop screwing up?”

Much is being made of Romney’s inability to “relate to the people”, and most put it down to his riches. But as many point out, riches do not a foot-in-mouth artist make. The Kennedy’s always related to folks just fine, as did FDR. Bloomberg seems to be “in touch”.

So it’s more than that, or other than that. It ain’t the money.

Dylan Ratigan suggested on Morning Joe today that it had a bit more to do with Romney’s living in Boston.

While Joe lamented that Romney was just “weird”, Ratigan noted that Romney has never been “accepted” by the insiders from the monied elite. Now, if you know anything about the elite in this country, you know there are two types of wealth–old family wealth and nouveau riche, those who have come by their money recently.

The two don’t mix. The nouveau rich must spend sometimes years, bowing and scraping to be admitted to the “best” homes. Romney was, so Ratigan offers, also not part of the inner “Wall Street” investment capitalists.

Couple this with his apparent personality of being ill-at-ease among people in general, and you have the Romney of today. Ratigan argues that Romney would be as “removed” if he were poor. This is man who was shocked and disgusted by the anti-war movement in the 60’s, he was out of touch with his peers.

So, look for more gaffes from Mittens. As much as they try to script him, (and that is painfully obvious too), he will slip the leash from time to time and venture out into the world “as he believes it is.” He will say things that sound “right” to him, but are simply awful to the rest of us. He can’t relate. He belongs in an office at the top of a building, working alone, and making people stop at the taped spot on the floor, so that he can maintain his distance.

To figure out why this guy wants to be President, requires a much deeper look-see, and I’m sure we will be getting to that as the months come.

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They say it takes one to know one.  Pick you “one”. In this case it seems to support the rule. Rich guy endorses rich guy. The Donald is going to anoint the Mittens man. How nice. Who the hell cares?

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This is Black History month. Do yourself a favor and pick a African-American historical figure, and make a point of learning more about them. You will be better for doing so, and so will we all. History is what helps us to understand who we were, and who we are, and who we can be.

I’ve chosen to read some things about Sojourner Truth, an amazing abolitionist in her time, and the first woman honored with a bust in the Capital.

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I remember seeing this show several years ago about dogs. It seems that left to their own devices (stray dogs), they pretty much all end up very much the same. Medium in size, fairly short-haired, with longish tails. It also turns out that genetically there is very little difference between a Great Dane and a chihuahua. Just a few genes control all this “stuff”. So most of the cosmetic differences are due to human tinkering. Geneticists had figured to find something quite different, since humans are apparently quite a bit more complicated with it comes to differences.

¶

We survived the shopping expedition. Barely. We had gotten half way there, when the Contrarian discovered he had forgotten his license and cash. So I’m being driven by an “illegal”, and a poor one at that. The folks at the Chinese restaurant that we frequent most trips, like us and all, but I’m not sure they would give us our food for free.

So we had to backtrack. Which is okay, except the trip down the lane is one exciting and hair-raising experience. Actually, we don’t ride the lane, but traverse the fields, which are kinda washboardy with cut-off stalks of corn studding it all over.

Today is not my favorite day, because I have to haul half that crap back out of the fridge, and “prepare” it for the long haul. That means cleaning and packaging celery, green peppers, well all the fresh junk so it will last a week longer than otherwise. I got some beets, which by the way, are great roasted in the oven. Well, contrary to usual, the beet greens were fresh and succulent.  (I love the word succulent. It sounds well, succulent) So I determined to save them. Washed and chopped and then steamed and packed in a freezer bag. I’ll have it with something or other, maybe some meatloaf or pork chops. Saute it in olive oil, salt and pepper, with a bit of balsamic vinegar perhaps?

I love to be efficient like that, using all the “stuff”. I even put the leaves from the celery in a bag in the freezer to chop up in some soup. Frugal. (I don’t like the word frugal by the way, it sounds, like a frog, and I don’t find frogs attractive usually, except the colored ones, and they say they are poisonous and shouldn’t be touched. If I’m ever in South America, where most of them are, I am determined to remember that. Which reminds me, that I haven’t written a crazy post in quite a while–what are you looking at?)

Until the mood strikes again. Au revoir. (Just to piss off the Right)

Related articles

• Romney tries to explain remark about “very poor” – CBS News (cbsnews.com)
• Mittens: ‘I’m Not Concerned About the Very Poor’ – He says safety net will take care of them (tribuneofthepeople.com)
• Rush Limbaugh Is Upset About Romney Not Caring About ‘The Very Poor’ (But For A Different Reason) (mediaite.com)

I Know People in High Places

Tags

America, Bacon's Degrees of separation, genetics, Humor, psychology, regional language, the Lone Ranger, violence

Well kiddos, another score for me! Sorry Contrarian, but I am soooo far ahead of you. Eat my dust baby.

You undoubtedly play this game with your spouse, significant other, friend, pet, or stranger. Yeah I know you do. Just what famous celebrity could you reach out and touch? Kevin Baconish strands of connection?

First let’s set the record before I tell you of my latest coup.

The Contrarian lists the following:

• His mother met the man whose father was the Marlboro Man on the TV commercials.
• The Contrarian once sat in the chair that Fess Parker had sat in when he played Davy Crockett on TV.
• Once, when a child, the Contrarian’s mother urged his brother Gary to go and get the autograph of the nice man making the rounds at the farming exposition. She was sure he was a politician and would run for President. He did get John F. Kennedy’s autograph, but lost it before the 1960 election.

That’s it. That’s his paltry collection of “I know people in high places.”

Me on the other hand:

• I attended a summer theatre production of Arsenic and Old Lace in Flint, Michigan and saw William Shatner after the show signing autographs. I was within 8 feet of him (20 foot rule applies). I did not seek an autograph. I am so above that sort of thing.
• Jane Fonda gave an anti-war speech at MSU and stayed at our dorm that night. I stood within touching distance of her. (She is one tiny person!)
• I knew the cop who was a bodyguard for then Detroit Mayor Coleman Young and he had been to Camp David and met President Carter. (A true Bacon event)
• I shook hands with George McGovern when he was running for president.

And now I have another, and this is just an amazing one.

My high school biology teach, Mr. Everette Humphrey, owned the only known saddle of the Lone Ranger! Yes indeed. Aren’t you utterly totally and forever amazed? Now this was not the TV Lone Ranger, not Clayton Moore, but the original radio Lone Ranger.

Mr. Brace Breemer, (for that was his name) traveled widely dressed in his Lone Ranger gear. He also, at his home in Oxford Michigan, kept his horse Silver. When Mr. Breemer died, Mr. Humphrey, an avid memorabilia collector, bought the saddle.

Pretty heady stuff huh? So there you have it. I’m so far ahead, that well, I’m thinking of offering myself onto the speech-givin’ circuit to wow Americans across the land with my “I know people in high places” talk. I’m sure I can command a healthy fee. Move over Sarah, I’m taking over!

♦

What is a Maybell? Depends on where you live. Yes, language is regional. If you are the type who loves words and how they change and are changed by location, location, location, then buzz over the the Humanities Magazine and read their fun article.

And there is a book, The Dictionary of American Regional Language. This is a must for the Contrarian. Unfortunately, it’s multi-volume and probably costs a fortune.

By the way, in Wisconsin a Maybell is a lily of the valley. In Michigan it refers to a marsh marigold.

♦

We’ve had a few fairly interesting discussions about the issue of violence and how we have come to it. Is it part of us? Learned? Inevitable? Subject to evolutionary death?

Steven Pinker writes a wonderful essay on the subject and argues that we are in the most peaceful time of human history. It seems to me I posted something very recently on Pinker’s thinking, but in any case, this seems new and more importantly check out this site. It is called the Edge, and it’s mission statement is:

To arrive at the edge of the world’s knowledge, seek out the most complex and sophisticated minds, put them in a room together, and have them ask each other the questions they are asking themselves.

 Looks like a site worth keeping a close eye on. Note: there are other essays there worth taking a look at.

♦

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned the Documentary Channel and some of the interesting stuff we had got a chance to watch. I mentioned that some of them seemed rather odd, like the one about the “man with paraplegic wife who wants to open a brothel.” 

Now I assumed this was some dirty old man living up in the hills who wanted to run some girls out of his spare bedroom. Not quite the story. It related to a man and woman who lived in Australia. She was pregnant and have a massive stroke.  They were just kids and yet unmarried. She was left completely unable to move, unable to speak, but with feeling everywhere.

Well, her boyfriend married her. They have been married for like 14 years. They have two children (she is able to carry to term.  They run a sheep ranch. Prostitution is legal in Australia and he and some friends invested money and built a lovely brothel and started it up. They never got the clientele they were hoping for and have since closed.

But the amazing tale of how this man loves and cares for this woman is simply a blessing to watch.

So anyway, today the Contrarian went to the lumber yard to get a few things he needed. He stopped at the local market to get me some cream and carrots. He also got some donuts.

“Babe, I got you some donuts at Sherbon’s.”

“Yes, thanks hon. I appreciate that.”

“Always lookin’ out for my sweetie. Can I open a brothel?”

You see what I must contend with?

Nature? Nurture? Hybrid?

Tags

aging, beauty, Diane Sawyer, Elizabeth Taylor, genetics, Katherine Hepburn, Raquel Welch, skin care

I happened to run into Raquel a couple of weeks ago. No, I don’t mean I ran into her, as in, oh nice to meet you Ms. Welch. No, I mean I saw her on TV, and then again, a week or so later on GMA. (new book)

As anyone would, I was utterly amazed to learn that she was about to tip over to 70 years of age. Neither her face, hands, or neck would alert you to that fact, in fact, I would hazard a guess that she could pretty much pass for 45-50.

I recall calling the Contrarian to the TV just to see. “Isn’t that amazing?” I whispered. “Mmmhmmm,” he replied. Raquel is apparently not his type. To elucidate, substitute Holly Berry or Elizabeth Vargas from ABC, and his heart goes like a jack hammer.

I continued to marvel at how impossibly great she looked, and then I was confronted one day in my reader with this:

Liz Taylor is 78, so the two women are reasonable contemporaries.

Shocking isn’t it?

I know something of the history of Ms. Taylor. She has had severe back problems for years, operations, and subsequent addictions to both alcohol and pain killers.

She has been a food addict, and a yoyo dieter, finally succumbing it seems to eating what she wants. She apparently is mostly confined to a wheelchair.

Still she has been ravaged by age. Compare photos of each from their hay day.

As you can see, both women were gorgeous in their youth. In fact some would claim that Ms. Taylor was the most beautiful woman of her era.

So one has to ask? How could this be? Is this all genetics? Was one blessed and the other cursed? Or is it all how one cares for one’s body? I have little or no idea what Ms. Welch has done over the years to preserve her looks. But I can assume that it is highly probable that she has been careful about what she ate and drank. I can assume there is a high probability that she used a serious skin regime over the years and maybe that she even exercised.

But who can really say what has been the most important? Her hands are young looking, as least as far as I could tell, while Ms. Taylor’s bear the marks of severe arthritis. Clearly there is some genetics involved, since plenty of women do all the right things and end up being dried up old prunes with skins as taut as any Joan Rivers/Wayne Newton/Kenny Rogers incompetent surgeon could make one.

And plenty do very little and end up aging gracefully. I have no idea what regime if any Katherine Hepburn used.

Yet, she managed always to retain that glimmer of beauty to the very end. She was handsome. And that might be said of people like Meryl Streep, and a few others.

Somehow one doesn’t sense that women like Hepburn and Streep are obsessive about how they look, so it’s easier to conclude the are just genetically lucky. Welch, I place more in the very lucky and fairly obsessed category–and she reaps the bonanza.

It just got me to thinking about how much time we should waste or not on retaining our “youth” either physically or in terms of a healthy body. No doubt we can have an effect, but at what price? How much time do we have to spend in order to achieve what level of return?

I would have hated to have spent an hour or two a day and end up looking only five years younger than I am. But the tables turn drastically I suspect if you factor in longer life.

But even there, trades offs are subjective. Many wouldn’t give up their bloody mary’s and mash potatoes and gravy to gain an extra two years. Diane Sawyer who is in her 60’s looks a good ten years younger, yet she freely admits she hates exercise and munches potato chips.

I recall as a young girl hating the fact that I had oily skin. My mother used to tell me I would be happy about it when I got older. Girls with lovely dry skin, porcelain beauties, would end up with vastly more wrinkles at a much younger age. And in that she was mostly right. I have few wrinkles at 60, though only a legally blind person would mistake me for 45.

The cosmetics/food/beauty/plastic surgery/exercise industries of course make a mint off promising us everything under the sun. Heck buying the right car will bring Mr. Right to our door, so surely losing 25 pounds will do the trick, as will something called Stiletto mascara.

We to one degree or another buy into the dream that we too can make Mr. Perfect fall at our feet merely by drinking Silk, or eating some Activia. Deep down we suspect it won’t but, depending on our lives, we think it worth the try. And where most all fail, there is always another one around the corner promising us the results we dream of of, if we but part with another $19.95, or so. And for calling within the next thirty minutes, we’ll double your offer! Though how I can use two ab-twisters I have no clue.

Push it up, down out or in. Suck it down. Pin it over, lace it up, gotta suffer to be beautiful as momma used to say. But momma was never beautiful and all the creams and potions never made her so.

Ironic that a woman like Raquel, who was no actress in any real sense, and made her living off her looks and body, was graciously blessed with being able to carry on that facade for decades, leaving all her contemporaries with  Dr. Scholls, canes, full girdles, and all manner of fake accessories meant to hide as best as one can, the inevitable cruel finger of time. She has somehow escaped, and we can rejoice in her victory, while we now can nod at Liz and see that she’s rusted down to be just like us.

One is the icon still on the pedestal. The other, the funny old lady next door who we can share a cup of tea with. Go figure. And they say God doesn’t have a sense of humor.