Whenever an election rolls around, at least in my lifetime, it seems that the issues which cause such derision are the ones that have to do with religion and sex. Here's why this scares the living dead zombie lights out of me:
1) The forefathers of this country knew mixing religion and politics was a bad idea. It's like mixing business and your personal life or asking a family member to be your power of attorney. It's not a good idea, because emotions and thousands of years of tradition cloud your judgement and inhibit your ability to make rational decisions. We have some faults in America, but being the youngest kid on the block actually allowed us to learn that mixing religion and law ends in some serious mo-fo bloodshed. Using your religious beliefs as a reason to vote or not vote for someone or something means that the rich folks holding the puppet strings have successfully convinced you that religion will play a factor in governing this country, when, in fact, the First Amendment expressly prohibits it. High treason I say! Tantamount to burning the flag.
2) Democrats believe in more laws and Republicans believe in less laws, right? Well, I can't say that I've ever seen evidence of this. I think they both create the same amount of laws, probably not as many as they used to be able to when there wasn't so much bi-partisan bitching. What I've witnessed this year is a lot of frivolous law making in order to scare the piss out of people. Voter IDs, abortions banned unless it's because of an "actual" rape...or not (again?!) and marriage amendments? C'mon. That's like shining a giant flashlight onto vaginas and gay people, far away from climate change and the economy. "Guys, hey, look over here!" "Ooo, shiny!"
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Now that I got that out of the way, I think we really need to take a deep breath before we walk into that little booth on Tuesday. Regardless of which religion you call your own, remember that this is about LAW, not RELIGION. As long as we keep it that way, we all get to keep going to whichever church we want.
If you don't think gay people should get married, then continue to go to a church that won't allow it, and just don't invite me to join you. Call me when you're done and we can have a beer or something. I hear a lot of people say that this is a personal belief thing and that they wouldn't make me feel bad for my beliefs; we are all allowed to vote whichever way we want, it's true. In fact, I love that about this country! Cheers to us! However, for the record, I hope that if I ever backed a LAW that discriminated against someone because of who they love (something they can't control) that you would, by all means, make me feel bad. Stand up to me. Write a blog post about it. I promise I'll read it.
Now that we're on the subject, boy have the flashlight shiners done an excellent job with this gay marriage thing in Minnesota. I've seen more signs in lawns on this subject than anything else, and I am all for the fervor we've all gotten into over it because when one group is being discriminated against because they're different, we as Americans stand up for them and fight along side them until things change. See: World War II and civil rights. But don't you ever just sit back and say "Wow. Are we really spending all this time and money on preventing consenting, taxpaying adults from...loving each other? sharing a home? starting a family?"
I've said it a few times, but boy. We just had the hottest summer on record. There are people who don't have enough to eat. Rape is still the most unreported crime. And we're worried about our neighbors loving each other and wanting to make it legal? And, I'm off my soapbox. Let's have that beer next Sunday. Because we can. Even if we disagree. That's the beauty of this place. Cheers.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Case of the Sundays
This will be the first post I have written where I didn't have at least a vague idea of what I was going to write about before I started typing. I have a few blog subjects floating around in that abyss I call my brain, but none of them are giving me that familiar, or you may say unfamiliar given the pathetic amount of entries I have, itch.
I hate Sundays. I don't remember always feeling this way. I think it has to do with working in a cubicle since 1998, or my excessive (albeit well hidden from most people) anxiety problems, or possibly a throwback from my Catholic school days when I probably felt guilty all day after church, or maybe I'm like President Bartlett on West Wing, plagued with the constant "what's next" disease.
Whatever the cause, I do find myself afflicted with a kind of incurable dread on Sundays. Sometimes it's worse than others; for example, I didn't find myself in this crappy mood when I was on vacation and facing a week of fun instead of a week of work. Therefore, I often attribute the cause to dread for work and "real life." It's not just that though. It's almost as if Sunday is the day my mind has assigned to wander to that land which is no good for anyone: regret for the past and worry for the future. It would be almost ok if this was the only time I did this to myself, but I do it often enough during the week that I don't actually need an entire day assigned to it.
I woke up in a great place, made breakfast for dear friends, ran 4.5 miles, took a long bath and read for a while, all things I love. Yet here I am, back to the same old pointless spot, feeling like I'm stuck here, letting every little thing set me off down a road that will only dead end, thinking about things I really have no control over. Funny how I know this, yet I find myself coming back here over and over.
Bygones. I think I said something in my last post about making my next post more upbeat and funny, so I'll end with a joke:
What did the zero say to the eight?
"Nice belt."
I hate Sundays. I don't remember always feeling this way. I think it has to do with working in a cubicle since 1998, or my excessive (albeit well hidden from most people) anxiety problems, or possibly a throwback from my Catholic school days when I probably felt guilty all day after church, or maybe I'm like President Bartlett on West Wing, plagued with the constant "what's next" disease.
Whatever the cause, I do find myself afflicted with a kind of incurable dread on Sundays. Sometimes it's worse than others; for example, I didn't find myself in this crappy mood when I was on vacation and facing a week of fun instead of a week of work. Therefore, I often attribute the cause to dread for work and "real life." It's not just that though. It's almost as if Sunday is the day my mind has assigned to wander to that land which is no good for anyone: regret for the past and worry for the future. It would be almost ok if this was the only time I did this to myself, but I do it often enough during the week that I don't actually need an entire day assigned to it.
I woke up in a great place, made breakfast for dear friends, ran 4.5 miles, took a long bath and read for a while, all things I love. Yet here I am, back to the same old pointless spot, feeling like I'm stuck here, letting every little thing set me off down a road that will only dead end, thinking about things I really have no control over. Funny how I know this, yet I find myself coming back here over and over.
Bygones. I think I said something in my last post about making my next post more upbeat and funny, so I'll end with a joke:
What did the zero say to the eight?
"Nice belt."
Monday, July 9, 2012
Pink is for Boobies
I'm going to preface this rant of mine with the following:
- I hate cancer, I have many relatives who have died from it
- I'm proud of anyone who does anything to help create positive change
- This is by no means a rant against people who fight breast cancer
- If you are easily offended, stop reading
- Constant readers, this one isn't as funny as my other posts...I'll work on something more entertaining!
My grandmother died after having a few heart attacks when I was only 2. At the time, my mom was in her late twenties and had to face losing her mother. I can't imagine what that must have been like, since having my mom around my 4-year-old is one of the few things I really enjoy. Given the advanced state of my ennui, there's not much I enjoy more. My mom has the same heart issues and is only alive today because she is taking advantage of modern advances in medicine which help to unclog her arteries...for the most part.
I myself have high cholesterol, despite being of a relatively healthy weight. Yes, I'll admit I like my liquor and cheese, but I've had high cholesterol since the first time I asked for it to be tested, at 24 or so when I ate better and exercised much more. So, I have the telltale medical sign which points to the same fork in the road, or, better put, blockage in the road. That's 3 generations in a row, probably more I don't know about.
On to the boobies. I am a marketer by trade, and the movement to fight breast cancer impresses me. The whole thing kills me: use of the color pink, which I despise but would have chosen too, the use of fun little phrases like "save the boobies," which I love, is really quite smart. It draws attention to what is, in most cases, a woman's disease. It's an awful thing, taking grandmothers, mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, etc. This is therefore a uniquely "pink" cancer. Loving the marketing genius who came up with this pink ribbon stuff.
It bugs me though.
I often ask people (I'm sure they think, as they do often, "Christ, here goes Jen again") what they think the number one killer of women in the good ol' USA is. Their answer is often breast cancer. In fact, the number one killer of women is heart disease. See for yourself: http://www.cdc.gov/women/lcod/. All other forms of cancer combined make up the number 2 slot.
It bugs me because I see pink everywhere and all I can think is that we are extremely pre-occupied with saving boobies, when really we are trying to save women.
We often actually cut off the boobies in order to save the woman. I suppose the sentiment is that in order to save said boobies, we need to find a cure for this disease. I guess it bugs me because my mom and grandma had something else that is just as contagious to their offspring and actually kills many more women. It probably also bugs me because I think that if the disease my mom and grandma had involved a boob, it might get a better marketing campaign, any marketing campaign really.
It bugs me because in surveys, women say they fear breast cancer more than heart disease. This could be because of the excellent marketing campaign I discussed earlier, or it could be because of simple vanity. Both bug me, and it's probably a little of both, but even the not knowing as the result of a pink campaign is a tough one. I hate, almost more than anything, people who choose to be ignorant.
It bugs me because I need to do more, and I wish I had a nationally advertised 3-day walk to show support for my mom and grandma. It bugs me because I know I need to do more...although this is the best way I know how.
- I hate cancer, I have many relatives who have died from it
- I'm proud of anyone who does anything to help create positive change
- This is by no means a rant against people who fight breast cancer
- If you are easily offended, stop reading
- Constant readers, this one isn't as funny as my other posts...I'll work on something more entertaining!
My grandmother died after having a few heart attacks when I was only 2. At the time, my mom was in her late twenties and had to face losing her mother. I can't imagine what that must have been like, since having my mom around my 4-year-old is one of the few things I really enjoy. Given the advanced state of my ennui, there's not much I enjoy more. My mom has the same heart issues and is only alive today because she is taking advantage of modern advances in medicine which help to unclog her arteries...for the most part.
I myself have high cholesterol, despite being of a relatively healthy weight. Yes, I'll admit I like my liquor and cheese, but I've had high cholesterol since the first time I asked for it to be tested, at 24 or so when I ate better and exercised much more. So, I have the telltale medical sign which points to the same fork in the road, or, better put, blockage in the road. That's 3 generations in a row, probably more I don't know about.
On to the boobies. I am a marketer by trade, and the movement to fight breast cancer impresses me. The whole thing kills me: use of the color pink, which I despise but would have chosen too, the use of fun little phrases like "save the boobies," which I love, is really quite smart. It draws attention to what is, in most cases, a woman's disease. It's an awful thing, taking grandmothers, mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, etc. This is therefore a uniquely "pink" cancer. Loving the marketing genius who came up with this pink ribbon stuff.
It bugs me though.
I often ask people (I'm sure they think, as they do often, "Christ, here goes Jen again") what they think the number one killer of women in the good ol' USA is. Their answer is often breast cancer. In fact, the number one killer of women is heart disease. See for yourself: http://www.cdc.gov/women/lcod/. All other forms of cancer combined make up the number 2 slot.
It bugs me because I see pink everywhere and all I can think is that we are extremely pre-occupied with saving boobies, when really we are trying to save women.
We often actually cut off the boobies in order to save the woman. I suppose the sentiment is that in order to save said boobies, we need to find a cure for this disease. I guess it bugs me because my mom and grandma had something else that is just as contagious to their offspring and actually kills many more women. It probably also bugs me because I think that if the disease my mom and grandma had involved a boob, it might get a better marketing campaign, any marketing campaign really.
It bugs me because in surveys, women say they fear breast cancer more than heart disease. This could be because of the excellent marketing campaign I discussed earlier, or it could be because of simple vanity. Both bug me, and it's probably a little of both, but even the not knowing as the result of a pink campaign is a tough one. I hate, almost more than anything, people who choose to be ignorant.
It bugs me because I need to do more, and I wish I had a nationally advertised 3-day walk to show support for my mom and grandma. It bugs me because I know I need to do more...although this is the best way I know how.
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