Do you know what the Dalai Mama has discovered? There are two kinds of people: optimists and pessimists. And when the shit hits the fan, IMHO, it is better to be an optimist. I’ve also discovered that E.J. Dionne, The Washington Post columnist, was right when he quoted a pollster friend recently:
“When you give conservatives bad news in your polls, they want to kill you,” he said. “When you give liberals bad news in your polls, they want to kill themselves.”
Last week, even though I am an eternal optimist, I wanted to kill myself when the Prez acted like his strength had been zapped by anniversary sex (Didn’t anyone tell POTUS and the FLOTUS that just because it was their 20th anniversary not to do the “wild thing” before sending the Prez into the boxing ring against Romney?). Every athlete knows you can’t be distracted or have your potency drained before the big fight even if your honey of twenty years is one fine lookin’ woman. Mohammad Ali could have told the Prez that salient piece of advice from his championship days. I mean, what else could it have been? I’m just sayin’. Next time: Focus, Barack, focus goddamn it!
Anyway, an election that was beginning to look like a slam-dunk for anybody who is part of the 47% or cares about human beings in general, or adheres to the “true” teachings of Christ, suddenly came up for grabs as the polls tightened and The Mittens trounced our President in the first debate and declared a fatwā against Big Bird and his homies on Sesame Street. (I don’t know about you, but threatening the big yellow six-year-old bird whose raison d’etre is to teach little kids the alphabet was the last straw: “Your ass is mine, Mittens, and you are going down,” I screamed at the TV as I slid into the worst depression I’ve suffered in years.)
Sesame Street to Mittens: “let’s rumble”||image of weknowmemes.com
Then the sharks began to circle the perceived “blood in the water,” as hateful vitriol intensified against our president and his legitimacy, women and reproductive rights (“legitimate” and/or “easy” rape), 47% as “takers” not makers, and black people in general who “need to be taught good discipline and character as per Paul Ryan, the arrogant Catholic. Finally, the week was topped off by a truck load of manure dumped in front of an Obama campaign headquarters in my home state of Ohio. As a born-again Christian who is fed up to my eyeballs with the numb-nut stupidity of my ex-religious leaders (I have summarily left the Church but kept my Jesus), I waited for at least one prominent Christian evangelical leader who claims to love Jesus to come forth and speak up for Big Bird, speak up for the poor and down-trodden, speak up against the “Christian” Congressman who claims our daughters can be “legitimately raped,” and speak up against the latest racist claim by a “Christian” legislator that “slavery should be considered a ‘blessing’” cause it brought Africans to America where we are so incredibly blessed. (Well, we black people truly thank you, Massa!)
Fired by “Mittens”|image by mashable.com
All I heard was the sound of crickets—no righteous Christian leaders speaking up to defend the poor and down-trodden like Jesus did. And the Dalai Mama wept as I decided to pack my suitcase in disgust and move to Canada (where else am I going to get healthcare in my old age if Romney/Ryan wins the election?). My husband, WW, who is white and also a born-again Christian suggested I not be too hasty, and that I take a road trip to the beach with him to clear my head before I did something so drastic that I’d have to learn French before migrating to Quebec (if one must live in Canada, one must do so in Quebec City because it’s like moving to France). I really trust his judgment so I acquiesced to his plan, but told him if the beach didn’t manage to cheer me up, he’d better brush off his passport and dust off his French.
Abolitionist, Frederick Douglas calling Christianity to task for its deceptive stance on
slavery and women’s rights in the 1800’s ||image from leftcheek.bloogspot.com and joanhascheeseburger.com
On our way to the beach, we were forced to stop at a Chick-fil-A, which was the only eating establishment within miles because as WW said, “I am too hungry to stand on principle because I have to piss like a race horse and I am falling asleep at the wheel from lack of food.” With baseball cap pulled down over my face and large bumble-bee sunglasses secured to disguise my face, I furiously lectured my husband about my signed online petition against Chick-fil-A and how they perfectly illustrated one of the reasons I was going to have to migrate to Canada, because of their contributions to organizations that specialized in hate. As we scurried past long lines of very fat-bottomed white people (I was the only black person for miles around, and my ass is quite normal, thank you very much!) who were still engaged in their month’s long “chicken-in” demonstration of support for Chick-fil-A against the gays, my husband made me promise not to go all Norma Rae all over the place and get myself arrested while he was in the little boy’s room “pissing like a race horse.”
Cartoonist: Mike Lukovich/Atlanta Journal
I refused to even order a soda, and I know that I stuck out like a raisin in a bowl of milk, so it didn’t take long before one of the employees came over to ask if she could help me as she looked me over with a frozen smile on her face trying to determine if I was a lesbian reporter about to cause all kinds of trouble up in that place. I don’t know what motivated her to engage me in conversation. Maybe it was the fact that I was furiously taking notes in my blog notebook while trying to hide my face, or maybe she saw me contemplating what it would take to climb up on one of the tables without falling off and breaking my ass to start my Norma Rae impersonation as I mounted my very vocal protest: “Why do you hate gay people; what have they ever done to your chicken except eat it like the rest of us? Why can’t we all get along in this great country of ours, and What Would Jesus Do to you if he knew the hate you were spewing against his children with our chicken dollars?” Just as I thought I saw Sarah and Todd Palin queuing up for a couple bags of chicken which gave me all the motivation I needed to start my revolution, WW returned, grabbed me by the arm and marshaled me back to the mini-van before the two policemen staring at me in the corner had a chance to put down their chicken sandwiches, arrest my sorry-ass, and ruin our beach vacation by throwing me in jail for disturbing the peace.
The Palins “protesting” on behalf of Chick-fil-A|thedailywhat.cheeseburger.com
After WW convinced me that I was hallucinating from lack of food and backed up urine, and that I didn’t really see The Palins in that Chick-fil-A, I spent my vacation at the beach thoroughly bummed out about the first presidential debate until one of my blog friends gave me a verbal swift kick in the ass (Frank Angle) and told me to “snap out of it.” WW added his two cents and told me to cheer up because “it’s not over for the presidential election, or anything in life for that matter, until the fat lady sings—so don’t worry, be happy” (and WW is a pessimist—go figure)! Once I realized WW wasn’t talking about me as the “fat lady” (I’m slightly chunky and an ex-opera singer), the clouds lifted, my optimistic personality came back into gear, and I returned home, ready to greet a new day. I am going to add a couple of disciplinary actions for my mind, however: I don’t plan to watch anymore debates (I’m an Independent but I’ve already made up my mind so why be tortured), and I don’t plan to read any more stories about what the haters are doing in our midst to rob me of my God-given joy. Haters will always be hatin’—but I don’t have to be listenin’! (I’ll just keep prayin’ that God zaps their sorry asses into the lowest point of Hell, though, so that the rest of us can live in peace!)
Haters be hatin’ but I’m gonna ignore ‘em all and just be chillaxing
image from joanhascheezburger.com
I am discovering that there are two ways to live one’s life: either as Henny-Penny (“The sky is falling”) or as Little Orphan Annie (“The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow”). Henny-Penny may be proved right in the long run, but Orphan Annie will have a hell of a lot more fun and peace of mind before the sky flattens her, especially since she has little to no control over the powers that are making the sky fall. So to all of my “depressed Democratic friends,” get up off your sorry-asses and do the only thing in your “Orphan Annie” power that can defeat the Koch Brothers, the racists, the shit dumpers, the liars, the Ayn Randians, the 47% haters, and the 1% makers: GO VOTE, take a friend, and say a little prayer while you do it! We may just win the day ‘cause God is alive and well and “God don’t like ‘ugly’ (a.k.a. ‘haters’).” (Besides, WW thinks Obama will win a second term, and he’s a pessimist!)
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you’re chewing on life’s gristle,
Don’t grumble, give a whistle,
And this’ll help things turn out for the best, and…
ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE. . .
Life’s a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke, it’s true.
You’ll see it’s all a show,
Keep ’em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
SO. . .ALWAYS LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE. . .
“Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” from The Life of Brian by Eric Idle
“Between the optimist and the pessimist, the difference is droll. The optimist sees the doughnut; the pessimist the hole!”—Oscar Wilde
“Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.”—Helen Keller
“For myself I am an optimist – it does not seem to be much use being anything else”—Winston Churchill
“In the long run the pessimist may be proved right, but the optimist has a better time on the trip.”—Daniel L. Reardon
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