My Dog is Chelsea

I flew to New York City on Friday for my mother’s surprise 60th birthday. She no idea I was going to be in town, let alone there to throw her a party. We managed to pull the thing off without her finding out, but there were a few roadblocks along the way:

Friday, Oct. 10. 4:30 am. Joni Mitchell blasted through my alarm clock and I snoozed her more times than I remember. I eventually stumbled out of bed, fed the dog, let her out and made coffee. Then, you know, I did some dishes, scrubbed the stove’s surface, tossed some old leftovers. Because obviously I had time to kill and why not clean the kitchen before dawn? When it finally occurred to me that I should look at a clock, it was already 5:23 am. I needed to leave for the airport in 7 minutes, and I was still wearing my pajamas. Total running cost: $0, not including gas.

6:05 am. “You can still catch your flight if you run to the gate, but that means you can’t check anything and your suitcase is pretty huge.” I’ll say. Calla could’ve fit inside my suitcase with room to do laps. It was the replacement suitcase that Delta gave me after their conveyor belts/jaws of death shredded my last one to a pulp. My smaller carry-on suitcase had a broken zipper and so I was stuck dragging Australia-on-Wheels to New York. Total running cost: $57.30, including $5 to store Australia, $50 to book a later flight and $2.30 to take the MAX back home.

10:55 am. For a mere $2.25 (the bus drivers in Portland never pay attention to how much you actually put in there—in New York you’ll get kicked off before anyone overlooks the missing nickel), I hopped on the #4 on my way back to the airport. Thirty seconds later, my friend Greg called to say he could drive me to the airport for the second time today. Total running cost: $59.55, not including gas.

12:30 pm. I boarded my flight to Salt Lake. I slept through most of it and there really is nothing to report here. The layover there was short, and I quickly hopped aboard the flight to JFK. Also fairly uneventful, other than the fact that it was Breast Cancer Awareness Month aboard Delta, and after charging me I-don’t-even-want-to-tell-you-how-much for a flight, they continued to interrupt the movie to ask for donations. At the risk of sounding like Scrooge, I have to say that I prefer to choose to donate on my own time and not after I’ve paid $15 for a beer and a “meal” that only half fills me up, all the while soaring in a tin can through the atmosphere. Total running cost: $74.55.

11:15 pm. At long last, I arrived in New York. At that hour, it seemed, every flight in the airport shared the same baggage claim carousel. My New York instincts immediately shifted into gear, and I grabbed Australia-on-Wheels and navigated through the crowd of tourists on cell phones and gypsy cabbies to the taxi stand outside. I nearly ran over the woman in front of me and briefly felt bad about it, but then my inner New Yorker reminded me that it was her fault for stopping abruptly anyway. Total running cost: $134.55, including tolls and tip.

12:30 am. Home sweet home! I wheeled Australia down the steps and up to the door of my mother’s apartment building. I’d arranged with her boyfriend, John, to have her stay at his place that night so that I could safely sneak in without her knowing. That’s when I discovered the slight hitch to that clever plan: THE LOCKS HAD BEEN CHANGED—my keys no longer worked. I called my friend, Rachel, who was supposed to be staying with me, and told her that we needed a backup plan. Total running cost: $144.55, including tip.

1:00 am. A quick crosstown cab ride later, I arrived at my friend Bev’s house, who with John and myself helped plan the big shindig, and Rachel arrived 15 minutes later. The three of us were giddy from lack of sleep and stayed up late laughing about the impossibility of the situation and scheming ways to rectify it. The plates and silverware were to be delivered between 8 and 11 the next morning. Obviously we needed a key. Where we’d find one remained to be seen. Total: $154.55, not including the cost of late night electricity.

… to be continued.

I said I would tell the whole story of the surprise party, and I will (promise! It’s even saved as a draft in Wordpress). Right now I’ve got a debate to talk about.

1) I won’t even go into “Joe the Plumber.” What I do find quite funny is that “Joe” has turned up in the form of a Sixpack and a Plumber, and yet he’s also a VP Candidate. I realize that Joe the Plumber is an actual person, but you’d think that with Biden on the ticket, McCain and Palin would’ve chosen to discuss, say, Bobby Sixpack.

2) Having a baby with Down syndrome does not make a person an instantaneous expert on “special needs families.” As the sister of someone who had severe cerebral palsy, I know that Tractor Palin (or whatever his name is) has a lifetime of hurdles to jump over. But that doesn’t mean I inherently know how to improve special ed programs (other than fund them more adequately, which we all know a McCain-Palin administration wouldn’t do), and it certainly doesn’t make me qualified to be a vice president.

3) McCain’s absurd insinuation that the last two years of Democratic control of Congress has led to the financial crisis we are experiencing was downright ludicrous. I believe I shouted, “Oh, come on! That’s bullshit and you know it, you douchebag!” in the middle of the quiet bar I was watching the debate in. If McCain really believes that (which I truly doubt he does), then this man has an even thinner understanding of the causes of the crisis that I originally thought, and is in absolutely no position to solve it.

4) This isn’t limited to last night’s debate but it’s been on my mind lately: what’s up with the constant use of “pal” as a verb? Sure, it’s proper English, but before two weeks ago, how many times had you used it that way? In fact, how many times had you used the word “pal” at all? Same thing applies to “shore up.”

5) Again, this isn’t limited to the debate. And what I am about to say proves that I am no longer the same person who used to register voters regardless of party affiliation because I had a strong belief that increased voter participation is always good. But here’s the thing: it is dangerous and terrifying that the fate of our country lies in the hands a few voters in swing states who haven’t yet made up their mind.

Gail Collins put it best in today’s column: “At this point, [Obama and McCain] only care about the small chunk of undecided voters in swing states. That means a handful of people in Ohio who have managed to avoid noticing that Obama and McCain disagree on virtually every issue facing the nation and continue to insist that they are torn between them… The candidates are gearing their remarks to people who have managed to completely ignore nearly two years of news about the 2008 elections.”

Nothing is going to change between now and November 4. Either you believe that it is the role of government to provide its citizens with a social safety network because the free market doesn’t provide adequate or fair protection, or you think that making rich people richer will eventually bring up everyone else.

If you haven’t yet figured out which one you agree with, perhaps you’re simply not informed enough to vote.

(I know, I’m mean and I must be anti-American. But hey. Your civic duty is not simply to vote. It is to cast an informed vote. And if you are still “torn” between these two candidates, then I have trouble believing you are anything but uninformed or, worse, apathetic. Sorry. You can leave hate mail in the comments if you so care to.)

I’m in New York. For this:

My mother had no idea that I’d be in town, let alone here to help throw her a surprise 60th birthday party. Details to come.

The debate last night was as predictably useless as every other.

Sarah Palin performed nearly exactly as I was expecting: she was charming, personable, friendly, vague and well-spoken (relative to recent performances), and she of course dodged nearly every difficult question. Joe Biden was surprisingly direct, clear, composed, succinct and charming—and definitively emerged as the candidate who knows what the hell he’s talking about. Sarah Palin didn’t melt down into a sobbing ball or talk about Putin rearing his head over Alaska, which is of course what we all wanted to see, but certainly not what we should’ve expected. In fact, that she was able to keep it together so well was as predictable as the you betcha’s she tossed in for good measure. Here’s why:

We all heard warnings that Palin is a good debater. But that isn’t true—she’s not a good debater at all. She is, however, an excellent deliverer of unchallenged stump speeches (when she’s lucky enough to remember which one to cue) that make her sound like a somewhat well-spoken human being. Problem is—what we saw last night was not a debate. It was no more than a glorified press conference.

Palin said it herself: “I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear, but I’m going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record also.” For now, let’s set aside the issue that “talk straight” implies a linear, logical, rational and fact-based thought process that Palin has yet to demonstrate. Let’s focus on the other problematic part of that statement: that a debate, by definition, is a method of discourse through which both sides of an argument are examined. But a one-sided, I-choose-the-questions-I-want-to-answer mini-speech? That feels more like something that belongs in the White House rose garden than a debate hall.

Of course, everyone knows the cows will come home to milk themselves (and bottle it) before you hear a politician employing legitimate straight talk. Politicians dodge questions all the time. Usually, though, they provide at least a modicum of answer to the question on hand. Especially at a debate, where choosing to avoid a question constitutes—or at least should constitute—a lost argument.

Part of the fault lies on Gwen Ifill, who might as well have been a teleprompter automatically tossing out questions. A moderator’s job is to  push the conversation along, encourage an effective dialogue and keep the candidates in check. If one candidate basically says, “Sorry, I will not adhere to the rules of this debate. Instead, I will talk about the topics of my choosing,” the moderator should step in and say, “That’s nice, but you need to at least attempt to answer this question. Otherwise, we would’ve simply re-broadcasted your RNC speech.”

Biden is also partially to blame for not challenging Palin to engage more thoroughly, although his hands were admittedly tied. God forbid he do something sexist or patronizing like, you know, argue with a woman (gasp!). He sure did his darndest to be nice to the Governor, and perhaps erred a bit too much on the side of ignoring the absurdity of what she was saying.

More at fault, of course, is the McCain-Palin machine that built the convoluted, illogical factory that spouts out crap about how attacks on Palin’s experience and qualifications amount to sexist bigotry. Such a claim is sexist in and of itself, and unfair and highly degrading to women everywhere who have fought long and hard for equal treatment.

We know that Palin is a good public speaker when she’s comfortable and holding the reins—when she’s able to spew rehearsed high-level overviews of issues and talk passionately about them. Her RNC speech and the bits and pieces we heard last night all point to her ability to speak to her audience and engage them. She flounders, though, when she’s challenged to think on the fly (or, rather, simply think) about specifics and details—hence the Katie Couric debacle.

So if our country held real debates, in which candidates truly took each other to task by using rational arguments to prove the other side wrong, Sarah Palin would’ve found herself treading Arctic waters and grabbing for a disappearing iceberg. But between Ifill’s silence, Biden’s fear of coming across as patronizing and the load-of-crap “you’re being sexist” life preserver, Palin was all but guaranteed total control of that psuedo-debate.

Call it a free ride on an Alaskan cruise ship.

Aden Nak put it best:

And finally—did anyone else notice that Palin may actually not know the definition of the phrase “Achilles’ heel”? Observe this bit of transcript:

IFILL: Let’s talk conventional wisdom for a moment. The conventional wisdom, Governor Palin with you, is that your Achilles heel is that you lack experience. Your conventional wisdom against you is that your Achilles heel is that you lack discipline, Senator Biden. What is it really for you, Governor Palin? What is it really for you, Senator Biden? Start with you, governor.

PALIN: My experience as an executive will be put to good use as a mayor and business owner and oil and gas regulator and then as governor of a huge state, a huge energy producing state that is accounting for much progress towards getting our nation energy independence and that’s extremely important.

I’d post the rest of her answer here, but it’s rambling and nonsensical and equally as stuffed with fluff, and you can read it for yourself if you choose. The point is this: not only did she not bother to address the question, her bizarre response gives me little faith that she even understood the question to begin with. This wasn’t a matter of the Republican “no, I will never admit a flaw” mantra. This was just pure bullshit.

MDIC: Palin, is the sky blue?

PALIN: My experience as an executive will be put to good use as a mayor. [wink]

POST-DEBATE COMMENTATOR: Palin really nabbed that blue sky response! She winked at the camera, clearly demonstrating her ability to connect with the American people.

Ours, truly, is a pathetic country.

SIGH.

Yours until the cows also start skimming off the fat,
My Dog is Chelsea

I was just over at the New York Times website, and noticed these photos:

The press always runs (often unflattering) pictures of politicians while they are mid-sentence. Let’s evaluate facial expressions, shall we?

But I guess we just see what we want to see. (Although, objectively, it would be difficult to see W as anything but a dumbass in that photo—he simply looks ridiculous.)

Speaking of objectivity, or complete lack thereof, this clip from Fox News gave me a good hoot today in the office:

(Found that here.)

After you’ve watched it once, go back and watch again, this time focusing on the elderly couple that appears about halfway through the video in the back of the room. They are adorably hilarious.

That is enough out of me for tonight.

Except: Make sure you are registered! And if you’ve moved, don’t forget to update your address with the board of elections—especially if you’ve lost your house to foreclosure.