For some minutes of the debate last night, I sat on a chair in front of the television and made rude comments and swore. I was alone, and it was fun to treat the debate as some kind of personal revival. But then I stopped enjoying myself. My heart started to pound hard against my chest, I worried about all of the United States, the world, myself, my children. I realized that Alaska was going to be pocked marked and dried up. I missed Caribou and whales. I worried about everyone's safety, so I pressed mute. This was MUCH better. I could handle this. This made viewing so much easier.
But then I started to notice things. I stared at the lacquered look of Sarah Palin and, to some extent, Joe Biden. Joe Biden's hair makes me want to go in with my Oster clippers. I am--besides a teacher and a writer--a damn fine hair cutter. Of men's hair, only, I have to say.
So here's what we need to do, STAT. Trim up that lengthy longness Joe's got going in back, and work on his incipient comb-over. A nice trim Joe Biden haircut would do me wonders. Yes, I have some obsession with hair, but really, I believe the votes will pour in. Joe, if you are reading, come on over. I will do a fantastic job, and if your hair is innocuous, it's better for us all.
Last night, I realized that women need suits, men's suits, modified, of course. There Sarah was, standing in front of the world, dressed in red pumps and a tight skirt. Those rear view shots showed the ass hugging skirt she was wearing. The sound on mute, I started to wonder why she had to parade out there looking like that. I actually missed her upsweep. As a 44-year-old-woman, why does she have the hairstyle of a girl? Why does she have on shiny red patent leather pumps? Men might not know how hard it is to walk across a stage in high heels, but even though we have a woman in this position, ready to be VP, she is tottering over to the lectern in red high heels. I guess we aren't as evolved as we hoped. And do you notice the angle of her glasses gives off a strange sort of cross-eyed vision at times?
Here's what she needs: A nice white shirt, a tie, a pair of solid loafers. She could put her hair back up and the debate could go on.
Now and then I would press on the sound. Here's what I heard: Jobs, Bush, several proper names of people in command of countries, colloquialisms, troops. I was live when Biden said that Cheney was one of the most dangerous vice presidents. Holy cow, that was refreshing. But then I had to mute again. Finally, it was over.
The fact that she didn't implode gave the talking heads something to talk about, but I turned them off and sat in my quiet house. I was okay here. I have my job. Neither of my sons is in the war. My investments aren't in the stock market, and my bank hasn't folded. In fact, my bank seems to be gobbling up the world. I don't own a house right now, and my ex husband is dealing with the bank that owns my former house. Before WaMu folded, it took away his line of credit. But that's not my business any more. My friend was robbed earlier, and though we live in the same neighborhood, my house hasn't been touched, yet.
If I could stay still and keep time from moving, maybe nothing bad would happen. McCain and Palin would never have an administration. The war would freeze. No more troops would die. The banking crisis would be halted. The burglars would pack up and decide enough was enough.
But then I became uncomfortable in my chair and stood up, knowing no matter how much denial I try to exhibit, we are headed into this election, where things much more important than hair, shoes, and glasses are at stake. I can hate what McCain and Palin stand for, but I am going to have to deal with it. I can't put the world on mute. I am going to have to turn on the sound and go on, hope for change, work for change, change myself as everything around me shifts and, hopefully, evolves.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org