PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT du Jour

There will be no discussion, observation, or opinion offered on the state of any Jenner, Kardashian, West, or their ilk on this blog.

You're Welcome.

There Just Might Be Some Hope Left After All

After yesterday's slaughter in Paris I think we've all been a little numb. We sit here, jaws agape, mind reeling, feeling impotent and violated by the deaths and injuries rendered, yet again, in the name of the Religion of Peace. Unspeakable evil. Today, the City of Lights and the world watched as the Eiffel Tower went dark in honor of the slaughtered.

Pretty moving.  But, wouldn't it have been just a teensy bit wise to arm the Paris gendarmes with something other than bicycles? Ah well. Judge not lest . . .

Anyway. The news today isn't all doom and gloom. No, indeed!  There is very good news on the horizon:  Barbara Boxer will be leaving the Senate after this term!  That tacky, nasty, condescending hypocrite will be slithering out of the Beltway to "go home."  After watching a hysterical video over at Lagniappe's Lair, I recalled a letter I wrote to the Senator a few years back after she stepped in the big middle of a fat faux pas, to-wit:

Senator Barbara Boxer
112 Hart Senate Office Building
Washington, D.C. 20510

re: Your boorish behavior

Senator:

How high is that horse you're perched upon? What were you thinking when you, with a put-upon and exasperated tone of voice, challenged Brigadier General Michael Walsh's use of the respectful salutation, "ma'am," when addressing you? You stated that you "worked very hard" to acquire the title, "Senator," and preferred that you be addressed by that title. Well, la-ti-dah.

It's clear that you were not reared in a home that practiced and taught common courtesy, much less protocol. Perhaps you should study the State Department's protocol order of preference list, or that of the U.S. Army. In doing so, you would learn that, as a Senator, you outrank the good General in civilian affairs. He was giving honor and respect to you by referring to you as "ma'am," just as he would to a military member who outranked him.

General Walsh was doing your bidding, testifying to provide you with information about Gulf Coast restoration efforts. He was there at the invitation of your committee, so he was, in essence, your guest. Is this how you treat your guests? If so, I'm grateful that I'm merely a member of the great unwashed who will never merit an invitation to see you in action as a hostess; my husband is a retired Army officer, and I might be tempted by training and genteel southern tradition to refer to you as "ma'am." I wouldn't want to offend.

Your behavior, Senator Boxer, is that of the worst kind of feminist. Your behavior is the kind that causes the good ol' boys to smile and shake hands to your face, then laugh and refer to you by derogatory names in the men's room. Your kind of feminism makes it all the more difficult for young women to break into a "man's profession." I should know -- I watched your kind make it all the more difficult for me to gain the respect of my fellow attorneys a generation ago. I thought we, as a society, had grown beyond petty sniping between the sexes.

Or, instead of sexism, is it the military that is the subject of your disdain? Either way, take a breath and think before engaging your mouth.

Sincerely,

I got no reply, but I did get a blog post out of it!  So, when I saw this video, I chuckled all the harder:


Priceless. I can't wait to see her in the rear view.

Emily Post Would be Appalled

From today's Inbox, a little note from Michelle --

Moogie --

Barack turns 51 next month, and there will be a little celebration at our house in Chicago.

We'd like to give grassroots supporters an opportunity to join in the fun. You guys deserve it, and I know Barack would personally love to see you there.

Donate $3 or whatever you can today, and you'll be automatically entered to get your name added to the guest list.

Barack's birthday is one of the last opportunities he'll get for a little downtime before the final weeks of the election.

That won't stop me from teasing him about all those new gray hairs he has -- though I think it's fair to say he's earned every one.

So if you're standing with Barack for the final months of his final campaign, there's no better way to show it than by making a donation to build this grassroots organization today.

If you do, you'll be automatically entered for the chance to join him for his birthday celebration in Chicago. We'll also fly you out and take care of all the travel arrangements.

Enter today:

https://donate.barackobama.com/Birthday

Thank you,

Michelle

Geez!  These are the gift-grubbingest people I've heard of in a long time!  "Come to my party, but not until you've sent me money.  It might not be a bad idea to bring a little extra cash with you if you win."

They seriously need a crash course in etiquette.  Or, as I pointed out more than a year ago, Southern Mothers.

The Obama Campaign: Dilettantes in Paradise

My, my.  I haven't been around for quite awhile!  I must make up for that.

I've been stewing in something for a little while, and I think I've finally put my finger on why the latest Obama campaign fundraising scheme makes me so very livid angry.  You know the one I'm talking about -- the scheme wherein the Young President suggests . . . no, the scheme in which he outright asks you to forego birthday or wedding gifts, and instead suggest that your friends and family make a donation to his campaign in your name because that's a gift that "goes a lot further than a gravy bowl," and "it’s a great way to support the President on your big day."

For real.  It's called The Obama Event Registry.

First off, the traditional wedding gift to which the campaign so snarkingly refers is a gravy boat, not a gravy bowl.  Anyone with half an ounce's training in etiquette, protocol, or even common table manners knows what this is:

Who do they have running that campaign, anyway? A bunch of Occupy Wannabes?

Next, most everybody I know awakens on his birthday or wedding day and immediately thinks, "I wonder what I can do today, my special day, to redistribute some wealth support the president's re-election campaign?"  Sure!

But finally, what really galls my soul is this: the pure, simple, unending, unconcerned narcissism of politicians has finally gone over the edge with this one.  But this "idea" goes beyond the narcissistic; it approaches the tawdry.  Simple Narcissism was the cloak worn so ably and easily by former White House denizen, Bill Clinton. 

Example from personal experience:

Way back in 1992, when then-Governor Clinton was kicking his run for the Oval Office into high gear (after having told his Arkansas constituency in 1990 that he no longer had much "fire in his belly" to think about seeking the presidency, so please re-elect him to the Governor's Mansion and don't worry about him abandoning you in mid-term), I was teaching a grant-funded Summer Enrichment program for high school students at the UALR School of Law entitled, "L.R. Law."  (Remember the old tv series, LA Law? Yeah, bad pun.)  My staff (of one) and I had two weeks to immerse the kids in the legal system of central Arkansas, teaching them and exposing them to a little bit about trials, evidence, courts, and the criminal justice system.  The capstone activity of the program was Mock Trial, in which teams of students prosecuted a made-up civil lawsuit in teams -- the Finals were to be held in the rather impressive, refurbished Art Deco courtroom in the law school, and judged by law school faculty.  The kids were really excited about it and we practiced in the courtroom often so they wouldn't be quite so nervous.

Three days before the Finals, the Dean contacted me with an unexpected opportunity for the kids -- Bill Clinton was making a campaign stop in Little Rock and wanted to address a group of high school kids.  Since school was out of session, we were the logical go-to group.  Not being a huge Clinton fan, I must say that I wasn't exactly excited about the prospect.  After figuring out how to re-schedule the opening morning session the next day, while acknowledging that this could be a once-in-a lifetime chance for many of those kids to rub elbows with national figures, and knowing that "Clinton Time" was not called that for just any old reason -- he notoriously ran late to almost any event -- I gave in and told the kids about the opportunity to hear and ask questions of the sitting Governor and potential President of the United States.

He was in rare Clintonesque form and didn't disappoint -- the students were amazed when he called me by name as he was performing the ol' handshake/pat on the shoulder maneuver, and he asked how Pepper was doing.  (They both grew up in Hot Springs, and had also had some -- encounters -- during Pepper's National Guard service.  But that's another story).  He was charming and engaging and charismatic, listening to the mesmerized kids express their hopes and dreams for the future ("Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" was played to accompany the local tv news pieces on the campaign stop -- of course). 

He also ran 1 1/2 hours late while I tried to figure out how to entertain 24 high school kids in the Law Library chosen by the Campaign for its scholarly appointments and commanding view of the Arkansas River, but not very conducive to conducting classes/exercises.  All in all, it was probably a good experience for the kids, even if it did frazzle me to the Nth degree. 

But, we were able to get in one final practice in the courtroom before the kids departed for the day. 
And, then, the Big But happened -- as I was kicking off my shoes in my office and preparing to tweak the next day's closing events, the phone rang.  On the other end was someone from the Campaign Scheduler's Office.

They wanted to use the law school courtroom the next day as a legal-ish backdrop for some nitpicky policy announcement to be made by Candidate Clinton.  And they needed it all afternoon in case they had to do several takes.  And they were very sorry about my kids, but were sure that, since the Candidate had spent time with them earlier, the kids would understand why they would now be performing their mock trials in the classroom instead of the impressive courtroom, replete with bench, witness stand, counsel tables, and jury box.  The Candidate would provide autographed photos to each child to assuage his disappointment.

And they left me to tell the kids.  Let me tell you what a roomful of deflated, dressed to lawyer-ize, high school kids looks like.  No, you don't want to know; it's too painful.

Then, the Candidate only used the courtroom for 30 minutes and I didn't find out about it until it was too late -- I could've juggled the schedule around that brief interlude and the kids could've had a much better experience.

And I've had little to no trust in the sincerity of any political candidate's expression of genuine support for education, and helping the little guy, and sharing the "stuff" with the common man ever since.  The expression "ringing hollow' doesn't come close to how those words echo in my ears.

So when the incumbent president asks young people to give up their biggest chance to start lives together with nice things -- or just with things that they don't have to buy -- in order to support his campaign . . .  I have to get up and walk around the house for a few minutes to cool off while typing this post.

A Lesson in Style and Thrift Brought to You by the First Mother

From today's in-box:

Way to set an example there, 'Shelly.