Even Dooce is Getting Poltical, so I Guess I Should, Too

Every little subculture has their god, their holy being for which the entire group revolves. You know, like the way all the chest-beating UFC fans (love ya, Dad) swoon over that bald-haired beauty Chuch Lidell. Or, the way aspiring Susie Homemakers get all tingly in their panties when Martha Stewart rolls out her full assault strategy for the perfect Mexican Fiesta Birthday Celebration, approaching the party as though they are mounting a military a coup. The glass will be tinted purple and full 3/4 to the brim with cactus-shaped ice cubes, the sombrero pinata will be stuffed with chocolate grown in the Yucatan and then air-expressed via Air Mexico (love you, Mollie.)
In the ever-expanding world of female bloggers, snidely coined "mommy bloggers" by the geniuses at The New York Times (you know, the same assholes who ran daily prewar stories about Iraq's hand in 9/11, which turned out to be, I don't know, false), we worship at the alter of Dooce. She can write witty ass jokes and lay out cleaver bribes she pulls on her kid and we suck it all up like adoring lap dogs. Even those of us who aren't totally hypnotised by her brilliance are intrigued by her unchallenged reign of Blogger Extraordinaire. From jotting down the silly bullshit her husband and daughter do, which is freakin' child's play in comparison to my man and his two hellcat spawns, Dooce's blog supports her family. I am awestruck and jealous all at the same time.
I have to admit, I check her blog daily, often many times. Normally I giggle a little and then think to myself how much I want to be Dooce.
Dear Jesus, why didn't you make me Dooce? I don't want to be me, I want to be the awesome, rockin' Dooce.
But, like Chuck Lidell isn't the only badass who can defeat a wiry opponent by forcing their face to his crotch or like Martha Stewart isn't the lone domestic goddess to over-coordinate a 2-year-old's birthday party, Dooce isn't the only female blogger to make me giddily squeel, "Oh no she di'nt." They all bring something different to the table. From Anna, I get all knowed-up on the necessity of high-end eyebrow waxers, quite beneficial to a lady like me who buzzes hers off with her man's shaver and calls that bitch good. Cathy inspires me to cook outside the box, to turn my shabby kitchen into a gourmet masterpiece. She's a little Martha herself, I suppose. While Suzanne and I share many political views, I really love her site because, like me, she believes there are some places no razor belongs. Listen fellas, I just don't care what Jenna Jameson did.
But, as a political junkie, I normally get the best fix at PunditMom. Through the last week, I've been there multiple times a day, my head all drunk with the notion of a mayor running the vice presidency.
There are about 25 other blogs I visit on a daily basis and they all have a unique flair they bring to my otherwise bland life, but I would never get to the meat of this bloggy sandwich if I didn't get to it. So, here goes. Step aside, rambling, my readers want a point, any point. Focus.
When I went through my daily stalking, I mean reading, of Dooce yesterday, I giggled a little when she wrote about the universe humping her face. That shit happens to me all the time. Then I read the rest of the post, the part about her anger over McCain's choice of the unqualified Sarah Palin. Dooce doesn't normally write about politics, so it kinda took me back for a second. Then, of course, my infatuation grew into unfettered love and I wondered to myself if she would leave her man to be my first lesbian lover.
At the risk of firing up my conservative friends and family, I agree with Dooce. Now, I know I have already disclosed that I worship her Holy Blogginess at least three times a day, you know, like Muslim people turning to the East in prayer, so you probably think that my opinion is comprised. During Sarah Palin's speech on Wednesday evening, I cussed and spit, shouting at Rowdy how distorted I thought many of her statements were. He just agreed, not because he really agreed (He's a nutty Republican. Can you believe I married one?), but because he knows with even a smigen of encouragement, I will ramble on 'til his ears bleed. For a calmer, fact-founded, non F word flinging article from the Associate Press over the misrepresentations of Palin, click here. This was also in Dooce's post. Seriously, read it.
As far as Republicans go, I have always loved John McCain. Just ask my husband. I haven't always agreed with him and I certainly won't vote for him, but he hasn't come close to making my head spin around like that little girl in Poltergeist. Now, George Bush, that's a whole other story. But, no matter who John would've picked, short of Chuck Hagel, I am an Obama Momma.
That said, like Dooce, I am fired up about his selection of Sarah Palin. Not because she is a mother to all those kids or because her 17-year-old daughter is pregnant (abstinence-only education, bay-bay). Just like I don't give a shit about who Bill Clinton or John Edwards are screwing, I don't care that Bristol Palin is getting down with that hot hockey player or that Sarah Palin is reproducing like Catholics on a Mardi Gras binge. I take that back, I do care about that hockey hottie. Bristol, my email address is shondy26@hotmail.com. Be a good girl and email a desperate, old housewife some steamy details about that hot piece of Alaskan ass. I totally love you, Levi Johnston.
Anyways, I've got to stop daydreaming about Palin's superfly future son-in-law or I won't get a thing done. I don't want Sarah Palin as my vice president because I've already lived through 8 years of Cheney. I don't want a vice president who has made statements that the War in Iraq is a mission from God. Hitler told the Germans that invading Poland was exactly that, a mission from God, but that didn't make it so. I don't want a vice president who asks her church to pray for completion of pipelines. I don't want a vice president who doesn't believe in global warming, or at least that it is being caused by man. I don't want a vice president whose spouse belonged to the Alaskan Independence Party, a group dedicated to leaving the USA and starting their own country. Country First, what? And, I don't want a vice president who has run a town smaller than Elk City and been a governor for 20 months. I know Alaska is the largest in size, but it is the smallest in population.
As John McCain gave his acceptance speech last night, my entire family cuddled in our bed, Rowdy and I absorbed each word while Ridge and Rolan bounced over one another. As my darling boys played hide-and-seek under the covers, I touched my husband's hand. Even though this wasn't my party's convention, it was a very "American Dream" moment. We felt very much like our dreams were coming true as a young couple with our two small and healthy children and I know it will be one of those Wonder Years memories that stays with me always. Plus, I discovered that John McCain used to keep company with strippers and I fell a little in love with him. You know I love a dirty dog.
John McCain made some pledges in his speech I hope he keeps, like the one where he vows to re-educate workers whose jobs have been shipped overseas in the last eight years or the resources he promised to our educational systems. He vowed to make college more available for upcoming Americans and I sincerely pray he follows through. Like John McCain, I am a Christian and, like John McCain has said on many occasions, I believe religion doesn't have a place in government. When our country bombs another, and there will be times we do, I don't want a president that tells me God told him to do this. I want a president that tells me he weighed all the options and this was all he had left. I've always felt that when a leader puts that decision on God, they also give him the deaths of the innocent people who perish because of it. Although I knew I probably wouldn't vote for John, I have found comfort that, when faced with that kind of violent and tragic decision, that he knew all the subsequent fall-out from that sort of warfare would be held at the hands who made it. I think it makes a leader think a little more about the choice they are making if they don't convince themselves that they aren't responsible for the innocent casualties. I've respected John's persistence, especially when he has gone up against his own party, like when he voted against the Constitutional amendment to define marriage between a man and a woman. With his pick from the religious right, I hope his belief wields his potential administration's policy on that, not the other way around.
Of America's 43 presidents, nine of them have to office by the death of resignation of their predecessor. Some crazy religious zealots are praying through their blogs that McCain be elected and them smited by God (I guess that's nut talk for killed) so, I don't know, the country can be one big church. As I type that, I am seriously shrugging because the thought of praying for one man to be elected and then off'd is something I cannot wrap my mind around. Can you?
As a war protester held up a sign that said, "You Cannot Win an Occupation," and chanted something I could not make out, John McCain said that American wants us to stop yelling at each other.
Well, in between that and your former love of strippers, you almost have my vote, John. (To me, promiscuity is a sign of real leadership skills. Stop laughing, I am being serious. You know I love Bill Clinton). I think you've been a great servant to the nation, John, I do. If those fruit loops weren't putting some voodoo hex on you as I type this, maybe I could. If their vengeful prayers are answered, you'll be swallowed by the Earth or turned to stone or some other Biblical nightmare and I just can't get behind your girl.
Okay, now I have to go. I bet Dooce has posted something new and I'm having separation anxiety.

Spiders on Crack and Lesbian Love Affairs

Okay, I'm really sorry that I didn't get the photos from Ridge's first day up yet. I was tired, so I took a nap. I said I'm sorry, dammit. You'll get 'em tomorrow.
As I've already disclosed on a previous blog, nothing warms my heart more than praise that stroke my eccentric ego. Yes, I love you Mommy gets close, real close to be exact. But, still, no cigar. I'm sure before too much longer I'll brainwash Ridge and Rolan to run their little fingers through my hair as they tell me how much smarter I artie wrote:am than all the other mommies. But, until then, I will just have to get that crazy need from you, my darling readers.
Almost as much as creative idol-worshipping, I love that so many of you get my twisted sense of humor. Next to a downpour or compliments upon my genius wit, nothing warms my heart like tits and ass jokes. I love you Mommy applies to this as well. As a mother of sons, I know someday my boys and I will have that to bond over. There friends are totally gonna be like, "Dude, where's your mom? We want to hear some of those fabulous ass jokes."
And then the boys are going to be not-at-all embarrassed. I'm sure winning life's parental lottery is going to be a blessing to them.
Anyways, back to my readers, my favorite people on Earth, people I love more than Bill Clinton. And I didn't even know that was possible. Unless of course Bill is reading and then he would be totally unsurpassable.
This morning Dustin, whose lavish applause already landed him in one post recently, sent me a youtube video "documenting" spiders on drugs. I laughed until I peed. Maybe I shouldn't have disclosed that. Jesus, Shonda. Any biopic that reviews how one species makes another it's bitch is gonna have me from the start. That's just how I roll, bitches.

Then, as if his awesome video wasn't enough, I want to share with you a comment I receive earlier this week. It really tickled my fancy.
Martie wrote:

If I was a lezbo... I'd be in love with you. You're about as cute as a speckled pup pulling a little red wagon (Ok, so I totally stole that line from some dude who used it on me 20 years ago...it worked for the weekend anyway).

Well, Martie, you might need to know that much more sweet talk like this and you might just have one short, fat lezbo on your hands.
When I told Rowdy about this, I could see the excited anticipation on his face. Like, so can we have a lezbo? Please, Shonda, please. I will feed her. I will walk her. Please, can we keep her.
After one of our kids was born, I told him I wanted to join a thespian moms groups and he was all for it.
I was like, So you don't mind if I have to drive 45 miles to be in it.
Him, No, at all if that's the closet.
Me, Yup, and then I might have to be gone a couple a nights a week for practice.
Him, They have practice?
Me, Uh, well, yeah, they aren't going to just put 20 women up on stage without it.
Him, Now wait just one minute. Why do you have to do this on a stage? Won't a bedroom work? Maybe a big hotel room?
Me, What the hell are you talking about?
Him, Nothing.

Okay, that conversation totally never happened. Being in a thespian group would be way too much work and would seriously cut down on my internet time. You know I'm letting nothing come between me and the world wide web. Nothing!
But, if I were to tell him I wanted to join a thespian group, I can tell you that's exactly how the conversation would go since supporting our ladies in the rainbow army is his top priority. We all deserve equal rights, huh Rowdy? When my husband thinks of all the oppression of lesbians, the way they can't make out with each other in frilly little nightgowns out in public, it just breaks his little humanitarian heart.
Anyways, thanks, Martie. As you all know, lavish praise is the way to my heart, so bring it on, bitches.
Okay, fine, you twisted my arm. I will leave you with one more. Cousin Cookie knows how to pluck the heartstrings of my dirty soul.

Well I have to give ya a high five for this one. I assume the cousin you preferred to is my well endowed daughter. It does make a difference when ya spend a little extra for the girls to be held up.No matter what its ALL about comfort. Don't let anyone tell ya different. I must add I think that you are the most brilliant, witty, classy but yet still with humor beautiful women whom loves the 'F' word, but wait there is more, who can cook.... Love you girl. Cookie

That's right. She called me brilliant, witty and classy and managed to keep a straight face when I asked her if she was being a wise ass.

Brent Rinehart Doesn't Speak (OR DRAW) for Oklahoma!

Before you read any further, let me warn you: there are going to be a lot of cuss words. This post should have been filed under the Complaints and Grievances tab, but I'm so pissed that I couldn't run the risk that some of you might miss it back there.
When the hate-filed products of a hidden camera at a fund raiser for Sally Kern, the prune-faced Republican Representative to the Oklahoma House, were leaked to youtube, I was mortified. Although much of my shock stemmed from her insane charge that some invisible gay agenda was penetrating (I picked that word on purpose...What up!) our public schools, I found it even more alarming that the entire country knew this crazy bitch served in Oklahoma's government. Now, Oklahoma is definitely a conservative state. We haven't given our electoral college to any Democrat since Kennedy, but we are also a state of loving and intelligent people. I know it is very unliberal of me to say that while I disagree with some of my conservative friends, most of them are good people at heart. Perhaps the most offensive allegation was that this "homosexual agenda," which is in a full-swing recruiting period according to Sodomite Sally, poses a bigger danger to the American public than TERRORISM. Re-read that sentence. Seriously, terrorism. Sally's not a native Oklahoman, so perhaps that is why she would compare, I don't know, the second largest terrorist attack on American soil, the Murrah Building bombing on April 19, 1995, with tax-paying, law-abiding and often God fearing Americans seeking equal protection under the law. As this letter to Sally from a young many whose mother died with 168 other innocent people that day proves, this isn't the right place to be watering down the impact of terrorism. We know all about it and it wasn't some Middle Eastern fundamentalist who unleashed all that blood mayhem upon the Oklahoma City Federal Building. Rather, it was a Middle AMERICA buzz cut country boy with militia delusions who ended many lives and damaged even more.
But, as outraged as I was at this Oklahoma move-in Sally Kern and her ridicules bullshit, that pales in comparison to the out-right anger I'm feeling toward Oklahoma County Commissioner Brent Rinehart. Like I said before, as pissed as I am at Brent's homophobic insanity, I'm even more pissed that these two nut jobs are solidifying the rest of the world's poor opinion of Oklahoma, the state of my heart.
Brent's been no stranger to inflammatory comments about homosexuals, but he's kicked it up about a million notches. Earlier this week, a comic strip dreamed up by him and drawn by some asshole named Shane Suiters was leaked via email. See the full comic here. Of course, Brent apparently plans to mass produces them, so we would've seen it one way or another.
The motivation for this outrageous comic isn't just to draw attention through some twisted shock and awe tactic Brent must've picked up in the military, but also because he is facing felony campaign finance charges, alleging Rinehart and his former campaign manager illegally funded the 2004 campaign for county commissioner. A trial has been scheduled for September, which is after next week's primary. One donor, Jerl Methvin, has already plead no contest to one count of making a contribution to a political candidate in excess of $5,000. He was given this week a six-month deferred sentence, ordered to pay court costs and will testify against Rinehart and others implicated in the scheme.
So, I guess to weaken the creditability of these charges and Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson, a comic foe of superhero Rinehart, Brent got drunk on crazy juice and hatched this plan. Apparently, he thinks that Oklahoma voters are so stupid that we would get our hands on this poorly-drawn piece of shit and then believe that he must be innocent.
On page seven of this garbage, the two fictional Oklahomans, one imaginary neighbor explaining to another just what a servant to the good Oklahoma principles Ole' Brent is, the balding dude says to the big haired woman,
"The last big gun the Good Ol' Boys could fire at Brent was to get a Democrat and homosexual advocate Attorney General Drew Edmondson to file campaign charges against Brent at a time that prevents Commissioner Rinehart from clearing his good name."
Then some stiff in glasses, who I assume represents Rinehart's attorney or maybe some other lunatic helping him further this madness, explains to the two comic neighbors,
"He is innocent and will be proven so in September, unfortunately after the primary. But that's part of their plan to defeat Brent."
There might be Oklahomans who carry these homophobic regards, but again, no one likes to look stupid. Thanks, Brent! Not to mention that, Drew Edmondson may be a Democrat, but he is far from a liberal. I think Brent is also a bit willy nilly with "advocate." Yes, Drew has vocalized his belief that homosexuals shouldn't be discriminated against in the work place, but he hasn't gone out and campaigned for any radical social reforms, either. But, I think Brent's loose definition of advocate probably includes people who don't have wet dreams about cracking open skulls outside the Copa Cabana.
As I scanned through the 16 paged masterpieces (seriously, 16 pages of CRAH-ZAY!), I was bewildered by a cocktail of emotion. On one hand, I was enraged by this asswipe trash. On the other, it is soooo over-the-top that I couldn't help but giggle. In all seriousness, I hate that each gay friend that I have started their week here in Oklahoma worried that this incendiary bullshit might inflame some rage-consumed homophobe who might use this as justification to hurt them. But, still, it's hard not to laugh at this.
As fantastically crazy as the entire thing was, the best part came from two supporting roles: Satan, who naturally supports gays AND any political adversary of Brent's, Republican or Democrat, and an angel, an avid Rinehart supporter, of course. Truthfully, I'm awe-struck that this blasphemous asshole didn't roll out the big guns with a flying Jesus. I suppose this where his finely-tuned editing eye came in.
Poking his pitch fork toward a frumpy mother grasping her potato-head son, Satan says,
"If I can just get the kids to believe homosexuality is normal."
Then the pixie angel gleefully declares,
"Hey Satan, not with Brent around you won't!"
When I read through all this witty Satan-Angel banter, I truly thought this shit couldn't be any more like a religious acid trip gone awry. I was wrong. As I scrolled to the next page, I was shocked by a penciled protest where Satan, a true star in this classic, and men dressed in togas like Julius Caesar are waving signs in support of Brent's opponents. Where's Waldo is also there in full protesting form. I guess he's gay too! That explains why we can never find him. All this time he's been hiding in some dude's asshole.

Naturally, the comic declares gay men and pedophiles as one in the same. By the way, the brilliant artist spells pedophile with a "F." Maybe that stands for faggot, who knows. I'm the queen of typos, so don't think I'm getting all self-righteous. But, if I were going to print something like this, I would get the important words like that right. They also declare Brent as a staunch opponent of "anal sodomy." I'm not sexpert, but is there another kind of sodomy? Oral sodomy? Vaginal sodomy? If anyone could clear this up for me, I'd appreciate it. The cherry on top of this homophobic sundae is that Rinehart repeatedly refers to liberals as "good ol' boys." This thing is really ground-breaking. We've been called a lot of things, but good ol' boys has never been one of them. That's typically reserved for the White Knights of the Klu Klux Klan. You know how pro-gay they are. It's no wonder you can never find affordable Prada and Gucci in white! I know it's hard to pick up on sarcasm on print, so let me just specify that I AM being a wise ass here.
Clearly people like Brent Rinehart and Sally Kern believe that only values that are values are theirs and the only laws that matter are the ones they support. That explains why for the SECOND time, Sally Kern smuggled her gun onto the Oklahoma State Capitol this last Wednesday. While Sodomite Sally does have permit to carry a concealed weapon, firearms are strictly prohibited there. Thank God the x-ray machine at the check point caught her. I know some fabulous gays at the Capitol and I don't want this ticking time bomb bigot armed around them. Jesus, what if they criticized her terrible hair cut? She looks like Jimmy Johnson in a pant suit. Like I said, this is the second time Kern has brought a damn gun in. She, of course, claims to have forgotten the firearm in her purse because she was in a hurry, but you and I both know if this would've been a rainbow-clad member of the non-existent pink army she's waging war against, she would be calling for their pretty little heads. Rinehart would be right there with her. Then again, maybe Sodomite Sally was packing heat because she suspected Rinehart's gay gaffe would reignite the fire storm that her comments sparked. I mean, she did receive death threats. Oh wait, law enforcement went through each message and each email she received and they could never find the death threat she CLAIMED to receive. Liar, liar, Sally's pants are on fire!
Clearly only a pathetic, insane and, above all, desperate man would stoop to such ludicrous measures to win a primary. Now, unfortunately I don't live in Oklahoma City, so I won't get the distinct pleasure of voting against this dickhead next Tuesday. But, for all of my readers who do, please get to the polls. We can't stop Brent Rinehart from making himself look like an asshole, but we can stop him from making us look like one!