Tuesday, June 03, 2008

The Last Tuesday

It's the last Tuesday of the long primary campaign, and I feel you out there, feverishly waiting for your favorite dog blogger to tell you what to feel, think, or say as we await returns from Montana and South Dakota, as we puzzle through the rumors of concessions, of deals, of incendiary videotapes of the opponent's wife that may or may not exist. It's a hard day in Roxie's World, which is why Mark Twain is already on his favorite barstool at Ishmael's, the bar around the corner from the headquarters of our global empire, and why I am off at the groomer's, and why Moose spent part of the afternoon power-walking on the trail with the new Madonna pounding in her ears. (Her verdict on the album? Thin voice, thinner lyrics, excellent beat. Thanks to the Candy Man for sharing Hard Candy.) Goose has been writing. And grocery-shopping.

Meantime, we feel pain and uncertainty reaching us from the far corners of Roxie's World -- from devoted lurkers who write to declare, "If McCain puts a moderate woman on his ticket, I will vote for him," or to complain bitterly about Obama's tepid response to the vicious attack on Hillary Clinton that precipitated his resignation, finally, from the Trinity United Church of Christ. She notes his failure to condemn Rev. Michael Pfleger's words as "utterly inappropriate and demeaning of an important public servant and presidential candidate who deserves the respect of every American," and rightly connects that failure to Obama's tendency throughout the campaign to take advantage of the misogyny that has been directed at Senator Clinton.

We are taking it all in, my dearly beloveds, and we are waiting along with you to see what happens over the next few days. As we wait, we are reminded of one of the finest paragraphs we think we ever produced here in Roxie's World, even if it was in a post that ultimately embarrassed us because it revealed our profound limitations as political prognosticators. It's from the post, "Hillary: A Valediction," which we published the day before the Texas and Ohio primaries in March, worried that Hillary would either lose or not win big enough to justify staying in the race. Here is the paragraph that is on our minds today, as we wait to see what the future holds for Hillary Clinton -- and for all of us:
Yes, when women of a certain age and class look at Hillary we see a lot of our selves -- the tests we took, the dreams we had and have, the hard bargains we struck with life, the moments when our best efforts fell short. As we watch what feels like the end of one part of her amazing journey, Clinton achingly reminds us of all the smart girls who never felt pretty enough, all the pretty girls who still thought their ankles were fat, all the good girls who colored inside the lines and stayed late to help clean up. All true, all valid emotionally, but that’s not all. We have been looking at her for sixteen years, and now perhaps we can finally see her – Hillary Clinton is the unfinished work of feminism. If we don’t do it, who will?
Think about that, my sweet, uncertain humans, as things unfold over the next few days and you consider whether you could support an Obama/Clinton ticket or whether you could live with all the pressure to vote Democratic, no matter what, or the lifetime of crap you will take if you don't vote and McCain wins. Think about it, and stay close to Roxie's World, where you know you are loved and where you will always find a passionate fighter for justice or two to hang out with. And because I know a pretty song and a bit of pro-Hillary eye candy will make everything easier to take, click on the vid at the end of this post, which we picked up over at the Confluence. Then, go read this longer post, also from the Confluence, "An Open Letter to Hillary Clinton," by the Boston Boomer. It's the kind of thing we might have written today if we weren't greeting the next round of houseguests later this evening.

Love you, lovelies. Mean it.


  1. Thanks so much for this, Rox. Driving back from the store, I heard NPR say a version of what Donna Brazile said, that the Pudd'nheads (aka Dems) don't need working class whites and Latinos anymore. Okie dokie, Puddn'heads. And the report went on to say that the angry Hillary Clinton supporters would all come back to the Puddn'heads. Mmm. The way you finagled it in the end was in fact the very final straw, Puddn'heads.

    Signing off with my mantra,
    "Who's afraid of democracy?" The same folks who are afraid of Virginia Woolf and Hillary Clinton.

    Pudd'nheads aren't us,

  2. A song about queer love whose lyrics always become relevant to me at moments like this... when battles are over and the dust settles, and we remember what we were all fighting for in the first place.

    "Tender Comrade" (Billy Bragg)

    What will you do when the war is over, tender comrade
    When we lay down our weary guns
    When we return home to our wives and families
    And look into the eyes of our sons
    What will you say of the bond we had, tender comrade
    Will you say that we were brave
    As the shells fell all around us
    Or that we wept and cried for our mothers
    And cursed our fathers
    For forgetting that all men are brothers

    Will you say that we were heroes
    Or that fear of dying among strangers
    Tore our innocence and false shame away
    And from that moment on deep in my heart I knew
    That I would only give my life for love

    Brothers in arms in each other arms
    Was the only time that I was not afraid
    What will you do when the war is over, tender comrade
    When we cast off these khaki clothes
    And go our separate ways
    What will you say of the bond we had
    Tender comrade

    all the best,

  3. Thanks, Eitan. We love us some song lyrics here in Roxie's World, especially mushy queer song lyrics.

    We're still processing.


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