Thursday, July 24, 2008

Check Up

I figured since it's been about roughly half the year since I posted my New Year's Resolutions, I would check in on my progress.

But first things first. Have yall seen this shit?

I was already a little in love with Candace Parker but after this, she has officially screwfaced her way into my heart. Bwahahahahahaha! Did she run up on that girl and essentially steam roll her to the ground? **swoon**

Mmk here we go with the resolutions and shit...

1. stop drinking (as much).

2. blog more.
Hmmm... about that... I did really good with this for about a week. And then... I dunno... I got busy and stressed and outta town and blue and lazy and shit.

3. Stop cursing so goddamn much.

4. Stay celibate for...
That was pretty much a wrap before I even typed it. Celibacy is for dummies and people who can't get laid. I am neither.

Wait I don't mean you're a dummy! I just meant that celibacy is stupid. lol

5. Be more forthcoming.
I did pretty good til I quit.

Yall niggas could read in between the lines though, lol

6. Travel more.
I have done so GOOD with this! So far this year I have been to Memphis, Baltimore, Chicago, DC, Atlanta, New Orleans and Miami. Upcoming trips include Vegas, LA and Puerto Rico. I ROCK!!!!

7a. I'll stop screening so much.
hee hee that's amusing to me. We all knew this wasn't gonna happen. The good news is that people have caught on and stopped calling me, thus eliminating the need for screening as well as saving me money in ringtones, lol

8. Stop having such an issue with being clocked.
Actually no. Fuck that. Who doesn't know that I despise being checked and clocked and monitored? I hate it. We all know every once in awhile I feel it necessary to take a heavy dose of getmissing. Leave me alone. I'm cool. So really my resolution is to make you stop clocking me. So in essence, it's your resolution. Get to it goddammit.

I've done a little better with this. But many people clearly have not stuck to the resolution that I gave them.

9. Not get in any fights in 08.
I am doing SO good because I very rarely leave the house!!!!

10. Read more.
I've done a pretty good job of this too. I think now I will start reading different kinds of things than just the authors I usually read. I am open to suggestions!

11. Watch my words.
notsomuch with this.

*12. Grow my hair out.
I cannot believe that I have not taken the scissors (with the exception of trimming) to my head not once in 7 months. That is SO unlike me. My hair is getting pretty long too. Granted, I very rarely take it out of a curly ponytail at the back of my head long enough to press it and see how long it is, but whatever. Baby steps, lol. (I am dying to perm it though)

I'd say I am pretty on track. What say you?

P.S. I have done pretty good with my other unofficial resolution to meet a whole bunch of bloggers this year. So far I have met Van (twice), So Wise Sista, Jonzee, Rashan and most importantly...


Remember how we met a few weeks ago and neither of us posted a recap because we are both ridiculous? lol

We met up on that Sunday at least an hour after we were supposed to because a. I have no concept of time and b. Bob had to make a smoothie (err? a fence called Jesus). We had decided earlier to go here which is generally my favoritest sushi place in every city it's in. Mo was nice enough not to cuss me out for showing up late so I inturned thanked her by tackling her in her driver's seat. There was a picture of my ass all hanging out of her driver's side window, but it has since been mysteriously destroyed, lol. We went inside and made sure we ordered enough food and drinks to cover the entire top of the table, talked and laughed and talked shit about you bloggers. You know how you meet someone and its your first time meeting and it's all awkward and uncomfortable and weird because you never met even though you've talked before? Well that sucks for you because this was NOTHING like that, lol. We had a fantastic time and Mo is even smarter and funnier that she is over Blackberry IM. Plus, she's gorgeous! I only slightly hate her for that. I hate her more for being at least 3 feet taller than me.

After sushi we drove around looking for a place for Mo to get her tattoo and finally settled on one after getting the run around. (Sundays are apparently not the best day to get a tattoo? lol) The plan was originally for us all to get one but when I heard how overpriced they were, I was out. (So Mo maybe when I get mine we'll go to NYC or go to my place in DC?) Her tattoo turned out beautifully (the one on the left is the one she got, the flower was pre-existing) and I'm pretty sure there are plans to add to it and to get my next tattoo. Mo has pictures that I won't allow her to post for various reasons up to and including the fact that the humidity was on mayhem that day and I looked a lot little like a chia pet (plus you know how I am with the pictures). But it was a fantastic day :-)

So, who's next bloggers?

Tuesday, July 22, 2008



About the 3 or 4 years or so, my life long knack of self dependancy began to become a real problem in my relationships. My friends felt cut off. My significant others felt uneeded. I was generally suffering from the weight. It seemed, at the time, that this life long skill of keeping to myself, of handling my problems on my own without asking for help or even admitting that there was a problem, wasn't serving me. And I am all about doing away with those things that are not serving you.

So following it being a mild problem with Almost Fiance and then a pretty fantastically large issue with The Ex, I decided to try and do something about it. I apologized to my friends who I'd only shared part of myself with. I approached my current relationship trying to be as open to help as I know how. I made an honest effort to fully disclose the issues that I deal with, how they're affecting me, and to ask for help. I am well versed in my flaws and quite capable of expounding on them; I've tried to listen when people reach out to help me fix things I need some objective opinions about. Moreso than anything, I have tried in whatever way I know how to reverse the distance that has been created in many of my friendships by being secretive and allowing the people that love me to see my flaws and help me just as I help them.

Oh, I'm pretty sure I am done with that shit though.

Maybe it isn't the best way, but it is my way. And I have to admit that I certainly feel like I am getting less of what I need from friends and family and loved ones now that I am trying to be all forthcoming and bullshit than when I was just handling shit on my own. And at least then shit would get handled. And if I didn't have anyone to talk to about it or if I didn't have anyone to lean on, it was my own choice, not because I reached out to someone and essentially got the blank face.

I used to be tired of everyone assuming I know how to handle things on my own. Then I realized, they assumed so because that was the way I portrayed it to be. So then I tried to show myself fully for all my flaws and faults, and ask for advice and lean on the people who say they are there for me.

And I got nothing.

So... I'm out. At the very least I know the situation is of my own making and not put of sheer neglect.

That is all.

Monday, July 14, 2008


"Hey bitch!"
"Oh no ma'am. Its too late for all that yelling."

She steps aside so I can come into her hotel suite, closing the heavy white door behind her.

"Thank you for coming even though it's so late."
"You coulda told me your flight was delayed Mariella."
"Ooh you're mad at me. You used my whole name."
"Not mad. Just disappointed."
"You're such a school teacher."
"Blow me."
"Hey I'm single. I can do that now."

She laughs at her own joke and I try to muster a giggle but it's 4am and I'm sleepy. We settle into the plush furniture and banter back and forth awhile, trading insults as is our way, filling each other in on our respective lives. She spends about 30 minutes running down what seems to be a roster of at least 6 people she's been dating. I laugh at her stories of the trials and errors and adventures of dating in her 30s. I laugh, not because it's particularly funny, but because she needs someone to laugh with.

"So wait, lemme get this straight," I ask, barely believing what she's just told me, "this dude just straight up flipped out in the middle of Park?"
"YES! That's what I'm trying to tell you! He just lost it. He's all, 'I can't believe you're seeing other people. What's wrong with me?!' Like, he's damn near hysterical. I was waiting for him to burst into tears."
"Oh my god you have GOT to be kidding me."
"I am NOT. What is up with these men out here? I mean I know its been awhile since I dated a man but seriously. We've been on like 3 dates! That automatically means his and her sinks?!?"

We laugh more as I listen to her stories; the Brazilian chick who threw a brick through her car window, the brooding young film student, the construction worker from Harlem who's short on convo but long on...well, other things.

"Yo La he picked. me. up. and fucked me against the wall like this is the shit he does for a living. Like it was nothing!"
"Well, damn."
"I cannot even remember the last time somebody fucked me like that. I was sore for like 3 days."

We giggle conspiratory giggles as she tells me far too much information.

"I seriously thought we were gonna break the bed."
"Thought you were gonna break it don't count," I tell her just to rain on her parade.
"Oh just cuz you breaking beds all over the US."
"3 and counting nigga!"
"Oh shut the hell up."
"So why, if he's notsomuch with the smart, are you putting up with him?"
"Did you not just hear me tell you he fucked me like he was doing community service?"
"Yes but if it's not going anywhere then what's the point?"
"Maybe I don't want it to go anywhere."

We let the implications sizzling under that statement linger for a bit as she lights a clove. She curls up on the massive bed, back to the headboard, indian style, curly hair pulled up in a messy bun, pulling down the boys horts slowly riding up her thighs, grinding her teeth and chain smoking, because before a little while ago, she was never allowed to smoke in bed.

"You ever had sex with him any other way?" I ask her gently so she doesn't feel like I'm judging.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean does he ever Boys II Men you or hell even Jaheim you? Or is he just straight up Tupac-ing your ass everytime yall get up?"
"I mean..."
"I'll take that to mean he is constantly and consistently Amerika's Most Wanted-ing that ass."
"Sometimes you need that shit."
"Yeah but what other needs is it filling in for?"

She's silent because she knows what I'm getting at. I can hear the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out how to circumvent my arrival at my point before I can get to it because she knows the destination. Just like she knows I'm not gonna tell her what she wants to hear.

"Alright La. What is it you think I need?"

She says it like a joke, a challenge, and I can hear where a cold edge has seeped into her voice. She's on guard. I don't answer her question directly. Instead I say...

"Have you heard from Ella?"

She inhales sharply. Even though she knew it was coming, she still sounds like the wind has been knocked out of her.

"No I haven't. She sent S'rai an email on her birthday and S'rai told me. I'm convinced she did it just to fuck with me."
"Which one is S'rai?"
"She's the dancer that El was cool with that tried to fuck her in the bathroom at that new years party a few back."
"Oh the dark skinned one with the pretty hair?"
"Yeah, her."
"So why you think she did it to fuck with you?"
"Cuz she hates me."
"She doesn't hate you Mari."
"Then why'd she leave?"

I can't answer that question any more than she can and she knows that. But the only person who can answer is in Jamaica right now. And my friend is hurting. So I listen.

"I met Yoga Chick."
"You whaaat?!"
"I met her. Tracked down her studio. I put this program on my computer that can retrieve things that have been deleted. You know Ella didn't have her own computer. I found all the emails they had been sending back and forth. Figured out her name and what she did, did a little snooping, found the studio. Waited at her car after her last class one night."
"How on EARTH did you know which car was hers?"
"Get your own computer before you move in with Bob."
"Noted. Now how did you know?"
"They mentioned it in an email," she says to me all faux casual and I know there's more to it than that.
"Look, don't judge me. I NEEDED to know."
"I'm not judging. What happened?"
"She knew who I was. She recognized my pictures from fucking Facebook."
"Damn stalker's paradise on that hoe."
"Yeah. Now I know why El never wanted me to be her friend so I could see who all her friends were."
"I'm sure it wasn't like that."
"It's been going on longer than just when we moved."
"WHAT?!?! El told me-"
"El lied."
"What in the hell is going on?"
"Yoga Chick is a friend of a friend. Guess which friend?"
"Fuckin S'rai. Jesus."
"Yep. Yoga Chick saw a picture of El somewhere at S'rai's crib and was asking all sorts of questions. She told her that El was taken so she let it go. But remember last year when El flew up there for a show and crashed with S'rai? Well they had a little get together one night and S'rai made sure Yoga Chick was there."
"You've got to be kidding me. How do you even know all this?"
"Fuckin' emails."
"So they met LAST YEAR? Before you even moved?"
"Before we even moved. So once I found out I'm all fucked up over it like, is this why Ella wanted to move so bad? I'm thinking all kinds of shit."
"Mari, no."
"I had to find out."
"So what she say?"
"She apologized. Reiterated that nothing ever happened between them. Said she hasn't heard from El since she took off for Jamaica."
"You believe her? That she hasn't heard from her?"
"They kissed."
"In my house La. They kissed. At our door. I was in Chicago. Working. And she's kicking it with this big head bitch from the Bay."

I literally have no idea what to say. I wanna comfort her but I'm sure any and everything I say will come out the exact opposite of how I mean it.

"What did you say to her?" I ask, almost afraid of knowing the answer, knowing Mariella's temper like I do, knowing how volatile this situation is.
"I told her what I knew. Let her know I knew where she worked and lived. What she drove. That she should never under any circumstances come to my home again. And that unless El was coming back to the city to move into her sad little studio in Chelsea to let her know that she's homeless and her clothes have been donated to Red Cross."
"Damn. That's ruthless. When did all this happen?"
"Awhile ago. Around when it first happened."
"Are you kidding me?! And it took you this long to tell me? Why?"
"Because what? What on earth could justify keeping that from me?"
"Because then I'd have to admit how bad I'm doing."

We are silent for a long time, both our breathing heavy. Mariella sounds like she might be crying but I know she'd never admit it to me. She is not prone to human weakness. Which is why the weight of this moment isn't lost on me in the least.

"So," I start, "how bad are you Mariella?"

She looks at me with hollow eyes, and I notice the things I've overlooked before; the dark circles underneath the day's fading concealer. The dullness punctuated by slight wrinkles that dot her skin. I realize her weight loss isn't from her working out "to relieve stress" as she originally said. She's not eating. She's stressing. She's grieving. Hard.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Maybe not. But I'm not ready to deal either."
"That's only gonna make it worse. Putting it off I mean."
"I know. But...I...I'm bad." She casts her eyes to the floor and curls up in the fetal position. She looks so small. My heart breaks for her. I curl myself around her and try to keep her from shivering despite it being July in Houston.

"Tell me everything."
"Ok," she says her voice unsteady. "I'm crazy. I'm literally out of my mind. I'm spying on my own computer. I spent a weekend packing up every article of clothing she left, every piece of furniture she picked out and I drove them all to Jersey and donated them. Everything. I took down every picture. Burned our sheets. I even had all her mail routed to Yoga Chick's crib in Chelsea. But she's still...everywhere."
"I can't even imagine."
"I just feel like we invested so much time. And rather than trying to save what we had we just retreated to our little corners. Let all this stuff build in between us til it was too high to get over and too dense to get through."

I cover us up because she is shivering so hard, harder with every word she says. She falls silent for awhile, her foot bouncing anxiously, covering her face with her tiny hand.

"I don't sleep anymore," she announces unceremoniously. "I don't sleep. I clean. I go to 24 Hour and workout. Or I pick an avenue and I run all the way down it, then all the way back up. And I'm smoking. All the time. And cloves too, which are worse. I've cut off all my friends because I can't stand to be around them. And I'm tired all the time. And I'm so fucking angry."

I try to just listen, to keep stroking her hair until she's calmer, to not say or do anything that will make her think she doesn't have my undivided attention.

"So I guess," she says, pained, "I'm bad."
"Yeah babe. I think you're bad. But that's to be expected."
"That was hard to say."
"It always is for strong people."
"So how are you La?"

I hesitate before I answer, much more comfortable with being the interviewer and not the interviewee.

"Just a little bad or bad I should be worried?"
"You should be worried."
"Very worried?"
"Very worried."
"You look like shit."
"So do you."
"Thank you for that," she says without a trace of sarcasm

She curls up tighter in my arms, sniffling quietly like you do when you don't want someone to know you're crying.
"Should I be worried about you?" I ask her.

We are quiet for awhile, each of us laying with our thoughts, trying, no matter how unsuccessfully, to sort them out.

"I got a job offer. With my favorite designer."
"That's wonderful Mari."
"In Italy."

That too we allow to sink in and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"You love it there."
"Yes I do."
"You're fluent."
"I am."
"Ella hates Italy."
"She does."
"When will you leave?"
"Running isn't gonna help."
"I'm tired. You should probably go. Are you ok to drive home?"

Just that quick, the vulnerability is gone. She back to being firmly in control of everything in her orbit, and that includes me. She tosses off the covers, burying me, and gets out of bed.

"I need to settle some final stuff on the house in the morning and run some errands but do you still wanna do brunch?"
"Yeah sure. That would be good," I reply as I grab my things from her outstretched arms.
"Ok cool. I'll call you."

I can tell from the timbre of her voice, the way she won't meet my eyes, that she won't be calling me. I give her a lingering hug at the door.

"I hope," I whisper to her hair in the direction I think her ear should be, "that if you need me you'll call me."
"Of course. But I'll be fine. Good night La."

The door is closed in my face before I can reply.

And so it is, that I am cast out in the streets, the friend of the broken hearted that is losing all those she loves.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

In (w)e Flat

I really want not to feel some kinda way about it.
I do.

But I feel some kind of way about it.

Reasonably speaking, it's petty. But it's not. It's big. It's major. It's important.

To me.

Patience... or... something.

But the way I want it to be, need it to be, is not solely my decision. But I have to deal with it. Until I decide not to deal with it anymore.

And I don't wanna be that guy.

But I know, in essence, because it is what it is, that the time will come when we have to choose. And I say 'we' loosely, because, well, I am always the one to choose.

Because I don't like contingencies.
And I am getting too old for fairy tales.
And I deal in real.
And I've already wasted so much time.

Contentment is something so easily lost and so rarely gained that it seems almost counter productive, because I am content.

But 'content' to me is like 'reasonably happy'. Why settle for 'reasonably' when I can be 'deliriously'?

I fear the fallout, I think. Not because I am not equipped to deal with fallout but because I don't know if I am prepared to deal with this fallout.


And because I don't want to.

And that's silly.

But it's real.

In the meantime though, it still hurts. It may be invisible but there is still a heavy weight to it all. And I'm carrying it. Because I chose to.


Because I know that when I set it down, everything is set into motion.

It's the kind of thing that can tear people apart. Families. Love.
It is.

I know.

But I also know that at some point...

I'm going to set it all down.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

"I'm not Irritable you're just Fucking Stupid"

Is what I'm pretty sure was the first sentence I uttered aloud this morning. It was swiftly followed by...

Coworker 1: Aww did you see Coworker 2's engagement ring?
Me: I saw she needed a manicure.

Well, she did.

So here's a list of things I hate today... in no particular order.

1. The Mexican that was sitting on the curb, shirtless, talking on the phone and clipping his goddamn toenails... when I pulled out of my garage at 8:30am this morning. I fantasized more than briefly about backing over him but I think blood will mess up my paint, right?

2. People who ask me to repeat myself. This is not just solely for people who can't hear. It is also for people who ask me the same thing, more than likely the same exact way, over and over to see if my answer changes. I gave you my answer the first time! If I change my mind I am surely capable of letting you know.

3. Scales. All scales.
3b. and also, the bitch at The Company who lost weight by... "drinking more water". I may or may not be plotting to fuck her up in the parking lot.

4. Sallie Mae. Nuff said.

5. Strangers who call me looking for someone else and then wanna strike up a conversation. No sir I do not know LaQuinta. No sir this is not that number. Yes I am as pretty as my voice sounds. I am also a 6 foot tall, 300 pound linebacker of a superdyke. Goodbye.

6. People who refuse to text me. I DON'T LIKE TALKING ON THE PHONE!!! WHO DOESN'T KNOW THAT BY NOW?!?!??! I'm not gonna pick up when you call, and if you do I will not be contributing to the convo. YOU are the reason our relationship has stalled. Communicate with me how I see fit. You ain't special nigga.

7. Anyone on earth who owns a Mini Cooper. Because I cannot have one. So I am hating on you. Especially because I think you are all joining together to drive past me and make me cry.

8. Honey. Because if she wakes up at 6:30am one more morning whining and throwing toys on my head for me to play with her, she will surely be banished to the backyard forevermore.

9. Having to pretend that I am a nice person. I am at this funny place in my life where I am wholly disgusted with my propensity for responsibility and decorum. I would like to erase that. Therefore, I have been shopping (after I pay my bills. Some things just don't change) because it is 3,729 degrees Celsius and I don't own one pair of shorts. And I am placing a moratorium on plans. I don't wanna make them. Ever or any more. And even more importantly, I am tired of tempering what I have to say because it's not "nice". Strap on a pair you pussy.

10. Politics. While my staunch support for President Obama has not changed, I am quite tired of all the political posturing. Not everything is a racist or ageist or elitest comment. Sometimes people change their minds, especially after they are councilled and guided by the people around them. Maybe if the dumbass that was holding office now allowed himself to be councilled and could change his mind, he woulda brought our troops home when he found out that he sent them overseas based on "erroneous reports".

11. Strippers. But only cuz they make more money than me.

12. People who don't support gay marriage. Everyone, regardless of sexual orientation should have the right to be miserably shackled to another human being in a sham of a union built on the innate desire to fund the billion dollar wedding industry. It is the right of every person all over the world to be put in the position where they have to decide if they wanna go broke filing for divorce and fighting for assets just to then ever be branded a "divorcee". Or if they should just kill the bastard and run with the insurance money.

13. People who ask me if I am from Bankhead when I tell them I'm from Georgia. Yes, I know, Becky from Accounting, your favorite rapper is T.I. even despite all his legal woes. And I know that you have all his albums and you've seen Atl 37 times so you think you are an expert on all things Bankhead related. But there are some other cities in Georgia you dizzy bitch.

14. Being hit on by unattractive lesbians. I feel the same way about it as I feel about being hit on by unattractive men; I don't know whether to applaud you for trying to trade up or to feel bad about my self because you felt like you could pull me. This situation is doubly compounded by issues like Pride Weekend in Houston, where there was a whole gang of you dusty hoes and the lezzies make no qualms about beating your ass as though they were a dude... I mean you were a dude. Or whatever it is they like these days.

15. Not being able to talk to an actual person when I call a business. Most of the time I don't wanna talk to people. But sometimes I need to. I hate not being able to key ahead to get to an actual person because you are too fuckin cheap to hire real people or too fuckin lazy to answer the phone. BOO.

16. The fact that McDonald's doesn't serve liquor. I don't think I'm the only person who is in need of a Smirnoff shortie to go with my emotionally craved fries.

17. The asshole who hit my car and kept going. Leaving me with what will likely be a $500 deductible to fix the car I was seriously thinking about trading in. And since I'm not a stripper, I can't afford that.

18. Being an infant. Not like a for real for real infant. But being a grown ass man displaying childish ass tendancies. A grown ass anything really, but def a grown ass man. Yo I heard you was all of 2 steps outta the grave homie. I only wanted to know that you were doing ok. I am not interested in no rekindling of no kind. Unless you hadn't heard, I'm WIFED. No need to play on the phone you hoe ass nigga.

19. Having this conversation... ever.

Me: Well if he's not willing to give you what you want, why are you with him.

She: Because I keep hoping he will change.

Me: But he hasn't changed in (insert long ass time here). What makes you think he's going to?

She: But we've just been together so long...

Me: And he's still the same nigga he was (insert long ass time here) ago.

She: Yeah but...

Me: No but. The only real question is; 'is this situation serving you?'

She: No.

Me: Then...

She: But I love him.


And last and certainly not least...

20. The fact that I am so damn irritable and thrown off by today that I can't even come up with a 20th thing. This is that bullshit.

I'm outta town for the weekend. Be safe! I'll be too drunk to read your blogs but leave me something good for Tuesday ok?

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Strap on a Pair: a Democratic Call to Serve

(I should temper this by saying that I am in a supremely bad mood...)

I have been a Democrat ever since I got a real grasp on what it meant to be an ass or an elephant. For the most part I can say that my views directly align with the majority of the views held in the largest numbers of the Democratic party. I only have one sincerely, earnest issue with my fellow Dems...

Where on EARTH are our collective balls?

I said it back in '04 when John Kerry was clotheslined by Swift Boat Veterans for Bush. (and no changing it to Swift Vets and POWs for Truth won't change the fact that you helped doom our country's international stature, our economy, and our faith in our own government). I said it way back in February when Bill Cunningham took great pains to call our next president Barack Hussein Obama three times, and it took his own candidate to "throw him under the bus". I even said it a few weeks ago when people were all up in arms about allegations that Al Gore isn't as green as he says he is. And I'll say it again now that Republicans are jumping all over General Wesley Clark.


We are getting our ass handed to us by Republicans who smear reputations like they inhale and exhale. They have been doing it for years. They will do it for years to come. It is their way. And yes Obama, I know, you do not engage in that "old style of divisive politics". We admire you for it. It is part of the reason that I, like many other people, are exciting about voting for you in November. But let's be honest here; there is a very staunch difference between attacking someones military service (which, for the record, General Clark did NOT do) and raising a very real and valid question; does serving in the military and being a prisoner of war automatically endow you with the ability to be President?

The long and short answer is no.

The more appropriate answer is HELL NO.

That's like me saying I used to babysit a lot, so I am DEFINITELY ready to be a mother.

Let's get real, Real Talk Express. You know just like I do, and just like any American with the ability to read and discern on a first grade level does that General Clark in no way critiqued Senator McCain's military record. As a serviceman himself, I seriously doubt he could bring himself to do such a thing (unlike Redneck Veterans for Falsehoods). As a matter of fact, I believe he praised McCain's service. He just merely asked the question that I wish Obama's campaign and millions of Republicans would have the cajones to ask; does that mean you are ready to be commander in chief? There are certainly a lot more issues to deal with as the next President than just the war in Iraq, as important as that is.

But my real issue is not the fact that Republicans are calling it a heinous attack on a war hero. I expected that much. That's what this campaign and many have been all about; who can spin faster and better than their opponent. My issue is the Democrats rushing to kiss the ass of pundits who have jumped on the bandwagon and "reject" the comments. General Clark didn't attack McCain. He asked a logical, rational question that we all should be asking, given the fact that his military service is at the forefront of his self proposed list of qualifications. It was a fair question asked in a completely non disrespectful way. All this does is make Obama look like the spineless, waffling dreamer that Republicans are trying to make him out to be in the press. And furthermore it loosens the solid ground of honest and real talk that Obama claims to stand on and further gives credence to the idea that John McCain is better equip to deal with the war in Iraq because of his service, whether it's inherently true or not. And I will bet the child that I know I am not ready to have despite how many times I babysat that the Republicans will be using that to their advantage. And SOON.

Why don't we try real straight talk all around candidates?

Senator John McCain is a hero that served his country through some of the most trying experiences a human being can face. During a war when many servicemen came home disenfranchised and bitter, Senator McCain has proven in many ways that he is still patriotic and dedicated to serving his country. His contributions should be lauded. His service record should not be questioned or "swiftboated" in any way. To do so would be disingenuous and in poor taste for a man who has endured far more than most of us can imagine.

(Look it! And that even from a card carrying Dem!)

But the fact of that matter is, that alone does not qualify you for Presidency. There are certainly attributes and experience that could make you a good candidate. But that hasn't been the focus. As it has been presented to the American people, being a POW is why McCain is more equipped to deal with Iraq. And that doesn't add up to me. Or hopefully, to anyone else. (Though I know that is wishful thinking on my part.)

And to President Obama, I truly admire your dedication to diplomacy even though I obviously don't share it. But there is, and must be, a marked difference between diplomacy and the utter refusal to step where the waters might be muddied. I understand wholeheartedly that in defending General Clark, it could have very well hurt you if not handled correctly. But isn't that why you have assembled the best and the brightest and run such a well disciplined, finely oiled campaign machine? To handle things correctly? You have rejected Clark for doing exactly what you have encouraged millions of Americans to do; questioning authority and popular thought. It is not only our right, it is our duty as Americans to ask the hard questions, to be honest and forthright even when it is not popular or pretty. You said that in a speech here in Houston. So why aren't you doing it?

And the story that started it all, the postings and comments here at Daily Kos that got me to ranting. Please notice that a resounding number of comments from the linked site are all from veterans (and should therefore, by current rules, not be discounted or discredited in any shape form or fashion) are overwhelmingly in support of General Clark's remarks and share the same concern, as do I.