prematurely grey

This used to be my favorite bridge

OK, disjointedly cruising web while fast-forwarding through MFJ. I went on something of a Twitter bender on Tuesday night, eventually landing on the biggest prize of them all–none other than past PG Superhero Questlove! Not only does ?uesto tweet, he blips.

The problem with the Twitter bender is this: currently, when I post here at PG, I blast a tweet (man, that is the new shitting euphemism) with a tiny URL for the post. The problem: if I post too much, then I turn into a Twitter-spewer. (I’m sure there’s a better term for this.) I had to stop following my no-longer-new gay conservative British boyfriend because of just this. He posts a shitload on The Daily Dish. He should. It’s his day job. (When does he find the time to write the Sunday column and The Think. Again. Atlantic articles? I am obviously not worthy of the same bloggy air he breathes.) But Andrew’s constant tweets were irritating. Remove.

Now, the realists among you, Dear Readers, may be thinking: Is PG on crack again? Since when is her problem posting too much, so as to run off the 40 people now following her on Twitter? And you may have a point. But let’s look at the traffic. As far as I can tell from the commentariat here at PG, there are seven Dear Readers. 40 “people” are following me on Twitter.

If I was a different person, I would now create a Venn diagram of the two readerships. Let’s leave at this: you know who you are, Intersecting Set Members. What do you think I should do?

Hodge Podge Lodge. Hodge Podge Lodge. Hodge Podge Lodge.

1. Max Kennedy is on Morning Fucking Joe “right now.” Some of you may know of my pleasant acquaintance with Max. He is a lovely person. Max is promoting his new book, talking about Obama, and being delightful. I like Max. One of the reasons he’s on MFJ is yesterday’s ceremony to rename the Triborough Bridge in honor of his dad. Now that’s a nice thing to do–name a major bridge in honor of Robert Kennedy. But WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY RENAMING THE TRIBOROUGH BRIDGE? Come on! Why? It’s my favorite bridge. It’s the bridge where we broke down and caused a traffic jam that we heard about on the radio (seeing the connection here?) while sitting in the broken down car. Does any one in their right mind think New York cabbies are going to start saying, “The Kennedy’s backed up, we should take the Queensboro?”This might make sense if they named the three legs of the bridge after the three brothers: the Jack connects Manhattan and Queens, the Bobby Queens and the Bronx, and the Ted is the one you take if you follow the signs for New England. (I, for one, have never crossed that bridge. And given my aversion for all things New England, I hope never to. No, that’s a lie. I crossed it regularly with one of the Republican Boyfriends From My Past Life. Often. No wonder I can’t stand the Ted.)

   What’s even worse? Wikifuckingpedia changed the entry yesterday. As in, “We don’t give a shit about the Triborough Bridge, Robert Moses, the history of New York, or helping people. We’ll just redirect them to the Robert Kennedy Memorial Bridge. The Triborough, that is so November 19th, 2008.”

   This is when I have a problem with the speed of change. This is when I want to give up all the tweeting and blipping and the linking and the commenting. Fuck it all. I’ll even turn in the DVR and record MFJ on a VCR. Triborough Bridge? History.

   But this is not why I started down this path. No, yesterday, when I saw a post about the ceremony on some news website, there was a picture of the dedication. Now, if you grew up in New York driving to Long Island, you pretty much know every inch of this bridge. And you can figure out exactly where they were standing in the freezing wind. And if I had managed to skitch this picture, I wouldn’t have to waste your time and mine describing it. But I didn’t because yesterday I was all worried about posting to Prematurely Grey because I don’t want to run off the strangers who follow me on Twitter, so I was doing everything I could to not post stuff here (even though I posted stuff here–worked out great, didn’t it?). The picture: Robert Kennedy Jr. standing making a speech. Various Kennedys surrounding him, including Max (very recognizable guy–white hair). Post mentions Bloomberg and Patton were there, among other dignitaries. And who are these other dignitaries? There’s this guy with even whiter hair than Max’s. Hmmm. He’s kind of tall and commanding looking. There’s something about that guy…

   When the fuck did BILL CLINTON BECOME AN “OTHER DIGNITARY?”

   People, I’m not going to be able to make any headway on Hodge Podge Lodge Thursday if this is the kind of crap that’s going on out there in Blogadelphia. (Hat tip Joe Klein, back in the MFH over at Swampland.) Bill Clinton returns from Kuwait, promises to stop shaking down foreign oil magnates for anti-malarial drugs, and BOOM! he’s nothing but an “other dignitary?” He’s the guy they’re showing “right now” on MFJ at the dedication. Not Mayor Mike. Not Governor Shack Up II. (He’s kind of the Pope John Paul II of New York, isn’t he?) No, they’re showing the Big Dog. He’s telling me to think of Robert Kennedy’s legacy every time I go over that bridge.

   No fucking way, Bill. No way. I am not going to think of Robert Kennedy’s legacy every time I cross that bridge. Sorry, I love ya, but no dice.

   Sometimes, when I cross that bridge, I’m going to think, Fuck, we’re going to miss the plane. Other times, I wish we’d left at 11:00 like we said we would. Some days it’ll be, I hope the traffic’s not this heavy all the way out to Dad’s. Occasionally it’ll be, Were we listening to WNBC or WACB when the car broke down?

   What can I do to end economic injustice? Nope.

   Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to name the Triborough after Robert Kennedy? Bingo.

   Hodge Podge Lodge is officially derailed. I have to deal with life. I have to check Twitterific. I have to go to the dentist. I have to buy some new shoes so I can defeat the Republican golfers who threaten to keep holding my state (and our nation’s future) hostage in the coming legislative session. Can I do it? Can I throw up (sounds gross) the eight other things that keep running through my Mr. Rogers brain? (”I’ll have things I’ll want to talk about/You will too.”)

2. The state of Texas is officially onto the next thing: who will get Kay Bailey’s senate seat when she resigns to run for guv in 2010 (Twenty Ten! Can you wait to stop saying “Two Thousand” all the time?)
3. I am officially obsessed with maps. Thoughts on space, maps, and the future of our nation another time.
4. I have to stop trying to catch up on The New Yorker. Biggest. Time suck. Ever.
5. I found the index card with the names of the people who were supposed to vote for me at the county convention back in March. This is the document that shows my budding political organization skills and begs the question: when is the Three of Spades a lucky card? When the other guy draws the Two of Hearts, that’s when. Full story in my upcoming political memoir: Dreams of My Comparative Goverment Teacher.
6. John Aielli just played Judy Collins and I didn’t interrupt what I was writing to tell you about it. Who says there’s no such thing as focus here at Prematurely Grey?

OK, that’s just six. There’s more, like will we have a tough woman from Arizona as the head of Homeland Security? Who else loves the idea of Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State? Will I ever get a job or will my addiction to MFJ keep me from moving off my bed, let alone up the ladder? What’s up with Tom Daschle’s glasses?

But wait, before I sign off, I must give you this final Hodge Podge Lodge tidbit, courtesy of Twitter (tying it all together, people–I am still a writer at heart, despite all evidence to the contrary):

wow. that's about all they could say. wow.

See why you’ve got to get on Twitter?

Ladies and gentlemen, since the election, it’s been 24/7 navel contemplation over here at Prematurely Grey. What else is left to do other than resting on my laurels?

Democrats on the move in Texas? Check

Democrat in the White House? Check

Democrat representing me in Congress? (Well, you can’t have everything–where would you put it?)

Frankly, I’ve been preparing to hang up the superpowers for good. Not only does democracy seem to be on the upswing, I can’t afford the shoes in the Current Economic Climate and the Ongoing Middle Age Identity Crisis has me paralyzed, hair-wise.

I came home from the second 7:30 am middle school parent meeting of the week (yes, everything you think that is wrong with that phrase is indeed wrong with that phrase) gearing up to announce my retirement. Before getting on with the Great Announcement, I thought I’d unwind with a little Cafe Vienna moment courtesy of MSNBC. Just a smidge of MSNBC. Not a full Morning Fucking Joe rewind–no need to get involved in Transition to the White House–Obamanation or Abomination! this morning. Time to grow up, move on, knit some hats.

And BOOM there she was! WWSPD on November 13, 2008? Of couse, she’d speak at the Republican Governors Association meeting in Miami. But why should that bother me? She can’t hurt me anymore.

It bothers me because standing on her right is none other than GOVERNOR GOODHAIR, MR. 39%, TEXAS’ OWN RICK PERRY!

But that alone was not enough to drag me back to the WordPress window. No, I can resist Rick Perry and the thought of the 2010 Texas governor’s race and the likelihood that Rapunzel Sarah will come to the Lone Star State and stump for this chump. I can even bear the thought that I will end up “rooting” for Kay Bailey Hutchinson in the Republican primary so I can see Sarah repudiated by good Texas Republican women.

So why I am back ringing the alarm? Grandma made me do it.

People of Austin! People of Texas! People of America! Prepare! Repent! End times are upon us!

One Tough Grandma is running for mayor of Austin. This spring. As in, starting today, Carole Blahbedy Blah Blah Blah Something wants you to return her to the mayor’s office.

Could Kinky be far behind?

Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.

I’ve been waiting for this.

Maps of the 2008 US presidential election results

One Skitch (yes, I am soon to join Skitch Anon…):

(If you want to understand this image, you’ll have to click on the link and read it all the way through, motherfucker.)

In case you’ve never been here, we live in a house that would be better described as a bowling alley. You see though the length of the 60′ house when you walk through the front door. You enter into the original 1941 11′x16′ living room, commonly referred to as “The Front Room.” There’s a 5′ wide doorway to the rest of the house across from the front door. In other words, it’s a passage way with an old fireplace painted the blue of a Mexican bowl.

Here’s what’s in the front room right now:

• The box of Halloween decorations, complete with the plastic pumpkin collection all over the top of the box
• A 4′ high birthday cake “costume” worn by Mazie last Friday (which was over a decade ago, if memory serves me right). The cake costume is the latest oblation in Mazie’s ongoing devotion to “Ace of Cakes.” It was constructed from three large boxes, a roll of white wrapping paper, purple duct tape, and velcro in two hours, with a start time of 4:30.
• A hand-painted poster of a donkey and Obama ‘08, not quite finished.
• A volleyball
• Three houseplants in various levels of death
• An Obama shrine featuring postcards, Peppermints We Can Believe In, bumper stickers, photos of Obama and the Familiar Stranger, my neighbor Ben’s incredible drawing of the first debate, and the 273 poster I held, Norma Rae-style, over my head the morning of the county convention to help get the SD-14 Precinct 273 Obama delegates into the hall before they closed the doors.
• A 1933 Steinway baby grand.

Clearly, the time for Operation Clean Sweep has arrived.

Just enjoying an unusually quiet morning Chez Prematurely Grey. (Tech Support Guy left for L.A. long before dawn and I’m taking a quick breather before diving into FullFundraiserFury08–36 Hours and Counting.) Dealing with email. Fast-forwarding through Morning Joe. (There’s the dirty little secret du jour–I have a thing for more than one Joe. Sadly, Morning Joe fits in the old Republican Boyfriend slot. More sadly, the slot’s still there after 23 years…)

Started my normal cruise through the sites I read (Times, Talking Point Memo, First Read) and decided to check out FiveThirtyEight a little earlier than normal. Clicked through on the “Road to 270: Arizona” (even though I really don’t give a shit about Arizona) and HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT ARE MY SHOES DOING ON 538?!

I kid you not. I own those shoes. I not only own those shoes, I wear those shoes. I wore them throughout the convention (tucked flip flops in the big red bag for walking). I wore them them Monday night to the couple of local Dem events I attended with yet another man named Joe. (Evening Joe? Joe the Lawyer? New Mexico Joe? That’s it–New Mexico Joe.)

Could it be that I own and wear the iconic (to the point of being a CafePress t-shirt joke) Obama Mama pumps?

So far, I haven’t seen anybody else in these shoes. In fact, I tried to find them on Zappos and after scrolling through 15 pages of Donald Pliner shoes all I could find for you to see was the slingback version:

Ladies and gentlemen, I could have purchased the slingbacks. They were there at my local shoe dealer (and I use that word purposefully). But I chose the pump. Pumps, yes.

I’m beginning to wonder if the Superpowers have migrated downward.

I haven’t had a haircut since before the convention. Frankly, it’s been the source of  great confusion and concern. True confession: I’m growing my hair out right now. And given the fact that my haircuts are intimately connected to the fate of one Tom DeLay, enemy of the people, friend of casino gambling, I’ve been questioning whether I’m doing everything I can to save democracy.

But this is a new election! Tommt D, we are five seats away from taking back the Texas House. Obama Deputy National Campaign Director Steve Hildebrand promoted this fact to a roomful of national political bloggers in July. (I was there and I nearly cried.) This fall, I’m not just whistling Dixie. (I have been waiting to type that for years.) We are five seats away. Five seats.

If we win back the Texas House, the 2010 Texas House redistricting might redraw the seats Tommy L. and his buddy Midland Tom drew up so Democrats would never hold power again in the Lone Star State. (How could it be that Texas Democrats keep winning, Toms?). And if we redraw those seats and a few more actual representatives of the people are elected in 2012, well, we might be able to redraw those Congressional districts. And if we redraw those Congressional districts, well, Austin might have a representative in Congress, come January 2014.

OK, I’m not going to buy new boots. I’m not going to buy new shoes. And it’s not just because of WWSPD. I’m going to give the money I would have spent on shoes on the Travis County Democratic Party.

And for those of you who might be concerned about my outfit tomorrow, I think I’ll wear my mom’s 1973 black suede Bendel’s peep toes. I’d like to see Sarah whip out her mom’s shoes from fourth grade and rock them at her next fundraiser. Come on, Sarah, I dare you.