iPod meme


The first 25 songs that appear, when shuffling:

1. Greg Brown, "Slant Six Mind"
2. Counting Crows, "Blue Buildings"
3. Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, "Don't Take Your Guns To Town"
4. Hole, "Malibu"
5. Olive, "I Don't Think So"
6. Guns N' Roses, "Right Next Door to Hell"
7. Carrie Newcomer, "Threads"
8. Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (live)
9. Dixie Chicks, "Without You"
10. Portishead, "Mourning Air" (live)
11. Everything But the Girl, "Big Deal"
12. Johnny Cash, "Rowboat"
13. Patti Smith, "Free Money"
14. Tracy Chapman, "Say Hallelujah"
15. Sarah McLachlan, "Home"
16. Roseanne Cash, "Radio Operator"
17. Madonna, "Candy Perfume Girl"
18. Rolling Stones, "Sympathy for the Devil"
19. Iggy Pop, "Nazi Girlfriend"
20. Ani DiFranco, "Out of Range" (live)
21. Kris Kristofferson, "Stranger"
22. Janis Joplin with Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Flower in the Sun"
23. Babes with Axes, "We Pay the Price"
24. Emmylou Harris, "Michelangelo"
25. Ani DiFranco, "Hurricane"

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The Pilgrim, Chapter 33


This week's Austin Chronicle's cover story is about one of my personal heroes, as a writer, as an activist, and as a person, Kris Kristofferson. I suggest you read it.

When asked for his life's goals, Kris said, "Tell the truth. Sing with passion. Work with laughter. Love with heart." I can get behind that. I can so get behind that.

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Reading material


The 9th Carnival of Feminists is up at Mind the Gap. It's completely worth your time to go through it (at least it's worth mine so far--I'm not finished yet). And I'm not just saying that because I have a post included, I swear.

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My biology is not my destiny

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(Cross-posted at Avast! Femininst Conspiracy!)

Babies are born to be breastfed billboard

I don't know if you are seeing this billboard in your city, but it is all over mine.

And it pisses me right off.

At first, I thought it just pissed me off because it was ass-backwards, and that if it said something like, "Breasts were made for feeding babies," I'd be OK with it. After all, of all the things a person is "born" to do, is being breastfed really at the top of the list? It just seemed...trite.

But thinking more about it, the other way would piss me off just as much, if not more. Because yes, breasts are used to feed babies. I understand the biology there. But as a feminist, I take issue with what I choose to do with my body taking back seat to the biology of what my body can do (or what I assume it can, I mean, I don't know that I could breastfeed, and some women who would like to can't, so that's another problem). Men, this city, this state, this country...they already own my body to a degree that I am uncomfortable with--the last thing I need is billboards to dictate to me what my body parts are for. The capacity to bear and nourish a child is not and should be conflated with the decision to do so.

Given the anti-breastfeeding factions in this country, as well as the massive miseducation about breastfeeding, I understand the need for pro-breastfeeding campaigns, and campaigns that focus on how breastfeeding is a natural, healthy thing and not something that should cause women shame. I support public breastfeeding for women who choose to do so. I'm all for it. But that does not change my dislike for being told what to do with my own body, whether it is by some dude or the media or the La Leche League. At the end of the day, my breasts, just like my uterus and every other part of me, are for whatever I say they are for. We may be mammals, but we are not beasts. We can and have in many arenas moved beyond our biology and made decisions based on other criteria, and there is no reason childbearing and nourishment should not be one of those arenas. Just because my body (again, assumedly) can bear a child does not mean I have a responsibility to do so, and just because my breasts have the capacity to nourish does not mean that I am under any obligation to choose to use them that way. My biology is not my destiny.


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CD Review: W.O.W. Live Babes!


This album is a little bit hard to get a hold of, but it's so worth it. It's one my all-time faves, and is the first in a series of all-times faves I am going to review here.

Babes with Axes is a (former, unfortunately) band from Eugene, Oregon. It is comprised of four independent artists, Debbie Dietrich, Katie Henry, T.R. Kelley, and Laura Kemp, each of whom also performed (performs) solo. The album a live recording, done at the infamous (at least if you are me) University of Oregon W.O.W. Hall. The group performs each artist's solo songs together, with them all doing vocals and playing guitars and various other instruments. It's pretty straight up folk, but it's simply, beautifully done.

My favorite tracks are generally the ones written and led by Laura Kemp, who also has great solo records (as do the other artists--the only one I don't have is Katie Henry's). I am particularly enamored with the album's opening track, "I Know, You Know." Other favorites include another one of Laura's, "The Rootless Way," Debbie Dietrich's "The Road from Me to You," and T.R. Kelley's funny and telling "Downwardly Mobile (aka Government Cheese)," which I know I've mentioned here before.

These are basic folk songs--simple guitar melodies, beautiful lyrics, lovely singing. They are about relationships, about loss, about being far away from the people you love, about being a woman. Very salt of the earth. Highly recommended.

"I just put my plants into the ground/I was tired of always lugging them around/When I open up my eyes/I could not see a blue sky/I've got everyone I love so far away/And if I had the antidote/If I knew the cure/I'd be the first to change this rootless way/I'd be coaxing you to stay." -Laura Kemp, "The Rootless Way"

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Cowboys are My Weakness


Cowboys are My Weakness book coverby Pam Houston
W.W. Norton and Company, January 1992

I'll admit it, I picked this up based on the title. I mean, what a great title, right? Unlike most books chosen based on title, though, this one paid off. It's a great book of short stories, mostly centered around women's relationships with men who are unsuitable for one reason or another, generally due to being one kind or another of "cowboy."

Which I realize doesn't make it sound very good. In fact, it makes it sound pretty fucking trite. But it's mostly not.

Houston's female characters are strong and self-aware, even as they become enmeshed in or unraveled from men who are not good enough for them. They are thinking, feeling, acting women, and are fun to read about for that reason. She writes about them with empathy, but without pity, and although the strands of autobiography are certainly there, they don't seem to cloud things too much.

The best of the stories, though, are the ones that don't center around weak relationships, but around strong ones. The first of these, "For Bo," is a fairly simple tale of a day in the life of a woman, her husband, her dogs, and her pain-in-the-ass mother. It had me laughing hysterically, and it also had an underlying romantic feeling--real romance, not the flowers and lace kind--that left me feeling lighter for having read it. The second, the book's last story, "In My Next Life," is the heartbreaking tale of a friendship between two women, one of whom is dying of cancer, and of its unrealized potential. Though the story is very sad, Houston's decision to have it end a book of stories mostly about unsatisfactory relationships between women and men is telling--I love the implication that, as Abby says in the story, there is so much more to life than romantic relationships with men.

Other reviews of this book have criticized the similarities between Houston's female characters (almost all Easterners in love with the West, almost all women in love with untameable men, blah blah blah), and those criticisms are valid. However, given the shortness of the stories and the differing conclusions (or un-conclusions) the women in them come to, I was not bored by this similarity. I felt it gave the book an overarching narrative, something that tied all of the short pieces together, and I liked that.

I'll admit that cowboys are my weakness, too. Not in the sense of specific men, as is the case in most of Houston's stories, but in the sense of my having a natural predilection towards anything "
"Western." I get a pass on it, because I'm actually from the West, but it may have biased me in favor of this book. Be that as it may, though, I enjoyed the stories a lot and would recommend them.

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Because it's funny, stupid


If one more person gets all up in arms about how it's outrageous that the press is spending so much time covering Dick Cheney's accidentally shooting his hunting buddy when there are so many other, more important issues, I'm going scream.

Kids, it's simple:

Darfur? Not funny. Katrina report? Not funny.

Vice president peppering Republican operative lawyer with buckshoot while hunting on a game preserve, possibly intoxicated? Hysterical.


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Some things don't suck


I decided that last post was both too cryptic and too depressing a note to leave on, so I'm making another one.

Several things do not suck. I bought cowboy boots a few weeks ago and I love them beyond comprehension. My neck is getting better post-accident, though it isn't very good today. I'm doing more writing and have had at least one and maybe two articles published (even if Bitch did reject my query, damn them!). I've discovered that I don't hate makeup as much as I thought I did. I really like my hair. Mark and I are getting along quite well. My dogs and cat continue to improve my life exponentially every day. I have a fantastic weekend planned, with the highlights being a lecture by Howard Zinn tonight and a concert by Eliza Gilkyson tomorrow. Things are just not all bad.

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Final batch of book reviews


These are the first three books we've read in my U.S. Policy History course this semester, and once I get this review up, I'll be all caught up!

On Capitol HIll book coverby Julian E. Zelizer
Cambridge University Press, March 22, 2004

Don't read this book. It's boring. I'm interested in policy history and how Congress works, and I was bored out of my mind. It's also a lousy primer, because it skips around in time and doesn't spell things out clearly. It's a book all about Congressional reform written for people who already know all about Congressional reform. With that audience of around 13, Zelizer ought to be rolling in dough.

Friends in High Places book coverby David McKean and Douglas Frantz
Little, Brown; 1st ed edition, September 12, 1995

Clark Clifford was a powerful Washington insider/lobbyist/lawyer/Secretary of Defense for LBJ. He reigned in Washington all the way from Truman's administration through Clinton's, and pulled all sorts of tricks without getting caught until the late 80s in a shady banking deal. This book is a fairly sympathetic biography of him, and it's a fun read if you are in to political scandal, especially as it has changed (or not) over the years. I didn't come away from the book liking or respecting Clifford (who was a liberal Democrat, or at least supposed to be one), as I think the authors may have wanted me to, but I did come away from it amused and aghast, and there was definitely some political dirt in it worth knowing. It was also interesting to get an idea of the old-school cronyism that went on to mediate my feelings about W's brand--he's not doing anything that wasn't perfected before he was even born. Maybe thinking things never actually change makes me a bad historian, but if the shoe fits...

LBJ book coverby Robert Dallek
Oxford University Press, USA, January 8, 2004

If you thought the Clifford book was scandalous...

LBJ liked to show his penis to people. 'Nuff said.

This book is a shortened version of Dallek's much longer and more complete LBJ biography. If you are going to read one of the two, I suggest this one, because the other one is just way too much LBJ, though the editing isn't very good and there are things he leaves out that I would have kept in and visa versa. That being said, it's another fun read, because LBJ was a political dynamo, as well as being an absolutely appalling human being, and the things he did and said leave you both laughing and seething. And, weirdly, sometimes respecting him (especially when he was in the Senate). Sort of the way you'd respect Madonna as a businessperson but not a musician, I guess. Also like Madonna, it's worth a look at LBJ's early work--we think too much about how his career ended up and not enough about how it began. Anyway, it's an entertaining book, if presidential biography is your thing, but it's certainly not the best one I've read.

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(Cross-posted at Avast! Feminist Conspiracy!)

Selling Women Short book coverby Liza Featherstone
Basic Books, November 30, 2004

This excellent, interview-based book follows the case of Dukes v. Wal-Mart, the gigantic class-action suit brought against Wal-Mart by its female employees. Journalist Featherstone talks to what have to be a hundred current and former Wal-Mart employees, managers, lawyers, etc. in her effort to get the whole story, and the story isn't pretty. The picture painted is one of institutional discrimination against women on a scale of over a million. The discrimination permeates all levels at Wal-Mart, with women making less than men for the same jobs, being sexually harassed, and all of the usual crimes. The thing that makes Wal-Mart different, though (or at least this is the case the prosecution will be making) is that the policy of discrimination is not limited to a given man, or a given store, but to the entire, huge company. As women fight their ways up the management ranks at Wal-Mart, things get worse rather than better, and eventually nearly all women top out. For all of its rhetoric about being woman-friendly and family-friendly, Wal-Mart does worse by women than any other company its size.

The strength of Featherstone's book is on two counts. The first is her persuasive rhetoric and extensive interviewing, the second is her focus. Featherstone largely allows the women involved in the case to speak for themselves as to their treatment at Wal-Mart, and their stories provide a very strong foundation for the institutional statistics she provides, but doesn't bore you with. Giving Wal-Mart management their say, she also talks extensively to current and former high level Wal-Marters, and quotes from the testimony that has already been heard in the pre-trial motions for the case. While her sympathy to the protestants is obvious, she seems a decent journalist in at least trying to get the other side of the story. Such as it is.

As opposed to other anti-Wal-Mart pieces, such as The High Cost of Low Prices, Featherstone focuses her work not on everything that is wrong with the company, but specifically on its sexism. While she does end up arguing that unionization will do more for Wal-Mart's female employees than this lawsuit or anything else that may come along, she spends most of the book focusing on the specific problems of female Wal-Mart workers, and given how much information is available just on that one subject, this is a good call. Though the discrimination of women at Wal-Mart does tie into other problems with the company (hypocritical conservative moralism, poor treatment of workers), it is refreshing to see a focus on women, and to see Featherstone's academic rigor in defining her subject.

Overall, this book is the best piece I've seen or read on the evil that is Wal-Mart. While it misses whole huge problems with what Wal-Mart does (like the conditions of overseas workers, for example), it does a wonderful job with the issue that it does take up, which is one of the ones that I'm most concerned with as a feminist. I'd highly recommend it.

Sisters book coverby Jean H. Baker
Hill and Wang, September 14, 2005

I picked up this book after watching the movie about Alice Paul and the end of the suffrage movement, Iron-Jawed Angels. I realized while watching the film that I didn't know enough about Paul, or about feminism's "First Wave" in general, to tell if the movie was giving her a fair portrayal or not. This book was a good introduction, I think, but more information will definitely be needed.

Sisters is divided into five sections, each dedicated to the life and work of one particular famous suffragist: Lucy Stone, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Frances Willard, and Alice Paul. By her own admission, Baker focuses more on the women themselves than on the history of the work they did. In her mind, the women of the first generation of American feminism are largely forgotten by all us Second Wavers and beyond, relegated to images of uptight prudes in high-collared dresses, with no lives or histories of their own, and she seeks to correct that. Due to this focus, and to each section only being about 50 pages long, she doesn't get much into the politics and activism, so look for that elsewhere. What she does talk about is each woman's childhood (three of five were very bad), religion (two Quakers, two Christians, and one atheist), personal relationships (Stone and Stanton were married, the other three were not, and four of the five women may have had lesbian relationships), and general personality. So I came out of the reading knowing not a whole lot more than I had started out knowing about suffrage politics, but thinking that Susan B. Anthony was probably been a damn fun person to be around, while Lucy Stone was probably not.

Given what it is--a lightweight, biographical account of five tremendously important women in less than 300 pages--it's fantastic. And while I hunger for more information, I know at least know what and who specifically I want more information on. Alice Paul remains the most intriguing figure to me, and Frances Willard appeals even less than before. The earliest years of the suffrage movement, particularly those that eclipse the Civil War and Reconstruction, are unbearably depressing, and it's much more fun to focus on the 20th century part of the battle. The book gives me lots of starting points. It's also a very easy read, and I'd recommend it for others who, like me, are embarrassingly ignorant of the suffrage movement in the U.S., especially if it is something you want to know about and don't want to dedicate a lot of time to. Iron-Jawed Angels isn't bad on that count either, actually. I'm going to be trying to move on to something a bit more substantive next, so suggestions are welcome.

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Whirlwind of reviews: movies


Bridget Jones' Diary movie posterI read Bridget Jone's Diary some time ago, and actually enjoyed it, in a beach reading kind of way. Between that and my enjoyment of all of the major actors, I felt like the film had to be worth watching, especially when I picked it up free from the public library on my way home to recooperate from my neck injury. But I was wrong. The movie just doesn't have any of the sharpness or sarcasm or desperation of the book. And the characters are just...flat. It's hard not to buy Hugh Grant as a dashing British playboy, I mean, he's made a career of being one, but he's not much of one here. And Colin Firth, who I really did like as the real Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice, left me cold here. Zellwegger herself was not too bad, but she wasn't quite pathetic enough to be an enjoyable Bridget. The film's high point was definitely Jim Broadbent as her dad. I didn't take much notice of his character in the book, but really fell for him in the film.

As Helen Fielding, who wrote the novel, also wrote the screenplay, I have no idea why the film's lines gave me a flat feeling that the book's did not. It may be just a case of my not having been in the right frame of mind, or it may be that it didn't translate all that well. It may also be that since reading Bridge Jones originally, I've read the amazing A.J. Rochester's Confessions of a Reformed Dieter, which was way better Bridget to me than either the pulp or the film fictional ones.

Best in Show movie posterMark has consistently told me that he doesn't like Christopher Guest movies, and I have consistently responded that it's because he'd never seen Best in Show. I made this argument convincing for myself by never thinking about the fact that aside from Best in Show, I'd never seen any of Guest's other movies. So I got Best in Show from the library and forced Mark to watch it. And while it does have the hilarious moments I remember (Parker Posey and her yuppie hubbie Michael Hitchcock meeting after eyeing each other from Starbucks across the street from one another, the man declaring to Catharine O'Hara that she was the best cocktail waitress he'd ever banged, etc.), the movie really isn't all that funny on a second watching. Partially it's just disappointing how little the dogs themselves are featured, but preferring dogs over people may just be my bias. Partially, it's that some of the schticks (Eugene Levy's dorky character in particular) are just so overplayed, nobody needs to see them again. This isn't one I'll be putting on my "can watch it over and over again" list.

Weather Underground movie poster Drastically transitioning, the next thing we watched was The Weather Underground. This is a really well done documentary about the Weathermen, the leftist "terrorist" organization in the 60s and 70s. The filmmakers do a good job finding a breadth of people who were involved to interview and getting their takes on the situation, and they come out as they should--conflicted and conflicting. Whether or not what the Weathermen did was right or justifiable isn't even a core question in my mind, but it is still an interesting exercise to watch the documentary makers explore it through the people who were involved themselves, some of whom are still valiant activists, and some of whom have calmed down just like they were supposed to. The film isn't slavish towards the former revolutionaries, and I appreciated that. One criticism that can be made is that it doesn't give a whole lot of background information--I kept up fine, but I've studied this period in history, and if you hadn't, I think you'd be left with quite a few questions. Which might also be good, actually. My other criticism is the inclusion of Todd Gitlin. God I hate Todd Gitlin.

High Cost of Low Prices movie posterI've got no problem going on record and saying I'm anti-Wal-Mart. I'm anti-Wal-Mart. I have not, in fact, been in a Wal-Mart store for probably nearly 10 years, but I understand (to some extent) and resent the harm Wal-Mart directly has caused to this country, working people, community and family businesses, rural life, overseas workers, and just about anybody or anything else you'd like to name. They are, to my mind, the embodiment of the evil American corporation. As bad as it gets.

But none of that makes this a good movie. It's just sloppy. It's not well-edited, it's repetitive, it jumps around in unnecessary ways, and it refuses to stick to and make one point. In trying to cram everything that's wrong with Wal-Mart into one 90 minute film, Greenwald makes the mistake of not presenting a coherent argument for even one of Wal-Mart's faults. Which sucks, because they are many.

I may have been more charitable towards this film had I not just read Selling Women Short: The Landmark Battle for Worker's Rights at Wal-Mart by Liza Featherstone (review to come). In focusing on one specific aspect of how bad Wal-Mart is, though touching on several others, Featherstone makes a much clearer, smarter, and more compelling case for what is wrong and what needs to change. Greenwald could learn a lot from her.

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Look, I'm famous!


I was interviewed for the very-brilliant Mary Ellen Slayter's column in today's Washington Post.

(Bugmenot says to use mobb@deep.com for a login and mobbdeep for a password, or you could just, you know, register.)


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Texas Campaign for the Environment


Due to some very convincing and cute canvassers coming by last night, I've added another reputable cause to my giving list.

Among other things, TCE convinced Michael Dell to take back old computers and recycle them responsibly. Excellent!

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Meet my new hero, Pali Boucher


The other day, Mark and I caught a show on Animal Planet called "Rocket Dogs." Rocket Dog Rescue is a dog rescue in San Francisco, run by an amazing women named Pali Boucher. The show did not just talk about the rescue, but about Pali's life and how she came to be doing what she's doing. I have rarely admired anyone more. Born a ward of the state with a drug addicted mother who died when she was 10, Pali had a rough, rough childhood and early adulthood. A number of years back, she was homeless and drug addicted. Then she met a dog named Leadbelly (looked to be a hound/Rott mix of some time) and wanted to be able to take care of him so badly that she went into rehab and got clean.

Pali had several good years with Leadbelly, during which she also fostered other dogs. Then Leadbelly died, and Rocket Dog Rescue was born. Pali doesn't just rescue any dogs, but dogs that are on their last chance. She specifically chooses dogs that are old, or sick, or have other issues that are keeping them from being easily adoptable, and she often swoops in in their last hours and saves them from being put down by city and county shelters. Judging from the both the show and the rescue's website, Pali has quite a network, but she also fosters up to a dozen dogs at a time at her house, and it was clear in the program that she is tireless in the work she's doing. The show said that she'd placed about 700 dogs in the five years since she founded Rocket Dog Rescue, and that is an amazing number, particularly given the type of dogs she takes in. And though Pali's active time may be limited (she's HIV-positive), she also has big plans for the future, including an urban sanctuary dog shelter in San Francisco.

I could go on and on about how amazing Pali is and how great the work she's doing is, but I won't. There's a pretty good little article about it here, or, if Animal Planet plays the show again, set your DVR.

Or hey, send a donation Pali's way. I'm gonna.


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Heard on the way to work this morning. Given my recent whinging about my job and Bush's oh-so poor friendly budget proposal, it seems fitting.

"We Can't Make it Here"

Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign
Sitting there by the left turn line
Flag on the wheelchair flapping in the breeze
One leg missing, both hands free
No one's paying much mind to him
The V.A. budget's stretched so thin
And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war
We can't make it here anymore

That big ol' building was the textile mill
It fed our kids and it paid our bills
But they turned us out and they closed the doors
We can't make it here anymore

See all those pallets piled up on the loading dock
They're just gonna set there till they rot
'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack
Just busted concrete and rusted tracks
Empty storefronts around the square
There's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere
You don't come down here 'less you're looking to score
We can't make it here anymore

The bar's still open but man it's slow
The tip jar's light and the register's low
The bartender don't have much to say
The regular crowd gets thinner each day

Some have maxed out all their credit cards
Some are working two jobs and living in cars
Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink
If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO
See how far 5.15 an hour will go
Take a part time job at one of your stores
Bet you can't make it here anymore

High school girl with a bourgeois dream
Just like the pictures in the magazine
She found on the floor of the laundromat
A woman with kids can forget all that
If she comes up pregnant what'll she do
Forget the career, forget about school
Can she live on faith? live on hope?
High on Jesus or hooked on dope
When it's way too late to just say no
You can't make it here anymore

Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store
Just like the ones we made before
'Cept this one came from Singapore
I guess we can't make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin
Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today
No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams
All lily white and squeaky clean
They've never known want, they'll never know need
Their shit don't stink and their kids won't bleed
Their kids won't bleed in the damn little war
And we can't make it here anymore

Will work for food
Will die for oil
Will kill for power and to us the spoils
The billionaires get to pay less tax
The working poor get to fall through the cracks
Let 'em eat jellybeans let 'em eat cake
Let 'em eat shit, whatever it takes
They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps
If they can't make it here anymore

And that's how it is
That's what we got
If the president wants to admit it or not
You can read it in the paper
Read it on the wall
Hear it on the wind
If you're listening at all
Get out of that limo
Look us in the eye
Call us on the cell phone
Tell us all why

In Dayton, Ohio
Or Portland, Maine
Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
That's done closed down along with the school
And the hospital and the swimming pool
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat
There's rats in the alley
And trash in the street
Gang graffiti on a boxcar door
We can't make it here anymore

-Music and lyrics by James McMurtry

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There is a reason I haven't been my usually prolific-posting self these past couple of days. Whiplash. Nope, I don't mean that figuratively. Mark and I were rear-ended on our way to work Wednesday morning, and your's truly is a member of the neckbrace-wearing, Vicodin and Valium-popping neck sprained elite. Even though the collision was low impact and the damage to the car not severe (just bumper, I think), I managed to get hit just right, and I am whiplashed. And this shit fucking hurts. I've had X-rays taken, and there is no spinal damage, the issues are soft tissue. Which is good, because that means it should heal fine, but bad, because it means it hurts like fuck.

In order to make this whole process more infuriating, it seems that the person who hit us has coverage through the same insurance company we do. You'd think that would make things easier, but it seems to be having the opposite effect. I had a teeth-clenching phone call yesterday with an adjuster who assured me several times that I just could not be very injured in a crash with so little damage to the car. If he's trying to cover his ass so I don't sure them for $100K or something, cool, but is there a way he could maybe do that without making me feel like a hypocondriac asshole when I'm in pain? That'd be great.


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February Giving

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The month has changed already! For my February giving choices, I went local. The Blanton Art Musuem is UT's art museum--it's been undergoing a big remodel and will be re-opening in April, which I'm very excited about. Safe Place is a fantastic organization that helps women and children get out of abusive situations. Both are definitely worth your time and dollars, so check them out.


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