Skip to main content

Turn those clapping hands into angry balled fists...

1 thing that makes Facebook worth it:

I got a bumper sticker from the excellent Vania Lopez. This is what it says:

"I'm leaning towards voting for the presidential candidate not endorsed by the worst president in American history."

Ah, God bless America -- the only country who votes for a moron not once, but twice. And then, when given a third chance -- they choose to listen to the moron who screwed them up to begin with. Why would any semi-intelligent, self-respecting, heart-possessing American vote for a man who's campaign bears bone-chilling resemblance to the hideous, idiotic, and immoral past eight years we have all witnessed/experienced/died from?

This is one of those moments -- maybe days -- that I want to yank some yuppie soccer mom (not a Palin jab, although it should be) out of her SUV, snatch her by the scruff of her neck, drag her hater-blocker wearing self to the back of tank she's driving, shove her plastic face into her 'I support our troops' magnet and remind her that supporting the troops is not the same as blindly supporting a war led by deceptive profiteers.

Supporting the troops means putting their best interest first. Bring. them. home. Though no amount of rectification will restore the lives of the some 4000 soldiers who've died. And who've died fighting a war every American has been lied to about. I do not stand for this.

I'm tired of people acting as if turning a blind eye is the same as being supportive of what is right. Beyond that, I'm tired of people following the leader just because he is elected one; being a leader does not make someone impervious to error, poor judgment, or even intentional deception. In cases like the Iraq War, doing nothing is the same as doing wrong -- lives are at stake. Lives are at stake and are lost every day because Americans sitting in their cushy easy-chairs dilute their perception of right and wrong with a sugary concoction of half "the president can choose for me" and half "I don't have time to be bothered."

When in reality, if it were you lying in the trenches -- or your son or daughter, you'd be pleading for Americans back home to stand up and object. This has gotten out of hand.

Comments

Anonymous said…
why wouldn't you vote for McCain?... he is a maverick x100000

i am glad that bumper sticker inspired you!

Popular posts from this blog

Someone busier than you is running right now.

I have a confession to make to my spark buddy, Melissa: I did not go for a run last night. I'm terrible, I know. Here's what else I know: 1. I have never made such great progress in getting into shape as I did when I was jogging regularly. 2. My knee starts to stay in a constant state of noticeable discomfort after I've jogged for over a week. 3. I miss the liberating feeling of running. 4. I miss the empowerment of cross-training (biking, swimming, running) So I've been perusing the intarwebz for motivational media this morning. And while I hate Nike for their shoddy work ethic, jacked up prices, and apparently tiny clothes, I love them for their motivational material. I just have yet to find any media more inspiring to me than the following advertisements. And ... "I am addicted. I've collected footsteps before dawn. Seen places I never knew existed. Run to the moon and back. Been a rabbit for the neighborhood dogs. Obeyed the voice in my head. Let music carr

Sometimes a girl just needs something. (journal, NSFW, language)

I don't typically feed off of the positive reinforcement of my peers. I've never been one who looks to others for approval. I just do what I do and don't ask for much. Now, do I have expectations or needs? Sure. But that doesn't make me selfish or needy. That just means I'm human -- with emotions, and sensitivity. The expectations and needs I do have are simple things -- things any mildly advanced primate could do. Seriously, I don't ask for much. Love me? Care about my feelings? Put in some effort from time to time? By no standards are any of those things too much to ask. But for fuck's sake. I lost ten pounds. TEN fucking POUNDS and there are more perfect strangers happy for me than there are close friends. Susan, my sister, is the ONLY person who's said she's noticed the difference. And even if she's lying (and I'm not saying she is), at least she's fucking encouraging me. I've been trying so damn hard to lose weight, to maintain a

603.

I never told you this story, but when I was a three, I had to have physical therapy for a broken femur. Every single day we drove to PT, we went over a small, fairly insignificant overpass with had a shopping plaza below it. The address for the shopping plaza was just barely visible over the bridge. And it was 603. And every single day as we went over, I would excitedly blurt out the numbers to show my mom I recognized them. This turned into a game for us. And eventually, a tradition. Fast forward into my "more grown up" ages ... like ... high school. And, if you could be a fly in my truck, you would have without a doubt witnessed me driving over the overpass by myself and, sure enough, I'd just say it ... "six oh three." Shortly after high school is when I met Seth, Tommy, Leif, Troy, and Jonesy in Gainesville. Still, there was no connection. Their friends and families came to visit, we then bonded, they returned home, and still, nothing. It wasn't until th