Call me confused

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The Democratic National Convention is off to a start. I should insert some kind of descriptive for that start, but I don’t have any fucking idea what it would be. “Touchy feely,” “earnest,” “passive aggressive,” just not fucking sure.

The passive aggressive vibe I’m getting wafts over from pundits and their dead horse flogging discussion of attempting unity. Yeah, I fucking get it, there was fighting and like, yeah, right, sure, we’re all cool now. Sure. Sure.

Only I think it’s meant to really be real despite the shit that went down in the primaries. It ain’t like the Clintons are getting any kind of Cabinet jobs or other appointed goodness out of that crazy old coot Johnny McCain. I believed Hillary’s speech, because after all she is a grown up campaigner who, apart from back when daddy’s little princess supported another Barry of the Goldwater persuasion, is a capital D to the E Democrat.

What’s confusing the shit out of me is the disappointed supporters, the demographic of over 35 women who wanted to see a chick rise up. I do fucking get the wishing a woman could become president thing, believe you me, I truly fucking do. I was a girl who wrote papers on the ERA that would never be. I’ve felt the misogyny with which I think a whole chunk of U.S. society is just fucking cool and chill and comfortable (cough, um, comedy clubs, cough).

I get it.

What jams my cortex and doesn’t compute is the not fucking giving it up with the notion that somehow the GOP candidate would be better. What the fucking fuck? McCain, that fucker, is running a commercial of an alleged Democratic Party member of the female type, who has left the part because of the betrayal and disappointment and is supporting the man. Yeah, well, pretty sure right before that decision she wasn’t getting all hardcore Dem at the anti-war, lesbian wedding, dolphin saving, homeless shelter fundraiser. But still, he’s trading off of a newly minted character study of some kind of proto-Hillary supporter.

MSNBC and CNN did their darnedest to round up the weeping, undecided, what we going to now, delegates. How, how in the fucking world, would the candidate who doesn’t even want sex ed or birth control, you know, like, available, and don’t get me started on Roe v. Wade, help you, disappointed feminist Hillary backers? How would not voting, and letting this fucking asshole win, how would that help exactly?

There was a chick on Larry King tonight, who’s name is not popping into the front part of my skull. Nope, but if I do look it up tomorrow, I’ll hold her name forever and remember her and, if I’m ever back in Boston and we perchance meet, I’ll push her in the face.

Larry was uncharacteristically dogging her on her lame answers, as she defended why she couldn’t (or wouldn’t just yet) vote for Obama. But, it wasn’t about issues, it was about some kind of weird hurt that you only ever hear women expressing. Like, he never asked her, now did he, so pout, pout, and she actually said something like, “I’m a Catholic girl from Boston, I just don’t give my vote away,” and that she needs to be courted.

And, the sad part, Larry, is no one in her own party is even nice to her. You know, she gets hate mail, and it’s ugly, just because she has a different opinion.

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, No! No. The hate mail isn’t from the different opinion. No one minds if you leave the party or whatever, vote how you fucking please. Nope, women like you, in that wheedling, whinging, manipulation, that infuriating equation of Barack as a recalcitrant boyfriend, it’s your personality that grates not the politics. Get some therapy. Pull up your knickers and act like a big girl in big girl panties.

Read up on a few issues, and realize your candidate and the nominee are actually pretty damn close. And drop the inexperienced CEO analogy you were flogging. First, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and the boys from Google, not to mention little wee Zuckerberg, kind of changed that old, wise grandpa business model. More importantly, if my choice is the CEO with experience who I FUCKING KNOW will fuck me up, because that would be old man McCain, I would take my chance on the unknown young’un.

(As a side note on the experience Obama is lacking, it seems to me that word “experience” is what many a woman faced inches from the glass ceiling, as the excuses for her lack of promotion piled up. You know, a Catch 22, you can’t get experience managing, if they don’t let you manage.)

Actually, I think the pouty chick said she wasn’t necessarily heading over to the GOP. But, if Barack not asking you to vote for him (which is weird, because I think that’s in his speeches) is enough for you to not want to vote at all, I don’t know what to say. Can you imagine any news program, any interview ever, with a guy saying “I don’t know what I think, because he never asked me?”

My fear in all of this hand-wringing is that we sisters are actually ensuring ourselves another couple of decades of you’re not quite ready yet, honey, let the big men meet right now. Nothing gives the world the idea that you’re just a silly, dumb girl than acting like one.

Real women don’t wait to be asked, they decide all on their own.

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