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Advice for 2016

Dear members of the GOP:

I know you are sad and licking your wounds today. This election battle was incredibly contentious with plenty of time, money and emotion invested.

As I am one of those voters you would like to target (the kind who votes for the person, not the party), I’d like to give you some tips on how you can win in 2016.

  • Pick a candidate people actually like. Even die-hard Republicans had trouble getting behind Romney. Cold and robotic don’t play well in politics. Just ask Al Gore. It says something when a Republican restaurant owner feels inspired to give the Democratic president a bear hug (and then of course gets ripped apart by other Republicans).

  • Don’t let your candidate and his wife talk about their three houses and four cars. It’s OK to have a successful person as a candidate, but don’t rub it in a struggling nation’s face.
  • Don’t alienate most of the country. Heinous bumper stickers with slogans such “Don’t Re-Nig” and T-shirts bearing the phrase “Put the white back in the White House” may play well among the racists, but we should all hope that is a small (and getting smaller) group.
  • Remember that gay people and women vote. If you are going to promote policies that negatively affect major groups of people, those people likely are going to vote against you.
  • Remember that Hispanics also vote. Anti-immigration policies that are a not-so-thinly veiled attack on Hispanics, especially Mexicans, are not going to be crowd-pleasers in the Hispanic community.
  • Don’t talk about abstract concepts that — while important — are not affecting the daily lives of citizens. The deficit is extremely important, but it is an abstract issue for most people. You know what is not an abstract issue? Same-sex marriage. Also Planned Parenthood. And Big Bird.

If you really wanted to defeat Obama, you should have picked someone like Jon Huntsman. He could have pulled in people from the middle and the left.

You have four more years to get the party back on track. The horse is out of the gate on same-sex marriage, legalization of marijuana, and other issues you have been fighting. Get with it. Shift party focus to economic issues. Join together and start talking about working with the Democrats to make this country stronger.

Better luck in 2016!
Beth

A post that doesn’t blow

Dear Readers,
I am proud to present my very first guest post by none other than my BFF Royce, partner in crime for many adventures. (That’s him on the right below.) He fancies himself a writer too, and I think you’ll agree that he’s got talent. It took his wife Sarah (that’s her next to him) and me more than a week of badgering to get this out of him. It was worth the wait. Enjoy!
Beth

Dear (former) leaf blower,

I retired you yesterday. Several weeks ago, you decided you had worked enough and quit, right in the middle of a job. You just stopped. No two-weeks notice, no “thanks for the opportunity, boss” chat. Nothing. I tried to convince you to stick around: fresh gas, clean air filter, extended time off. Yesterday, when I needed you most, with the yard on the line, you failed me yet again. Gave up with hardly a gasp, no effort whatsoever.

You really only have one purpose for your entire existence, you know: You blow air. That’s it. You were conceived for no other reason than to blow shit around. It’s why I chose you out of all of the others that day not so long ago. You presented so well in your glossy, eye-catching box splashed with pleasing colors and images of manicured lawns and sidewalks. You made me want you and the impossibly well-kept yard you obviously had no role in creating.

Charlatan, I say!

In the hours since your departure, it’s become painfully obvious to me that your time here was too easy, too much like a vacation. Your work days were short and scattered throughout any given season, with as much as three months off for winter break. Summer was admittedly the busiest time of year but even then you were called in two, three times a month, at most. I treated you well enough, I think. Granted,  I didn’t bathe you weekly in warm, soapy water but you were treated with due care and respect. Arguably better than most, I would venture.

Rest assured I will not be making that mistake, again.

And no, I will not be a reference for you.

Regards,
Royce

To a different Adam

Dear Adam Levine:

Congratulations on the success of “The Voice” and your single “Payphone.” Your work on “The Voice” (and your bromance with Blake) has provided many hours of entertainment for my husband and me.

Though I would consider myself a fan, I would use the qualifier “casual,” not “rabid.” So imagine my surprise when I had a dream about you last night.

I have no idea why I was pitching you my ideas for how to make television news more interactive and appealing to advertisers. I don’t know why you had boobs. I also don’t know what made you think I was gay.

I do wish I owned the lovely dress from the ’30s that I was wearing, complete with matching snood. And I want to thank you for being a gentleman, and loaning me your fur coat to wear when I became chilly.

Anyway, keep up the good work on the show and with Maroon 5, and I’m impressed with your new rapport with Christina.

Sincerely,
Beth

Desperate but not serious

Dear Adam,

Let me just say right off the bat that I love you. So much. You are perpetually on the top of my “Get Out of Marriage Free” list.

And that’s why I want you to call my husband.

It’s an odd request, I know, but he is part of the Crossfit Cult. He can help you.

Why?

Because this is how you looked the last time in concert:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is how you looked Saturday night at the concert in New York City:

That cummerbund is hiding something I never thought you would have.

I’m not trying to be unkind. This is your first U.S. tour in 17 years. I know you took time off to deal with some personal issues.

I just don’t think you were (or are) taking very good care of yourself. You shouldn’t be winded by the second song. Your leaps and high kicks have become an Ed Grimley-style side twist. Your voice sounded like Marge Simpson’s sisters at certain points. I mean, the audience had to help out with “Beat my Guest,” for crying out loud.

This is not to say it wasn’t a fantastic show. It was. Absolutely. It was just hard to reconcile the Adam I remember with the current you. Granted, you could accuse me of carrying around a little more me also. Touché.

But you are in your late 50s now, and I want you to be healthy so you can do what you love: Create music and perform for fans. (And I still want to meet you.)

So, do us all a favor and call Eddie. He can help you try another flavor, so to speak. Be the dandy highwayman you once were.

And remember, as Whitney said, “I will always love you.”

Vive le Rock,
One of your most devoted Antpeople

 

Dear Annoying People in and Traveling to/from New York City:

Perhaps you are unaware that you live in a world with other people. You do not operate within a movable cone of silence. Here are some tips (prescriptive and restrictive) for existing in harmony with others:

On an airplane

  • Put your smartphone game on mute, especially if you are going to play it for the entire two-hour flight.
  • Do not speak loudly in Portuguese with your friend to combat the loud English-speakers seated in front of you.
  • Never hum throughout the flight.
  • Please be aware of how much room you take up when wearing a backpack. Be careful when turning as your backpack might hit (repeatedly) the person in the seat next to you.

In an airport bathroom

  • Step out of the way to have a conversation to allow others to use the sink and hand dryer.
  • The bathroom stall is not the place to hold a conversation on your cell phone, especially when there is a line of people waiting.
  • Wash your hands, for Pete’s sake. Clean hands save lives!

In public places

  • Allow at least a foot of clearance between yourself and the person standing in front of you.
  • Do not “tsk,” sigh loudly, rifle through your handbag, talk with your friend, or otherwise disturb others during a tense documentary. The movie theater is not your living room.
  • It is OK to remove your leather jacket at a concert if you get hot. There is no need to sweat inside it, causing a cloud of body odor to emanate from you.
  • If you leave your spot in front of the stage at a concert, you forfeit rights to that spot. You can’t keep coming out and going back into the crowd. It is never OK to push people out of the way.
  • Do not breathe forcefully on the arm of the person next to you at a concert.

In the nail salon

  • Treat your customers kindly. Nail polish should not take hours to dry. If a customer complains about a problem with the manicure that resulted from many layers of polish not drying quickly, do not say to her, “You not careful.”
  • Toes are attached to feet. Do not try to wrench them off customers during a pedicure.

Thank you for your consideration,
Beth

Pip pip to the Brits

Dear People of Oxford, England:

Thank you for your hospitality when I visited last week for a conference. At no time did I feel that you thought less of me because I am an American. (Although perhaps I, like many Americans, was just oblivious.)

Thank you for not mocking me when I tipped, or took an inordinately long time trying to decipher the wording on the coins.

I know you could tell I am American because I smiled all the time and was extra friendly. I hope my American accent didn’t sound too much like a bird squawking. Or like this.

Americans are like dogs to England’s cats. We have big personalities and can be overwhelming. We’re always wanting attention, calling attention to ourselves, trying to engage people somehow. Running around with chew toys and slinging slobber. That sort of thing.

In contrast, you English folks are more reserved, aloof even. You might play with the metaphorical cat toy, but only if it suits you, and certainly not when anyone is watching.

But you were kind to me, and for that I am appreciative.

You really are jolly good chaps.

Cheerio, and I hope to see you again soon.
Beth

Musing on boobs

Hello Blog!

It’s been 10 days since we’ve hung out together. That may be a record. I’m really sorry. I’ve been preoccupied. I’m worried about my cholesterol (high), boobs (strangely dense, according to the mammogram) and skin (suddenly rashy). Don’t even get me started on work, and the fact that I’m two months behind on a major project (sorry, Regine!).

So, what have you been doing? I see you’ve been hanging in there with a hundred or so views a day, mostly from people wanting to get a look at some parasites.

I’ll bet you’ve really been wanting to talk about Romney and his 47 percent comment. It’s tempting, but I just can’t get into any more arguments this week. It’s pointless. No one is going to change his/her mind at this point. And if people are still undecided, then they aren’t really paying attention and/or don’t care enough to understand the issues.

The two choices for president are Mitt Romney and Barack Obama. No one else has a chance. So Obama’s not perfect, but I like him better than Romney for a variety of reasons.

Ann Landers once said:

The true measure of an individual is how he treats a person who can do him absolutely no good.

The corollary to it is that you can tell plenty about someone by the way he treats the waitstaff. Or the family dog.

Yep. That about sums up Romney’s character, I think, and his feelings toward almost half of America. Yet many of the people in that group, like the elderly (Hi, Dad!), will still vote for him. He’s got no plan, no numbers, no compassion, no sense, no charisma, no conviction.

And I’m not even a Democrat!

Faced with no real alternative (WHY did they choose Romney?), I’ll choose the party of “We’re in this together” versus “You’re on your own.” Maybe 2016 will be different.

Wait a minute. I just I did my own kind of flip-flopping. I said I wasn’t going to talk about this. Sorry about that. It was just too tempting, I guess.

Suddenly I’m not as concerned with my high cholesterol, dense boobs and rashy skin. And that work project seems manageable.

Thanks, Blog! You know how to make a girl feel better.

See you in a couple of days!
Beth

Here’s to you, Honey Boo Boo

Dear Honey Boo Boo:

Let me just say right off the bat that I love you. I think you are a funny, charming attention hog just like other 6-year-olds. There’s nothing appalling, earth-shattering or world-ending about your behavior.

It’s your mom who is unusual.

It has nothing to do with her so-called “forklift foot.”

It has nothing to do with her dreadful eating habits, which extend to the rest of the family (and to the rest of America, truth be told).

It also has nothing to do with her “criminal past” — a 2008 stint in jail for unpaid child support for your half-sister.

No, what is unusual about your mom is that, unlike many reality TV moms (and reality TV people in general), she appears to be the same on camera as she is off.

I love her as much as I love you, and I think she is also completely charming.

Many folks are on the warpath about your show, lamenting the decline of Western civilization and all that nonsense. Even Kris Jenner — that fine upstanding example of motherhood — has attacked your mom, claiming she exploits your family for money.  Because Kris Jenner would NEVER do that.

But I’ve defended your mom, you and your show. In my opinion, she and the rest of your family set a good example in one important way:

You clearly love each other and enjoy spending time together.

Sure, many people would look down their noses at going mudbogging, attending the Redneck Games, and hanging out at a rural water park.

But you know I’m not like many people. In fact, I bobbed for pigs’ feet at the games in the round after your sister. So I understand.

In a world filled with so much artifice, it is refreshing to see a family that approaches “real” more than any other family on television. For better or worse.

I guess the family that farts together, stays together.

You and your family should just keep on doing what you do. I’ll watch, which will make TLC happy, and will bring you more money for your trust fund.

You just try to ignore the critics. They don’t have to watch if they don’t like it.

See you Wednesday!
Beth

A memorable day

Dear Eddie:

Seventeen years ago today, we paraded around in Forsyth Park. You were wearing a tuxedo and I was wearing a lacy concoction I’d never wear today. Your hair was super tall and curly. I had accidentally dyed mine black. We still looked OK — for ’95 anyway.

Most of our friends were there with us, wearing clothes they’d never be caught dead in today. Remember Pat’s teal suit?

Since that day, we’ve had so much fun together. We’ve traveled around the world, kept great friendships and made new ones, created two new human beings, and laughed with/at each other every day. You roll your eyes at my reality TV obsession while I sigh at your fitness ones. You sew while I like to raise chickens. You like to play the part of Megatron with the kids while I’m off playing Words with Friends. It works.

Some people get together and want the other person to change. But we don’t do that. We are essentially the same people we were when we got together. We’re both independent and self-sufficient. We don’t need each other; we want each other.

We’ve gone through some rough patches, but we both realize that marriage is work. That work reaps amazing rewards. I credit She Who Must Not Be Named for helping us strengthen our relationship early. It was the opposite of what she hoped, I know (cue evil laughter). And to Nancy Lopez, who said we wouldn’t last a year, well … [the title of a Cee Lo Green song applies here].

I think we’ve lasted because we took our time getting together in the first place. You know that saying: Good things come to those who wait. OK, yes, it was a ridiculously protracted time, but whatever. It worked.

And it doesn’t hurt that you look better now than you did when we got married.

I’ve seen pictures of some of the people I used to date and I think, “Dear God! What is that thing?” “Well, I certainly dodged a bullet.” “My husband is unusually handsome!” So thank you for not letting yourself go all to hell. And I hope you don’t think I look too raggedy. I’ve tried to keep it together.

Anyway, happy anniversary. I love you (duh!) but I also still like you. And I think that’s more important.

Love always,
Beth

Stop the madness

Dear People Running for Office and Your Fervent, Angry Supporters:

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the venom spewing everywhere.

I know who I am voting for because I have examined carefully your platforms. I have evaluated what is important to me, and what will help me in my life and the lives of my friends and family.

Nasty ads are not going to make me change my mind. Snarky Facebook memes are not going to make me change my mind. Rage-filled comments telling me I am an idiot because I don’t support you are not going to make me change my mind. (In fact, those kinds of comments make me want to dig in my heels a little more.)

Of course, if someone wants to talk rationally WITH ME (not talk AT ME) about the different platforms, I’m all for it.

Perhaps you folks should do that.

The right and the left are not as far apart as screaming talk show hosts would like us to believe. Sadly, there’s no room for shades of gray in political rhetoric. (“50 Shades of Grey,” though, would be AWESOME!)

I’ve lost my will to correct people about their “facts.” I’ve lost the will to comment on an old college friends’ ridiculous slogan-filled status updates. I’ve really lost the will to use Facebook at all because I’m afraid of seeing more of the above. (I know I’ve posted my share of political things, but I’ve tried really hard not to be malicious. I’ve also tried to be fair if not balanced.)

We still have two months to go until the election. By now, I doubt there is a person left who has not made up his/her mind. So please can you just STFU?

I thank you, and my blood pressure thanks you.

Peace,
Beth