A Few Musings This April 24, 2007

Just returned from buying yet another bag I don't need, this time a really cool camouflage beach bag from J. Crew, along with a pair of flip-flops, since I appear to have lost my old ones. (Have to get ready for my vaca in Hawaii in June. Shows you were my mind is today.) I'm not proud of this, but I have to be honest. I have more purses and bags than most women. When I'm of the mind to humiliate myself, I will do a blog entry on my curious murse fetish. But on this glorious spring day, I wish to convey the following, through pollen plagued eyes, as I eat my Blake & Todd salad.

First, I just love the springtime. Can you get high off the weather? I do believe you can. There is something about the cool breezes, the sunny days, the ladies wearing less clothing that gets me all gingly joe. It's primal. It's as if everyone suddenly woke up, saw the budding flowers, and decided "Hey, it's spring. Time to recommence mating rituals. Let's %@$&!" Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "T., you are one hard up mofo. It's all in your head. Normal people get play all year long, you loser." Screw you.

Second, a word against the gleeful global criticism of the United States, which occurs at every opportunity. For all the bitching I do about the U.S., I have no desire whatsoever to live anywhere else. Okay, maybe I've thought about retiring in southern Italy someday. But that's it. I will take our screwed up government, which we have the option of changing every 4 and 6 years, over any other one in the world. I will take our culture, which yes, is plagued by gun violence, drugs, and poverty, among other ills, over those existing in other countries. At least we know what our problems are, unlike the biggest critics of the United States, who are oblivious to their own failings.

Take Iran, a country with a rich, deep history. Today Iranian authorities arrested 300 women for being "insufficiently veiled." Being insufficiently veiled is a crime in Iran, if you happen to be a second class citizen, i.e., a woman. In Saudi Arabia, they will chop your hand off if you get caught stealing a piece of bread. (This just in: crime is WAY down in Saudi Arabia.) In Russia, the powers that be are murdering journalists, one by one, who have the audacity to investigate abuses by Mr. Putin and his lieutenants. Putin's arrogance and hold on power are so complete, that most people believe that he orchestrated the fatal poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko, a leading Russian dissident, at a restaurant in London last November. Then, THEN, he tries to take out Paul Joyal, a Russian expert on the poisoning case who spoke out on Dateline, and suggested that remnants of the KGB were responsible for Litvinenko's poisoning. Joyal was shot in Maryland, right here in the good 'ol U.S. of A. "Local crime" my ass.

Then there's Italy, a place near and dear to me. As Mr. DeNiro said to his son in A Bronx Tale, there's nothing worse than wasted talent. Italy epitomizes wasted talent on a national scale. So much promise over there, but they are paralyzed by their own greed and corruption and unions that have way too much power. Indeed, I would need all my fingers and toes to count the number of leaders, including Berlusconi, who have paid kickbacks, greased palms, and consorted with ne'er-do-wells (always wanted to use that in a sentence), all to line their own pockets. You want crime? It's commonplace in southern Italy. I wasn't in Naples longer than 20 minutes before I saw two kids no older than 10 run up behind an open air delivery truck and steal four bottles of wine off the back. The street was crowded with people, all of whom saw them do it, and no one said a word. Oh, and the Sopranos have nothing on the real Mafia. Please.

Yes, we've got our problems here in America. Lots of them. But so do you. Before you rain your shit down on us, go pull that log out of your own eye. Then let's talk.

Last, but not least (because I finished my salad ten minutes ago and need to get back to work), I want to wish Sister J. a very very very Happy Birthday! I used to think that Dear A. was the first friend I ever had, but you arrived on the scene long before she did. Seeing D&O play (and argue) together over Easter reminded me so much of us that it was spookerific. I like to think that you helped me hone my debate skills while preventing me from becoming a hermit, which most certainly would have occurred had I been born an only child (until Sister T. came along of course, but by then the damage would have been done). You've also had my back throughout my life (sometimes in situations you helped create), and I can count on one hand the number of people who fit in that category. So, Happy 37th to you, my sister and first friend. Hopefully you'll get a chance to read this in between diaper changes and job hunting.
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