Some Half-Baked Alaskan

Forwarded by a friend, and just what I've been thinking about these days...
Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for "The Vagina Monologues", wrote the following about Sarah Palin.

Drill, Drill, Drill.

I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.

I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.

But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.

I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country choose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.

Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, "It was a task from God."

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.

She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States . She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.
Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.

I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S. , but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, "Drill Drill Drill." I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?

September 5, 2008

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

It's day 5 with no coffee. NO COFFEE. I 've had forms of caffeine in various power bars, green teas, matcha tea, and even a green-kombucha tea combo. But I miss my coffee. I have to say, this was a new and unwelcome addiction entirely. Years of being offered espresso under conditions that can only be referred to as terrorist hospitality gave me a throat-jerk dislike for the bitter sharp taste of coffee. Add some hot milk and sugar and now you're talking... As one dearly beloved said, this is "desert in a mug" and I agree. Pure Liquid Gold, as the Spanish conquistadors said to the Mayans.

The Mayans predicted something big goes down, or the world would end, in 2012. I know, I'm mixing it up...but if coffee were to run out in 2012, I could totally see that day of destruction: So long Starbucks. I hardly knew ya.

For a very new habit, why am I so attached? It all started last year, hangin' out with those wild non-fiction writers in coffeeshops around town. Coffehouses. Coffeebars. First it was a cappuccino. Then a small latte. When I wanted to have an I.V. hook-up to double-shot Grande Latte, well it's GAME OVER.

So day cinq sans coffee. I'm building up to removing caffeine entirely. [COUNTDOWN: 2 weeks]Today was harder to take..it's overcast and I had a deaf man yelling at me through his Telus-relay operator. Truly an experience that would drive one to drink Draino, let alone strong, cheap coffee. I replied to all his frustrated and angry questions and waited during the time-delay for his reply and the relay operator raised her voice to repeat his typed out message to her, so I heard "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE RIGHT NOW..." then she lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper "It's not like this is your fault, he just isn't getting it..." I said "Thank you for saying so. Could you tell him I've now been on the phone with him for12 minutes , I've run out of options to reroute his call and I need to terminate the call. He can call back later."

I really, really, really wanted to yell back. I wanted to swear, actually, he'd been so rude for the duration of the call. Rude and a tad incomprehensible. I think there was an ESL problem, compounded with a touch of psychosis. So it couldn't have been fun for him, and I imagine he's under a tremendous amount of stress.

Still, it's really hard to hear a relay operator say "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE NOW...why you follow my kids and harrass family...I...call media in half an hour ...you don't get me ...phone.... my fax sent and last year WHY YOU STILL HARRASS ME AND MY KIDS?!" and not respond with

"What the FUCK are you saying?"

Sadly, my schedule this Fall doesn't allow time for a non-violent communications course, but I'm already looking into the Spring schedule. I wonder if I really need it, cause I didn't say it. I just wanted to. Big difference, right?

It's just, there's this part of me that wants to say to people, in the nicest, most non-violent way possible: Nothing gives you the right to be an asshole. Nothing.

Maybe he was giving up coffee too. Poor jerk.

Caw-fee, Sugah, Foamed Milk & Other Reasons to Live

I went to a TCM place last week, that’s Traditional Chinese Medicine. Where, for a paltry sum, I got herbs that look AND taste like un-used cat-litter, and accupuncture. All to help with this little problem I have of feeling exhausted all the time. You say gluten, I say anaemia. Let’s call the whole-wheat thing off.

They measured my pulse, and described it as “slippery” and “witty”. I’m not making that up. I was reading it upside down though, so there is some margin for error and interpretation. As I lay there with needles poking into me from my forehead to the arch of my foot, I tried to think of what other word it could possible be. Watty? Wotty? Wetty?

No. Clearly, I have a brilliant pulse. Slippery when wet, and genius.

Sure.

My pulse could win the Throbbing Pulse of a Brainiac’s Wet T-shirt Competition. If such a thing existed.

I didn’t bother to ask if I should eliminate any items from my diet, I just sat there and listened to terms like “chi stagnation” and “tonify the liver”. I was told “there’s a lot of pain” and I said, “Well yes, I’m exercising a lot and feeling it too.”

[Blogger’s insert: bootcamp….some Brainiac that makes me…more like a glutton for punishment. Is there a Glutton for Punishment Wet Something Contest? Or does that just about cover all those disturbing reality shows I haven’t seen? Okay, I’ve seen some excerpts, but I had to turn away. Shield my eyes. Pray for the fate of humanity.]

The woman said “No, emotional pain. You hold it here and here.” She pointed to her lungs and her stomach. “This is the weakness you feel, the tired all the time.”

I didn’t say “Emotional pain? Well, I’m human.” I wanted to, but I didn't. I mean really, did everyone else get through puberty unscathed? Survive middle school without severe trauma?

Well bully for you.

You won’t need acupuncture.

I guess that makes you special.

Big deal.

As if I believe you.

As if.

Youtube? Metube too!

I posted on youtube! This is quite the feat for a luddite such as myself:

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eufemia+stand+up&search_type=&aq=f

Now I'm a recipient of the Time Person of the Year Award 2006, right? Like I can add that to my resume? No, seriously, tell me....'cause I'm calling my dad and telling him. Okay, it's no Nobel Prize for Peace, but then again, I'm no Kissinger.

Painkillers vs. Killjoys

There I was, standing in my local all-night super market at 5:30 am. I was enroute to my 6 a.m. bootcamp class, and I was on a mission: get painkillers. At first, the young man trying to help me points me down aisle 4. I hardly ever shop at this place, but even I know that they would never stock painkillers on aisle 4. Or any aisle, for that matter. The boxes are small and a bit too easy to steal in a neighbourhood that gets pilfered a lot. This guy must be new.

After he points me in the direction of a locked glass cabinet – I stand there trying to decide which painkiller would best suit a roommate with a fever. There’s Cold & Flu, there’s Sore Muscle & Back Pain Relief, there’s even Extra-Strength Existential or Mid-life Crisis Relief! Okay, no, I wish. I could not find the one for Fever, and all around pain that would wake said roomie at 5 am.

I mean, I had to get up. I paid good money to get up that early and run around outside, doing push-ups while someone in charge of my workout routine mocked my general lack of athletic ability. For anyone who knows me, I’m a morning person, but this would mean I was a ‘pre-dawn person’. Can’t say that’s my happy hour at all. I pick out what I think would work best, walk back over to the cash.

The young fellow rings it up at says “Drugs are bad. In the long run, it’s not good for you. But they do offer relief I guess.”

I’m in a bit of a stupor, standing there at 5:30 am, with a look on my face that I think says “Are you talkin’ to me?” It’s just past 5 am, fer crying out loud, do I know where I am? Not really, but hey, I’ve got an idea, why not engage me in conversation when you erroneously sent me down aisle 4 when I knew you were wrong but I humoured you anyway.

I wait until he hands me my change, at which point there’s another man next to me in line (doesn’t anyone sleep in this ‘hood?) and I say “You’d probably need painkillers at least once a month if you were female. I think that’s more the issue.” And I stalk away. Actually, more like I stumble away, as I tripped on my shoelace, but I repeat: it was really, really early. In the morning. All I could think was: does this guy actually know the meaning of pain? True physical pain? Of course he does, he’s human, but still what does he do? Bite down on a wooden spoon?

I know, not all women need painkillers. I know some females who can control the pain factor with reduced caffeine, sugar and gluten (Amazons, I tell ya, these women are modern-day Amazons) but like I’m going to be rude enough to go into all that while standing in line at the supermarket? Before day-break, when I can barely put a coherent thought together?

I thought about it.

Some days, that’s enough.

Mr. Harper, what were you thinking?

Dear Mr. Stephen Harper,

The first year I was old enough to vote, Brian Mulroney won the election with a majority vote for a second term. I myself would have to sustain a massive head injury with a blunt object before I would ever vote for you, or any member or the Conservative Party. I thought I should be upfront. Not that you care what I think, but I still wanted to mention, in my opinion, you suck.

I was really hoping to make an argument that was much more articulate, but I am beyond the ability to think clearly and rationally. I am surprised to have to tell the leader of a great nation the varied and multiple benefits of building and maintaining a strong artistic community.

Often, the arts work as our ambassadors to other countries, other cultures. I admire artists for so many reasons I don’t even know where to begin, but here’s one I thought even you would understand: Artists are the ones that entertain the troops. I should explain I’m expanding the definition of troops not only as the folks overseas, but as the people here at home, working day by day, building their families and their communities into a country we could all be proud of, a country many could admire.

Simply put, I think art saves lives. It changes people, it heals the masses. The only way I could ever applaud you, sir, is in the level of this stupidity:

Only last week, the government had announced it would slash the following programs because they were deemed out of date:
Trade Routes ($9 million).
the A-V Preservation Trust ($300,000).
the Canadian Independent Film and Video Fund ($1.5 million).
the National Training Schools Program ($2.5 million).
PromArt ($4.7 million).
All programs will disappear by the end of March 2009.

Shame on you, and shame on your political party. Make that a pox on your political party. When they go down in those figurative flames, I’ll be dancing in the streets to music by some Canadian artist, I’m sure.