I think. Maybe. Possibly. Who knows. I did go to the polls, I did sign in, and I did poke the touch-screen, which did light up appropriately. Whether or not that actually correlates to the recorded blip in the data stream is a matter for debate.

A debate, I am proud to say, that I had with the poll workers. I told them I wanted a paper trail. I told them that as someone who works all day, every day with computers, I no more trust them than I trust the lying sack of shit that is my ex-husband. Or the lying sack of shit that is the current President of the United States.

OK, I didn't really say that. I just said that I didn't trust the machines or the companies that make the machines.
As for the bread and circuses going on in New York City, the RLA wants to watch, so he knows what the enemy is doing. I can't watch it at all. I can't listen to NPR, or read the paper. The spin, and the lies, and the hate are too much for me.

I despair over my country. I have never been a flag-waving, my country right or wrong kind of American. I have hidden my face in shame at how we portray ourselves to the world. I am leery of what we pass off as culture. I've toyed with the thought of being an ex-patriot on any number of occasions in my life.

But. And it is a huge but. For all the faults that I see, for all the things that make me not exactly proud to be an American, I understand that this is the freest country in the free world. As someone with opinions and the big mouth to express them, I know that I am better off in America than anywhere else.

However, with this president and the religous right that controls him, I don't believe that any more. I don't think I'm safe here. Not from the enemies without, but from the enemies within.

I am a Jew. And I believe that the "Christian" (intolerant) right that is pulling the puppets strings have plans for me. I believe that those plans include box cars, or the modern equivalent. I believe that this war in the Middle East is very much a holy war, on both sides. I believe that Bush believes that he is driving us to the Apocolypse and that that is a good thing.

I don't know about you, but I don't think that's a good thing at all. So do me and the rest of the world a favor, and go out and vote.

Lord knows I disparage my work place and co-workers with some frequency (and some cause) and even turn a blind eye when others do the same. But. There's something about seeing the CEO of the organization doing the same thing, in the press, and singling out your own department for particular scorn, that makes one uneasy.
What he said was that my department was "Mayberry, USA". I agree, but have to wonder which of the geniuses up the food chain from me is Barney Fife. Of course I’m prejudiced here, but my own PHB is number one with a bullet, I think. His boss is sort of Middle-Aged, Balding Ken Doll. I'd like to think of myself as Opie, albeit with blonde hair and a different gender. But Opie all the same: ingenuous, happy-go-lucky and believing in the inherent good in all people.

OK, so maybe not Opie. But certainly not Barney, and not Aunt Bea. Hmm. The more I ponder this, the less I want to be any of those characters. The one character I can relate to from that television era is more like Miss Whatshername, the tight ass who wasn’t really a tight ass on The Beverly Hillbillies. She was the voice of tolerance and reason there, wasn’t she?

I always wanted to be Jeannie. Maybe not BE Jeannie, per se, but certainly live in her bottle. And I wanted to wear the cool clothes she wore when she was being a genie, and not the faux-mod get-ups they put her in when she was out of her bottle.

I digress.

The baby quilt sold to a lovely fellow traveler from Atlanta. Thanks so much for making it happen.

I've put one of my quilts on e-bay as part of the MoveOn PAC virtual yard sale. Normally my work sells for hundreds of dollars, even the little guys like this adorable red, white and blue 1930s reproduction print baby quilt.


If you would like a chance to buy this quilt, it is currently on e-bay with a start price of only $25. Whatever the final sale price is, I will donate that money to MoveOn PAC.

There is only one day left on this auction, and so far, no bidders at all. This is a great opportunity to help dump Dubya, and buy one of my quilts for an insanely low price.

Take a peek at the auction.

My fan in Ottawa has sent another death threat. I filed a report with the local police, who were less than helpful. They suggested that if I didn't want to receive death threats, that I shouldn't write bad things about people.

I let that slide, because the first ammendment is on shaky ground these days, anyway. Why argue your right to free speech with the police? Never, ever, going to win that one. So, grudgingly, it seems, they wrote a report and gave me a case number.

I asked if they would be contacting the Mounties and they said, in a word, no. If I felt so strongly about it, I could.

Well, for some odd reason, I do feel strongly about it. Call me crazy, but dying over a bad film review just doesn't seem worth it to me.

Here's today's question: Should I remove my rant about David Lynch and hope that satisfies my threatener?

As I start this entry, I don't have a title for it. Eat the corn from my shit was my first thought, but that's the punchline, and I need to save it for later.

Another idea was "Threats Will Never Silence Me", because that's what this is all about. Over in the other part of my website, I have a short stack of rants. They are, or are not, in utter seriousness. I have, on occasion, been known to argue for the sake of argument and not because I feel strongly (or even weakly) about the topic at hand.

One of my rants is about how I despise Paul McCartney. It generates a fair ammount of hate mail. Another rant is about the nano-second people: you know, those folks who NEED to push ahead of you in any line, who honk their car horns the microt the light changes from red to green, and who merge ahead of you, rather than behind you when the highway narrows. Still another is based upon my disdain for the talent and reputation of the film maker David Lynch.

It is this last which has caused some asshole loser in Ottowa to come unhitched. For the last year or so he has been sending me death threats. I've reported him to my local authorities, his local authorities, and to every web mail service he uses (as you may imagine, that changes with some frequency). I have blocked him from my e-mail, but when I changed blog servers, my e-mail server changed as well, and sure enough, not a full week in, there is another threat from this one-handed typist. (Oh, come on, you know what I'm getting at there.)

I know, believe me, I KNOW that I'm not supposed to engage in dialogue with someone so unbalanced, but tonight... well, tonight, I'd had a drink, and there he was and I just replied without thought.

I quoted the late, great Leapin' Larry Greene. The complete text of my e-mail is below.

"You loser, you can, to quote my old pal Leapin' Larry, eat the corn from my shit."

I know that this is going to end badly. I don't think that he'll actually show up here and do as he threatens: put a bullet behind my ear, but the way this year is going? Who fucking knows.

Anyway, if any of you would like to entertain yourselves by sending hate mail to someone who must not get any other kind, feel free to address it to:

.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)

And as far as I can tell, Mark Fleischhaker is his real name. He is a singer, it would seem, for some random punk rock band in Canada that doesn't have a web reference more recent than 2002. (XL Birdsuit, if you really care. I know that I don't.)

And that, except for a rather evil session with Nic Cage, was my night.

Many years ago, part of my workplace's corporate mantra was something about a single standard of care, regardless of one's ability to pay. It was a shining example of truth in advertising, because we did have a single standard: we treated everyone like shit.

We still do, but now we have taken it to higher (or lower, I'm not sure how that works) standards. We treat each other even worse.

Today I received a request for assistance from some poor schmuck in a fly-over state, who was looking for a medical expert to back up a cock-a-mamie theory of his in a (probably) frivolous lawsuit.

I sent the request over to our official designated responder to all web-delivered questions.

After a few hours, I got a response from her. In its entirety, the response said "I'm not going to answer this jerk." (Yes, boys and girls, the official designated responder is none other than our own dear Loogie, of the PR office.)

I sent her another e-mail, and asked, "Not even to offer the courteous reply of Sorry, but we cannot help you.?" It shamed her into doing just that, only without the word "sorry" and with a touch of condemnation in her tone, as she stated that we could not help him with his lawsuit.

I'm thinking of designing t-shirts that say "Demand Civility." What do you think? Would they sell?