Via Making Light, Charles Pierce at Eric Alterman’s blog:

I have now lived through three major episodes in my life where the political elite have told me quite plainly that neither I nor my fellow citizens are sufficiently mature to suffer the public prosecution of major crimes committed within my government. The first was when Gerry Ford told me I wasn’t strong enough to handle the sight of Richard Nixon in the dock. Dick Cheney looked at this episode and determined that the only thing Nixon did wrong was get caught. The second time was when the entire government went into spasm over the crimes of the Iran-Contra gang and I was told that I wasn’t strong enough to see Ronald Reagan impeached or his men packed off to Danbury. Dick Cheney looked at this and determined that the only thing Reagan and his men did wrong was get caught and, by then, Cheney had decided that even that wasn’t really so very wrong and everybody should shut up. Now, Barack Obama, who won election by telling the country and its people that they were great because of all they’d done for him, has told me that I am not strong enough to handle the prosecution of pale and vicious bureaucrats, many of them acting at the behest of Dick Cheney, who decided that the only thing he was doing wrong was nothing at all, who have broken the law, disgraced their oaths, and manifestly belong in a one-room suite at the Hague. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m sick and goddamn tired of being told that, as a citizen, I am too fragile to bear the horrible burden of watching public criminals pay for their crimes and that, as a political entity, my fellow citizens and I are delicate flowers encased in candy-glass who must be kept away from the sight of men in fine suits weeping as they are ripped from the arms of their families and sent off to penal institutions manifestly more kind than those in which they arranged to get their rocks off vicariously while driving other men mad.

Hey, Mr. President. Put these barbarians on trial and watch me. I’ll be the guy out in front of the courtroom with a lawn chair, some sandwiches, and a cooler of fine beer. I’ll be the guy who hires the brass band to serenade these criminal bastards on their way off to the big house. I’ll be the one who shows up at every one of their probation hearings with a copy of the Constitution, the way crime victims show up at the parole board when their attacker comes up for release. I’ll declare a national holiday–Victory Over Torture Day–and lead the parade right up whatever gated street it is that Cheney lives on these days. Trust me, Mr. President. I can take it.

Everyone who was involved—everyone—in approving these decisions, from the top down, needs to be on trial. Open it up. Let us see what was done ostensibly in our country’s name. Better yet, put them on trial at the Hague—oh, but we don’t belong to the International Criminal Court! Isn’t that convenient!

We’re plenty strong out here, Mr. President. If you keep hiding this from us, we’re going to keep on doing it.

I’ve had to rediscover shopping lately, because I need some new clothes. I either a)hate the clothes I’ve been wearing and desperately want a new style, b)need new clothes because nothing I have fits at the moment, or c)have discovered a secret need to wear high heels. Okay, I don’t much understand (c) either, but ever since Nina brought over a pair of her Guess for Marciano spiked Mary Janes I’ve been wanting to wear heels like that. Only I have to practice, having been a strictly flats girl up until this point in my life, so I need to start with mid-range heels and work up to 4 1/2 inch spikes.

(She brought over the heels to try on with this dress

which I completely loved and coveted so much I went out and bought this dress

only because the red wasn’t available and because I need some kind of Little Black Dress, right? Now, of course, I need somewhere to wear this dress and whatever shoes I eventually find to go with them. I’ll leave that as an exercise for Darin.)

So I’ve been doing a lot of shopping recently. Or trying to, at any rate. I was completely unable to get into the mall at all last weekend, because of the flood of cars.

Okay, weekends are out. Yesterday I went to Valley Fair first thing in the morning, a Thursday morning, to the best of my knowledge not the first shopping day of the Xmas season or anything. And despite my intention to hand the Nordstrom shoe sellers as much money as I possibly could (at least, as much as one or two or maybe three pairs of good heels would set me back—as I have literally* have not bought anything but running shoes for years, people), I walked out of there empty-handed. Because as soon as one associate helped me, he or she disappeared to wait on the four or five other women on nearby couches buy as many shoes as they possibly could. Yes, several of them were better dressed than I was (see above, “needs new clothes”), but still. I’ve bought lots of shoes at Nordstrom over the years and never been completely ignored before.

Certainly not at eleven in the damn morning.

I finally went up to the lingerie department, where the associate was more than happy to tell me that I had gone down a band size and needed to buy several new bras.

Then I went to Macy’s and gave up on the shoe department—tons of shoe buyers, two or three very harried shoe salesmen.

I stopped in Sephora, where I was set upon by quite possibly the most hilarious queeny—his word!—makeup artist from Urban Decay ever. And the second I was out of his makeup chair, someone else was in it.

As far as I can tell, things are hopping, shopping-wise.

Then I read something like Kevin Drum’s entry today about real consumer spending, and it’s like, Whoa.

I don’t know whether the Silicon Valley is on the tail end of the dragon. Whether this ripple is spreading over the economy (starting in Detroit, maybe?) and is headed our way with a vengeance. But while there are plenty of sale signs in the windows, I haven’t seen anything like the sign one Tweeter I follow reported:

A local business is, as of today, 11/11/2008, displaying a sign out front which reads (& I am not making this up): AFTER CHRISTMAS SALE NOW

I did walk around the downtown area of my little town, and a couple of businesses are closing. But at the moment it doesn’t seem like a crazy amount. One storefront has been empty for a while—used to be a Sharper Image; remember not to go crazy with the gift cards this year—but it’s going to be an American Apparel soon. A couple of storefronts already have up signs about the next businesses moving in.

Then I read, via Hilzoy, an account in the Financial Times about what’s happened to Iceland. And how it’s spreading.

And I’m like, WTF?

I have no idea where this economy is going. I understand the need to bailout the automakers, despite the fact that they make crappy cars that no one buys. I don’t know what Hank Paulson is doing with that slush fund the Senate couldn’t wait to vote him a couple of weeks ago, and no one else does either. Oil is back down to the mid-50s, apparently because of the world recession. Or because of speculation. Or because…

Jesus, I’ve never felt this blog was so aptly named before.

The only thing I know is that I still need shoes. Of course, I don’t want to regret buying them a year from now when we’re trying to buy milk.

*It occurred to me a day after posting that in fact I did buy some shoes last year when I went to the writers and agents conference in November. But they totally f’d up my left foot and I never wear them any more. Management regrets the error.

Like everyone else, I am waiting for tomorrow to be OVER already. All Presidential elections are horrible, each in its own unique way. This one has stretched the limits of human credulity with its uniqueness—if you can’t remember for yourself, an artist has summed it up for us.

We haven’t had much to talk about this election. Actually, despite thinking for years I’d have been a Republican if Republicans were still like Ike, I’ve never ever liked any of the Republicans running for office that I can remember. I’ve always thought the other guy should win. It was years before I put two and two together and said, “Hey, there’s a name for someone who always likes the other guy.” I remember in 1988 my college roommate trying to decide between Bush the Elder and Dukakis and I said, “Supreme Court,” and that summed it up for me. Seriously, there was a choice? Please.

There’s only been one conversation my friends and I have had about this election, and it’s always pretty much begun the same way:

Did you ever think…

There’s nothing else to be said. We know which way that conversation is going. We’re all in our 30s and 40s and we all shake our heads. “Nope, we didn’t ever think it could happen. Not in our lifetimes.”

I remember thinking this election was over months ago, because there was no damn way the US was going to vote for the black guy. I was amazed for weeks as Obama stayed ahead. And the gap started growing.

(I know there have been jokes about movie Presidents like Morgan Freeman or TV Presidents like Dennis Haysbert preparing us for this moment—possibly the only good thing 24 has ever given us—but I would like to remind everyone that SF Chronicle columnist Jon Carroll actually prepared us for this much earlier, in a column he did about a million years ago. He said that one of the problems we have in the US is that our Head of State and Head of Government are the same guy. Other places they split them into President and Prime Minister, Prime Minister and Queen, Governor of Texas and Lieutenant Governor of Texas… so Carroll proposed we have a President and a Captainkirk, someone steady to guide us during troubled times, and he nominated James Earl Jones as the first Captainkirk. This was a column from pre-Web days—yes, children, there was such a time—so I can’t find a link. But he said this, he did.)

I don’t think any of the Republicans could have pulled this one out. (“Imagine the heads exploding if it had come down to the black guy versus the Mormon.”) Maybe it’s just the economy. Maybe it’s just Republican fatigue. But I don’t think so. It really seems people have been responding to a message of, “We’re all in this together,” and not “Aiiieee! The other is coming! Everybody freak out now!” which has been the standard Republican mantra for years now.

I’m not a big fan of Obama—one word: FISA; another couple of words: no Bush prosecutions—but the perfect is the enemy of the good and it’s not, in fact, all about me. I have plenty of Obamaniac friends and their enthusiasm will have to do. I indicated my enthusiasm with political donations. We’re all going to be in Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride for the next couple of years, and in the words of the ancient Chinese urban legend, get ready for your heaping share of Danger + Opportunity galore.

Oh, and this tax plan Obama’s proposed? I plugged our family’s numbers into it, and we get a tax cut. Let me repeat that: WE get a tax cut. If we’re getting a tax cut, I don’t want to hear one goddamn whingeing word out of your mouth about fears of your taxes going up, okay? If your taxes are going up, trust me: you can afford it. So just shut the hell up, fasten your seatbelt, and thank your personal deity you have the money to be taxed.

Can anyone get Chevy Chase onto Weekend Update to say: “This just in: Barack Obama is still black!”

That should make it easier on the McCain/Palin crowd.

I won’t be able to watch the VP Debate—I’m going to be working over at the Foothill New Works Festival (seats still available!). If you’re going to be watching the debates and making a drinking game out of it, you need to prepare ahead of time, however. So here are a few ideas:

The Number One Rule: More important than having lots of coffee on hand, have lots of water available, to flush the alcohol out of your system. All coffee does is make you a wide-awake drunk.

Now, on to the game:

Obama – “Look” – 1 sip
Mccain – “My friends” – 1 sip
“Change” – jumping jack (to burn off alcohol)
Obama – “Are you f’ing kidding me?” – 2 sips
McCain – “POW” – chug
McCain – out and out lie – 1 sip (trying to pace ourselves)
McCain – mentioning Sarah Palin – 2 sips
Obama – 3 syllable word – 1 sip
“Iraq” – run around the house lift glass, yell
Obama – “John is right” – Diane screams
McCain – “terrorist organizations” – laugh hysterically
McCain – “Look” – 1 sip
Wondering who these corky CNN graders are – 1 sip
McCain – “Miss Congeniality” – 1 sip (max 3 sips)
Obama – induces McCain rage – 1 sip
Obama gets to 50 points with CNN analysts – Craig and Erik jam
McCain – “Maverick” – scream in disbelief

(We are so far behind real-time in this debate and I’m already toasty.)

McCain – mentions where he’s been or who he’s met – drink coffee
McCain – “What Senator Obama doesn’t understand” – throw tissues at TV wish we’d kept track of how many times that one had come up

HE ACTUALLY BROUGHT UP BEING A POW. Unfuckingbelievable.