The dancing shoes are staying in the closet.
As I told an acquaintance yesterday, the real benefit of being a glass-half-empty sort of girl is that when something good happens, it’s a surprise instead of a relief.
I have to admit, though, that it’s gettingincreasingly hard to resist enchantment.
And in that vein, I’d like to say something to everybody who ever said it was over this time, completely over. When Gonazles was confirmed, when Alito and Roberts made the court, when Kerry conceded, when the Pinochet Act (tm watertiger) passed, when yet another Dem said yet another thing that was less stupid than anything a Republican had said in months but got twice the airplay, when Dean screamed, when Hackett dropped out. I’d like to say something to all of you now.
This is why we didn’t give up.
If we’d given up then, we wouldn’t have been here for this. And I can’t imagine not being here for this. Can you imagine not being here for this? For the past two weeks, it’s been a nonstop shitstorm for the GOP. Congressmen hitting on underage pages and other congressmen covering it up. Woodward’s book painting Rumsfeld as somewhere between Ahab and Willy Wonka. George Allen and the deer head story (which to my mind is worse than macaca, worse than his reaction to the question about his mother, worse even than his politics). Bob Ney, Curt Weldon, Ken Blackwell, so many corruption scandals I can’t even count them all, and Rick Santorum comparing our military to hobbits. Every single time I turn on the TV there’s an anchor sitting there with her WTF face on, trying not to laugh out loud. Don’t let’s forget the meth-buying gay-sexing anti-gay pastor. Even I couldn’t believe that one. It was like God had decided, finally, once and for all, okay, fuck it, the souls he is winning for me are not worth my having to sit next to him at dinner parties, I’m done with his ass.
Karma. Tastes like chicken. Honey-glazed chicken with fried sage stuffed under the skin. Mmm.
This is why you rant and you rail and you spend a couple of days kicking stuff and yelling at the pets after something goes horribly wrong, but in the end, you get back up, because tomorrow something like this happens and you don’t want to miss it. The dancing shoes are staying in the closet and the pen’s staying out and to the paper, fingers on the keys, because we’ve got a couple of days of work yet to do. But I want you to look around and try to imagine having given up, and not having made it here today.