Thao and the Get Down Stay Down continue to suit my every mood.
John McCain's VP pick has resulted in me not watching cable news, or The News Hour (which I pretty well love), or The Daily Show, or The Colbert Report, or completely any t.v. between the hours of six and eight a.m.
She scares the pants off me, frankly. And that's putting it quite nicely.
When I think of her square, nasal accent, I get a headache.
When I think about her trying to have books banned in Wasilla, and then firing the librarian who merely upheld the First Amendment (and stood up to the mayor, oooOOOoohh), I get flashes of V for Vendetta and worry about my Harry Potters.
When I consider what the love child of the Republican ticket would look like, I see one HUGE jaw bone, and I have a waking nightmare that I (and my medical privacy) am a gumball.
When I think about her hypothetical hope that, should her daughter be impregnated after being raped, she'd "choose life," I get downright nauseous.
When I think about her glorification of motherhood combined with her beliefs/ideals/ethics/what have you, which would effectively shoot the feminist movement, and gender equality, and any semblance of civil rights point blank in the kneecaps, I begin to plan my escape route. I also throw up.
What kind of palm-greasing would it take to stockpile birth control pills?
How long does it take for a work visa to come through?
Not that I'm planning to have an abortion anytime soon, but hypothetically, should I be raped, what is Canada's policy on abortion? Will I have to have documented proof that it was a rape? Will I have to provide a detailed description of the outfit I was wearing at the time of the rape? Will I have to take the blame?
I fully admit that my current MO is modeled off the ostrich. I am not proud; I'm scared. But because I like to sleep through the night and keep down my meals, I will continue to keep my t.v. off, and my deepest hope for Barak Obama burning burning burning.