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BIASED UNBALANCED AND POLITICALLY INCORRECT Posts

Tolerance and Diversity Alive and Well at the Supermarket

Home or curbside delivery of groceries has a dark side to it. This service separates us from the one place where commonality unites us and tolerance and acceptance co-exist; the supermarket.

Our neighborhood supermarket is not a small bodega, but part of a large chain. A mini united nations, hijabs, turbans, and saris mix freely with saggers, soccer mom’s activewear, high fashion stilettos, business attire and retired folks sweats.

I’ve been tapped on the shoulder more than once by a shopper who speaks limited English wanting to know where an item is.

The other day, I asked a tall black man if he would grab the horseradish off the top shelf for me. He asked which heat level I wanted and when I replied, “extra hot”, His mom dressed in her African kaftan, clasped her hands to her chin and smiled her approval. I didn’t know if she smiled because she approved of my choice, or because we are both short.

I wandered over to the olive oil section and as I read the ingredients listed on my selection, this very handsome young man sidled over to me and said, “you might as well cook with lighter fluid.” Thoughts of who I could hook him up with raced around in my brain until he introduced his partner, another handsome young man. While giving me a brief rundown on a cooking class they were taking, I wondered, how did they know I was approachable. I am in that demographic group that if one believes pollsters, is intolerant of just about everything.

I concluded it must be the white hair, code for “grandma” everywhere, as babies from all ethnicities wave and smile at me from their mother’s shopping cart.

Not everyone is as tolerant of older people as babies are.

Often, portrayed as stodgy, not with it; comparable to the “use by date” yogurt taking up space in the fridge.  I observed an older couple as they pushed their shopping cart to the exit of the store. Walking side by side, the woman reached over and gave the man a little pinch on his hinny. So much for stodgy; I’m guessing putting their purchases away first when they arrived back home was not a priority.

I’ve seen every ethnicity, combination of diversity and age group at our supermarket interact without any hint of controversy or discord.

It occurred to me the reason why may be because the one thing I have never seen there is a big, red, ugly MAGA cap.

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You Might As Well Be Happy

Mary Margaret first published this October 6, 2016. She struggles to be happy every day since the election. Trump’s tariffs increased the price of Mary Margaret’s top items on her food pyramid; tequila and avocados;

If the unthinkable occurs and Donald Trump wins the presidential election the dire predictions are depressing. Life under a Trump presidency makes my head hurt just to think about it.

I have fifteen plus years of experience in dealing with jackasses elected officials in Texas.
They set the gold standard in teaching women how to survive under the leadership of cretins.

I decided I might as well be happy and look on the bright side.

  • A Donald presidency could inspire Democratic legislators to create Pulitzer worthy oratory.
  • The lobbyist will kill off each other in their quest to prove the art of the deal with the Donald, er… President.
  • With no lobbyist to appease and screw up everyone’s lives, legislators can binge watch House of Card or Alpha House and prepare for the next election.
  • Republican legislators who denounced “the Donald” created a demand for a new business paradigm. 
  • Universities will offer courses in how to walk back public denunciations. Courses like How to Appear Business like and Hold Your Nose 101 or Filing for Bankruptcy can be Fun 102.
  • Get Motivated added Chris  Christie to their speakers’ circuit. He will address How to Purse Your Lips and Lie Through Your Teeth for his portion of the seminar.

The economy could improve.

  • The market for self-help and survivalist books will sell hot off the press.
  • Liquor sales will explode.
  • Medicare will cover hair transplants, orange hair dye, and tanning booth sessions for men.

In parting, here are a couple of stock market tips; invest in concrete; the price will skyrocket. Takes a lot of it to build walls.

Hoard white sheets now and sell them at a two hundred percent markup to hate mongers. 

Hey, don’t judge! This just makes me smart.

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“Trump Covers Most of the 13 Things We as Seniors Want.”

I knew better than to open an email with this heading from an old friend. Anything with the heading Seniors is usually going to make me madder than hops. But the topic hit two of my hot buttons.

I was curious to see how an otherwise intelligent, successful person could drink the Trump Kool-aid and I am out of the loop on blanket endorsements by older people.

This brief caveat preceded the list of thirteen things seniors want:

“Truthfully, we are usually in agreement with most of what he says but wish someone else was saying it.  But you have to listen to him and not be distracted by his showmanship and obnoxious behavior. But what matters is that he covers most of the 13 things we as seniors want.”

  1. Put “GOD” back in America!
  2. Borders: Closed or tightly guarded!
  3. Congress: On the same retirement & healthcare plans as everybody else.
  4. Congress: Obey its own laws NOW!
  5. Language: English only!
  6. Culture: Constitution and the Bill of Rights!
  7. Drug-Free: Mandatory Drug Screening before & during Welfare!
  8. Freebies: NONE to Non-Citizens!
  9. Budget: Balance the damn thing!
  10. Foreign Countries: Stop giving them our money! Charge them for our help! We need it here.
  11. Fix the TAX CODE!
  12. RESPECT OUR MILITARY AND OUR FLAG!”
 If this was a blanket endorsement by older people, I'm beginning to understand why they are tools for pollsters. Urban dictionary: Tool: One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool.

Here’s my take on thirteen things that seniors admire about “The Donald.”

All of their rantings about morality has sent the far right segment of the older population off the rails. Do a balance sheet of “wrongdoings” of Hillary vs Donald and get back to me.

The demographic that correctly identifies these folks is bigotry not senior. When it serves their purpose they drag God, respect and the military into the equation.

Nothing about Trump’s behavior indicates he has a clue about godliness.

He has totally disrecpected the office of the Presidency.

As for the military, I guess many of these folks forgot Trump had bone spurs when it came time to man up.

Older people are not given due consideration and often have to deal with exclusion and marginalization.

To my friend who sent the email; I know I won’t hear from you again and to tell the truth, I’m not sorry.

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Respecting Political Differences When Donald Trump Is the Difference

Does respecting political differences mean we should forgive Trump voters? I’m having a hard time with that point of view. Let me re-phrase that; I have a difficult time putting Trump and respect in the same sentence.

Two years of not mentioning the elephant in the room during family and social gatherings and I’m done.

Respecting political differences was easy prior to Trump.

But, if you voted for his full frontal, narcissistic attitude, it reveals aspects of your character I cannot admire and I’m having a difficult time getting past that.

Accepting him at face value, had his history and past behavior been buried, should have tipped off even the totally clueless that he is horribly flawed and unfit to lead anything.

When it comes to family members who voted for him, it is especially horrifying if it is an adult child. Conflicting and competing reactions race around in my head.

As a parent was I a failure? Did I somehow fail to convey the standard of common decency and humanity? Where were you during your high school civics class? Did you sleep during World History? (I would have known had you failed the course.)

On the other hand, I encouraged you to think for yourself and not follow the crowd; it was okay to be different, (BUT NOT THAT DIFFERENT.) How can I be horrified that you chose to do exactly that?

Other family members fall into varying categories. Siblings fall into the category of having received more of the crazy aunt/uncle’s DNA than I like to acknowledge. I sigh, “It could be worse,” and try not to think about it.

As for what in-laws think about me: well who is surprised? They always knew something was a bit “off” about me anyway; even worse I managed to corrupt one of their own.

What I think about their views: I’m not surprised; I always knew something was a bit off about them, except for the amazing one I married.

Respecting political differences is difficult to reconcile when the consequences of those differences will take decades of recovery.

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Group Texting Can Be Dangerous in the Hands of Novices

Group texting is the fastest way to piss off just about everyone. The odds are in favor of somebody getting hopping mad. The stench from broadcasting a comment intended for a lone recipient is insurmountable.

This has happened to me on more than one occasion. For instance, it’s 10:00 PM and I receive a text from my friend Sarah. She wants to know if I am attending Peggy’s lunch the following day.

I respond, “Hell no, the last time I was at Peggy’s house she served something that looked like dog food. In fact, dog food would have been an improvement, but I came up with a plausible whopper to escape the event.”

Immediately after I hit the “send” button, “recipients – Sarah and PEGGY  flashed briefly on the screen. There is no way to recover from that. Seconds later, I receive a group response from Peggy informing Sarah, she is serving chateaubriand for two.

I didn’t believe it was possible for me to make matters worse, but I managed to overachieve.  A dear friend sent a text message saying she was just fine after a somewhat delicate outpatient procedure. Believing she might need a bit of encouragement, I replied with a bawdy comment or two (okay, it was three.) Seconds later, my phone blew up with notifications from women I did not know; my friend’s prayer group.

It was a learning experience. I have never seen so many biblical references relative to my comments.

I checked the settings on my text message app. There is no way to block group text messages. I called my cell provider whose lame suggestion was to tell my friends not to send me group text messages.

I sent a group text message to all contacts. Again, a learning experience. I was not aware of the variety of lascivious emoji. My phone is silent, but email is overflowing. If I can just remember not to “reply to all.”

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How to Survive that Left Out Feeling When Your Workout Gear is Tacky

My workout gear, rescued from the Goodwill bag, wasn’t wonderful when I bought it at Wal-Mart. It’s a gym. I’m supposed to look gross, with bed head hair, no makeup, sweating and grunting .

Women look at me as if I don’t belong there and I am intimidated. I feel as though I am in the nightmare where you show up in public in your underwear and everyone laughs.

Most arrive at the gym sporting designer workout gear; perfectly coiffed with every hair lacquered in place. Freshly manicured nails highlight astonishing jewelry. They leisurely stroll to the weight machines, heads held aloft leaving a cloud of Shalimar in their wake.

Struggling to lift a 15 lb weight, no expression of exertion registers on their face. Closer inspection reveals they are unable to emote facially. They have been stretched six ways for Sunday. Behind the massive bouffant hairdo is enough leftover skin to cover my sofa.

Some are accompanied by a buff young trainer named “Nick” or “Alex”. You never see a big rawboned Olympian female trainer with these chicks. Presenting body images that most women cannot achieve without starvation, surgery, and liposuction reinforces unrealistic expectations. I think they should be banned from the gym.

If I owned designer attire, I would not wear it to the gym. A buff young trainer is not in my budget. I will never look like these women and I’m not sure I want to.

If you ask me, the gym is penance, not performance art. I’m gonna go have a big burger with fries and a Hefeweizen. If I’m lucky maybe I can find some work out gear that still fits.

Note: This was my first blog post, written February 2010. Shortly after, I found a gym where women wear old clothes, no makeup and, though none will admit it, go for a hamburger and fries afterward.

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Super Short Hairstyle

Judy Dench is the only woman of a certain age who can rock a super short hairstyle. I learned this the hard way after my stylist scalped me; a process not unlike dethatching grass.

The androgynous look does zip for mature women. Had I worn a white tee shirt, with a pack of Marlboro reds tucked in the sleeve I could have passed for a teamster trucker. I looked like Freddy Krueger’s deranged grandmother.

I live in Texas. Fall out from the previous legislative session and the “bathroom bill” had the potential to make it extremely hazardous to answer natures call with this hairstyle. To be on the safe side I carried my birth certificate to avoid being hassled in the restroom.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed wearing jeans was a nonstarter. A mad dash to the mall’s nearest cosmetic counter was in order. I was humbled by the cosmetic associate’s effort to smother laughter, while she rang up an impressive amount of dollars on my credit card.

The harsh light of my bathroom mirror confirmed I had been duped. The cosmetic improvements of red lipstick, pink eye shadow, and false eyelashes made me look like a drag queen reject. I was unable to duplicate the tricky turban wrap, and the huge loop earrings bounced off my shoulders.

Google is a lifesaver; they have an answer for everything. I discovered a delightful YouTube drag queen makeup tutorial, but my appearance failed to live up to those standards. I looked like an oversized garden gnome.

After a few days, cabin fever set in and I ventured out to run errands. The pharmacy tech suggested it might be time to check in with the doctor for overdue labs. I tried to ignore the check out person at the supermarket chewing her bottom lip as she sacked my groceries.

Worn out from futile attempts to deny the obvious, I returned the make-up with a middle finger salute to the cosmetic associate as I left. She gave me a nasty look, but it’s okay. The salespeople at the local sporting goods store loved it when I purchased their entire stock of wool beanies.

This has been a season of discovery for me. I discovered mature women should never ever attempt to wear wool beanies, if they don’t want to be directed to the Salvation Army shelter.

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Even Dogs Don’t Like Trump

Many of the past presidents had dogs. The Obama’s had Bo, Bush 2 had Barney and Bush 1’s Millie wrote a book. Who can forget LBJ’s beagles? Even that nasty Nixon had Checkers (the dog died before Nixon became President and was spared any association with Watergate.) The Kennedys dog, Pushinka was a gift from Premier Khrushchev.

Why the doesn’t the current occupant of the oval office have a dog? This is an American tradition.

The other curious thing is that no one ever writes about Trump enjoying quality time with his near and dear. You’d think Fox and Friends would be all over that. (Given his history, there may be a good reason for not publicizing those he considers near and dear.)

Aside from photos of him and a stony-faced Melania with clenched jaw and angry eyes, there is no hint of any sort of connection. You never read about Kennedy-type picnics and touch football games or photo ops like Obama with his girls at a bookstore.

Maybe his family doesn’t like him either. Could it be he is the male counterpart of “Mommy Dearest” or perhaps the Trump dynasty is more like the “Running with Scissors” family.

Unlike his predecessors, Trump does not have a dog.

One cannot say with any degree of certainty that Trump doesn’t like dogs; I’m betting dogs don’t like him.

If you want to know the true character of an individual, put a dog in the room with that person. Dogs have higher standards than many humans and refuse to have anything to do with flawed individuals. There is no greater endorsement of personal character than the devotion of a dog.

We have some clues about what Trump may have given Putin, but why did Putin not follow the tradition of Premier Khrushchev and present the Donald with a dog?

I wonder if anyone on Mueller’s investigative team has considered putting a dog in the room with Trump.

Mary Margaret

Written by Mary Margaret

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Women and Deathbed Declarations

Women who make deathbed declarations of their failure to reach their potential have been in the news lately. Is this a last-ditch effort to vent, cast guilt on a spouse, or a warning to their daughters? Suppressing their goals/ambitions for those of their husband seems to be a common thread.

As mother’s birthday of January 15th neared, I reflected on her legacy and the parallel of these women and their stories. There was none. I am grateful.

No one could ever accuse mother of being subservient to anyone.

She was opinionated, over the top and quite vocal about not being “any man’s slave.” A study in illogicality; a housewife who elevated the domestic arts to an impossibly high standard and later a working mom.

Political correctness was never a problem for her, but her failure to adhere to it was a burden for me. Drama and chaos followed her like her Estee Lauder Youth Dew perfume.

Confronting her male supervisors at work about inequality came easily to her. Most of the time she won her issue, possibly in part because they wanted to escape.

This was during the fifties and I was in high school struggling through home economics, a required subject for girls. (Boys got to take woodwork which I would have preferred.) I hated the class; my home’s role model did not reflect the values of that time, i.e. making sure hubby was happy, blah, blah, blah. And, when it came to cooking, mother was a far superior cook to the textbook sawdust recipes we were supposed to re-create in class.

Much later, as life events unfolded, it became evident that home economics class propaganda missed the mark, but mother was spot on. Her opposition to submission instilled in me a resilience when I would need it most.

If Mother had deathbed declarations, she kept them to herself.

Some of her escapades, we laugh about, and others; we give her a “Bless her heart” pass.

Life for a woman during an era and in a region where feminism did not yet have a name had to be frustrating for someone like my mother. For those who believe the pink pussy hats are too much; well, you didn’t know my mother.

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The Likability Factor is Male Imposed Criteria That Needs to Cease

Please explain to me how likability influences political choices. This question seems to arise only when it is a woman who is considering running for political office.

I wonder if a female version of Trump, who had the same personal behavior/history and competence, could garner the same measure of devotion by the MAGA crowd. I’m thinking probably not. (At the moment, aside from Roseanne Barr, I can’t think of a female public figure who shares the same qualities/abilities as Trump.)

Here we are in 2019, contemplating possible candidates for the 2020 presidential election and if the candidate is a woman, the first question posed “Is she likable?”

Why is the emphasis on being likable?  When a woman announces she is running for public office, the focus is not on qualifications and experience, but her likability.  In the last presidential election, Hillary Clinton, plagued by the likability factor, was savaged by her use of the word, “deplorable.” Judging from clips of Trump rallies, she was spot on. Even worse, Trump basked in the admiration of those who carried the banner for his low standards.

Would a female candidate for the supreme court who displayed the same angry, hysterical, red-faced, tearful temperament as Justice Kavanaugh, been confirmed? Not a chance.

We elected a male television personality, despite his record of a flawed value system and appalling personal behavior, and rejected a highly qualified woman because she was not considered “likable.”

If there is an experienced, qualified female candidate for the next presidential election, I hope the next journalist or television newscaster who utters the “L” word, has to ghostwrite Trump’s next book, “The Art of Screwing Over an Entire Country.

These are Mary Margaret’s thoughts

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