Months and months ago, when I was going through the emotional throes of holy crap I think my marriage is over and what the eff am I supposed to do about that, a friend said to me, “Can you please make a decision so you can get back to snarky political commentary? In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s quite a bit going on.”
Whatever. The president said they were all phony scandals, so he must be right or I’m a racist. Pfffttt.
Last fall when I was on the Romney campaign, we weren’t really allowed to tweet. Well, we could but we couldn’t. Sometimes except certain times. Only if it was a good tweet, but not too good. Never on Tuesdays or after dark. Unless there was a debate. In other words, the tweeting policy was clear as mud.
Because nothing says Voter Engagement like reclusiveness.
I finally gave up trying after I was chastised for tweeting, “Lady smarts > lady parts.” Yes, I cried, because I’m a TOTAL PROFESSIONAL. Seriously though, if I couldn’t win with that tweet, then the whole thing just seemed hopeless. I should’ve known right then that we were going to lose.
Anyway, I was talking to Justin, one of my favorite friends in the Boston trenches with me about it, and said that once the campaign was over I wanted to go back to commentary. “I think my first tweet after the campaign shall be, ‘I’m back, bitches.’”
Then he blushed because he’s LDS and doesn’t say the B-word.
Er, um … neither do I. Except sometimes.
Obviously, my cussing policy is very similar to the Romney tweeting policy, which can basically be summed up as: Don’t get caught by the wrong people. Sorry if you’re reading this, Dad.
Of course, it’s been nine months since the campaign ended (nine months!!!), which is not only the correct amount of time to grow a human, but also apparently just about right for getting over a spectacular political loss. Not to mention a bunch of personal crap.
Since then I’ve been plodding along, keeping up with some news, doing some behind-the-scenes freelance writing for some candidates, and doing other very important things like learning how to curl my hair. Yes, I was 30 before I learned how to properly work a curling iron. Stop judging me. Judgey people are only allowed to visit between 2-4 pm on the sixth of never.
A couple of weeks ago I got a message from the lovely Christine, who knew me from being on with Chip and LaDonna once upon a time for the whole Victoria’s Secret hullabaloo. She’s now producing for Rick Amato’s new Internet TV show, and would I like to come on?
Rick and I go way back, like three years or longer! I’ve been on his radio show a handful of times, and we’ve spoken at some of the same Tea Party events.
Would I like to do a media appearance to comment on some current events from a conservative mommy blogger’s perspective? Um, yes.
All that to say … I’m back, bitches.
So I was on a panel yesterday, Token Female Style, to discuss expatriates and gender-bender issues. I’ll post a clip when they get it archived.
Thoughts on Record Expatriatism
There’s this new law that’s killing Swiss bank accounts, because the U.S. is now demanding that all financial institutions report on American citizens’ bank activity — anywhere in the world. You know, so they can be sure to squeeze every last drop of blood out of people’s wallets in the name of taxes.
So people living and working abroad are denouncing their American citizenship in record numbers. The tax rate is capped in Hong Kong at 15 percent.
And liberals scratch their heads at this phenomenon, because paying taxes is supposed to be patriotic.
Meanwhile in California
Jerry Brown signed a law that says all students in public school grade K-12 get to pick their own gender. No really. It’s supposed to combat bullying, because if a little boy wears pigtails and a skirt, the bullying will supposedly stop if he’s allowed to use the girls’ bathroom.
*Insert eye roll here*
Actually, I don’t really care. I don’t have an opinion on raising little Johnny as little Joannie. You don’t tell me how to raise my kids, and I won’t tell you how to raise yours. Just keep ‘em healthy, happy, and reasonably under control in public please.
I think the real issue is going to come into play when Johnny/Joannie is 17 and wants to play basketball on the girls’ team. Boys are naturally better athletes than us women-folk, stuffed bra and close shave aside.
We were also going to talk about Bob Filner, but ran out of time. So I’ll just say he’s an ass. And I voted for Carl DeMaio.
Also I think it’s funny Hooters won’t serve him because he’s too big a boob even for them.
Sometimes the headlines write themselves.