Robin Williams on politics

Get ready for a laugh!

Did my time in the California Conservation Corps

I was 18 years old in 1979, and had been raised in a homogenous suburb of San Francisco called Castro Valley. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. I had started Junior College and that brought forth no answers either. What I needed was a major change---something that would get me out of my parent’s house and be an adventure too.

Someone had told me about the California Conservation Corps, a program run by the State of California for young adults age 18-23. They were planting trees, working in the forests and mountains, and making a difference in the community---this definitely appealed to the romantic sensibilities of an 18-year-old girl. I imagined meeting young men with long dark hair and closely trimmed beards that would appreciate a girl who was scented with patchouli oil, wore Birkenstocks, and listened to Dan Fogelberg and CSNY.

I went to the State of California employment offices where I applied and was accepted. They requested a 1-year commitment, though this was a contract that could be broken if need be. I was instructed to buy 2 pairs of brown Lee jeans and a pair of work boots---they would provide the khaki colored shirts with CCC patches and the hats that I would wear.

“Basic Training” was a 3-week induction into the CCC. I arrived in Angel’s Camp with my new uniforms, my bottle of patchouli oil, and with hopes of meeting other like-minded young men and women to bond with.

I became aware fairly quickly that the C.C.C. wasn’t what I had imagined it to be. The girls who I had already encountered in my barracks weren’t very friendly---they seemed hard-edged---much more street-wise than me. I was already feeling out of place here.

These girls had a mission, and it was to make this my life as miserable as possible. They had begun to harass me, threw away my patchouli oil and short-sheeted my bed.

My anxiety was rising, but I knew that once I was transferred to San Luis Obispo, that everything would change. I would be able to bring all of my personal items---my guitar and records and clothes for leisure time. I would have to leave my Golden Retriever at home though---a fact that grieved me terribly.

I got through this mini boot camp and headed for SLO. We had shared cabins here, so there would be more privacy and perhaps more tolerance for individuality.

I began to meet people and started working on some of the projects assigned me. The projects weren’t that bad---I wasn’t planting trees, but we were doing some work in the community, and we even assisted with mop up work at some wild fires in the area.

My disappointment---what made this the worst job ever---was that in my naiveté I didn’t understand that a lot of the kids who had joined the CCC were actually from the “streets”. Some had been diverted from the legal system, some had terrible family problems, some were just looking for a place to escape to---like me I guess.

My cabin roommate seemed friendly enough. I even brought her home to my mom’s house for a weekend to hang out. She was from Merced or Modesto or somewhere like that, and it seemed like we could get along---that was until her boyfriend accused me of giving her Valium---I don’t know where she copped the V. --well, the guy actually threatened to kill me.

I felt helpless and ill equipped to understand the culture that I had landed in, or the hostility directed toward me. I was a nice person, always friendly and open. I just didn’t get it, and I was getting scared.

There was a pregnant girl at this camp. She had a boyfriend who claimed to be the nephew of John Forsythe, the actor of Dynasty fame. I had made the mistake of getting a little too close to said Dynasty star nephew, not knowing about the pregnant girlfriend of course, and before I knew it I was being threatened in the bathroom by his girlfriend and her pals.

I think that I had a panic attack the next day, and had to be taken to the local emergency room for observation.

I called my mom and cried “uncle”, and the next day she sent my brother-in-law down to pack up my stuff and bring me home.

In my wildest imagination I didn’t think that I would find such cultural diversity, or kids with such varied personal histories. I had seen bullet and knife scars on some of the young men at that camp, and I had never really experienced that kind of “I’m gonna beat your ass” mentality among my peers at home.

I didn’t find Dan Fogelberg or hang out among the redwoods, but I did come home with a little more life experience, which isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Election Night

I can’t believe that the election is over. Well, it’s mostly over. There are still Senate seats to be decided, and as I was driving home from dinner last night, I noticed that the DNC office was still open and staffed 2 weeks after the election. It is hard to let go, since it was such a cathartic experience for so many people. At least I know that it was for me.

I’ve been following the election from the very beginning, and I had initially supported Hillary Clinton. I mean, for a Clinton lover, what would be better than having them back in the White House? The whole notion was intriguing and in some ways, comforting.

But last April, Barack Obama delivered a speech in South Carolina. As my husband and I watched him deliver this stump speech, we both began to cry. It was unbelievable that we were both sitting there with tears streaming down our faces. It was on this night that something changed for me. There was something irrestistable about this man---it was as if he had reached into my psyche---that he knew exactly what I needed to hear.

Over the past 8 years I have felt like I’ve been held prisoner. There was such a feeling of helplessness that I felt every time George Bush turned the screws a little tighter, and dug a hole so deep that no one was likely to easily climb out of.

My God---did Obama just throw America a rope?

His message of hope and change became something very personal for me. As I witnessed the campaign via 24-hour news, I became possessive and protective of Obama. I would find myself hollering at the likes of Pat Buchanan and Carly Fiorina, as they tried to tear apart Obama’s character, and to distort his message of hope and promise of change.

It became almost too stressful to me to bear witness to at times. I could barely tolerate watching the debates. I had to leave the room several times as Sarah Palin winked and talked down to America. I lost sleep, I wrote emails to Chris Mathews and Keith Olbermann, I donated hundreds of dollars, and I emailed my family and friends. My anxiety was extremely high, almost uncontrollable.

It was during the last weeks of the campaign that I began to really get in touch with my feelings about the election. It wasn’t just that I had had enough of George Bush and his out of control policies. It wasn’t simply that as a socially liberal Democrat I could no longer bear the idea of religion being hijacked and trademarked by a political party, that God was being used as a pawn and as a means to an end. It wasn’t simply that I was sick and tired of being called unpatriotic and un-American because I disagree with a disastrously failed foreign policy.

I began to understand Obama’s message in a visceral way. Deep in my bones, in my heart and very soul, my wounded child connected with Obama and his remarkable journey toward the Presidency. Over the months I began to feel hopeful about my own life. I began to think that personal change and transformation IS possible, even if the challenges that you’re facing seem insurmountable. He began to symbolize all of my hopes and dreams for my own life. How could I not support this man and embrace his message?

Incredible as it may seem, we were in DC on election night. I had planned this trip months in advance. I love DC. There is so much history there, so many beautiful places to visit, so much power being tossed around. I wanted to be around it, maybe even be a part of it in some small way.

We spent those few days wandering around the city---feeling proud, hopeful and excited. There was a definite vibe everywhere we went. Cab drivers, waitresses, the power brokers having lunch at a restaurant on Capital Hill---everyone was buzzed, some were even giddy.

On election night we went to a restaurant that we had been to on previous visits to the city. The place was packed with Democrats, Republicans, Senate staffers, and various other DC players. It’s interesting how important one begins to feel just hanging around such a diverse group of people. Elbowing up to the bar, starting a conversation with an attorney from the Department of Labor, and finding yourself practically sitting in his lap because you want a piece of something powerful. You want to be in the mix, in the moment---you want to feel like you’re a player too, if only for one evening. So I turned on the charm, I flattered and flaunted, and for a few minutes, I felt like an insider---important and connected.

We left the restaurant before they called the election. I had to be dragged out of there by my husband and our companion. We caught a cab back to the Sofitel, which is about a block from the White House. The hotel bar was jammed with people too, and we stayed there---me with my 4th glass of wine, and we basked in the glow of our impending victory.

It was in this bar, among other visitors from all over the world that we heard the announcement---and we all cheered, feeling utterly relieved, and even disbelief. President-Elect Barack Obama. It has a certain ring to it.

We finally rode the elevator up to the 10th floor, and turned on the news to continue the celebration. After a few minutes, we heard a commotion outside, so I looked out the window down at the street 10 floors below me, and I saw hundreds of people spilling out onto the streets heading toward Pennsylvania Avenue. We immediately grabbed out coats and sped back to the lobby, went outside, and joined the group that was walking toward the White House. We turned the corner, and before us were several thousand people milling around, hooting, hollering and banging pots and pans. There was security and police patrolling about, but there was nothing threatening happening on this night. This night was for celebration and victory. We joined in with the masses, a collective voice of prisoners released from their 8 year captivity, It was all the sweeter knowing that W. was at home that night, and could hear the celebration that was heralding a new age.

We finally returned to the hotel in a bit of a daze. The night of partying and celebrating was about to come to an end for me. After I climbed into bed, I turned to my husband and whispered, “I still don’t believe it”, and I cried myself to sleep filled with the hope that I had clung to so tightly throughout the campaign.

May I call you Sarah? By Toni Maita

I had to steel myself before I was able to watch the V.P. debate last night. I knew what to expect, and I knew that I would be angry and offended before the evening was over. I must say that Sarah Palin did not disappoint me.

May I call you Sarah? (wink)

Sarah, you were completely true to form last night. I knew that you wouldn’t make the same truthful blunders that you made with Charlie Gibson and Katie Couric over the past few weeks. Indeed, you were well prepared by the heavy hands of the GOP to grease the American public with your brand of obsequious blathering that only your “base” would be electrified by. As you prattled on about “hockey moms”, “Joe six-pack” (whoever the fuck that is referring to), and “white flags of surrender”, you sunk to a new low when you failed to acknowledge Joe Biden’s thoughtful moment when reflecting on his own personal losses.

Your body language was cartoonish at best, kind of like a Barbie doll on meth. Who advised you to present yourself in such an obviously shallow and ridiculous way? We’re you winking at me Sarah? Don’t wink at me! In that moment I wanted to reach my hand through the TV screen and bitch slap you. You’re more smug and condescending than Dick Cheney, and that’s a major accomplishment, and truly terrifying.

Did I really hear you right, Sarah? Did you say that you wanted to expand the power of the V.P.? Is that what you think that I want to hear? Who advised you to take that position? Have you completely snapped your cap?

I also wondered Sarah, whether you would really answer any of the moderator’s questions. You danced around those questions like a cat on a hot tin roof. May I call you “Maggie the Cat”? (Wink) Clearly you have something to hide Sarah, and it’s little to do with your lack of national experience. You are a rapacious, power-seeking politician, who would lie to me, and to millions of others to suit your own power hungry ego.

Sarah, you do not represent me, my views as a woman, or my views as an American. I happen to believe that you are no maverick (whatever the fuck that really means). I know that the Republican Party has led this country to the depths of despair, vis-à-vis the Iraq war, and to a near financial meltdown of our markets through deregulation and neglect. I happen to know that the policies that would be put forward by the McCain administration would only fuel that flame. You can spew the same lies over and over again about the democrats and their leadership; it doesn’t make it any more true or real. I think that you need a reality check Sarah. (Big wink and smile)

Furthermore, stop injecting “God” into everything Sarah, especially when you’re speaking to a truly national audience. It just makes you look scarier that you really are—or perhaps you really are that scary. Anyone who injects religion into politics has no basic understanding of what it means to be an American. Did you have a “brain-fart” Sarah? Did you know that there are registered voters in the country who are not Christians? Has that ever occurred to you, or any of the other self-righteous fuckers who would blend God with politics, and somehow degrade that into a litmus test for patriotism?

Do you realize that you effectively alienated the large population of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people as you uttered the words “tolerate”? Sarah, what United States of America are you living in? It’s certainly not my USA, and I am ashamed that you would say that you are representing “Americans” on that stage last night.


I really don’t need to remind you of your performances that were broadcast on the nightly news over the past few weeks. Clearly, you were more “you” in those interviews, than you were during last night’s rehearsal for the Miss America pageant. (Head cocked, smug smile and a wink too>)

I used to believe that I could “tolerate” John McCain, should he be elected to the Presidency, but Sarah, you have effectively soured me to any notion that I could ever support John McCain now.

Nice work Sarah. (Wink)

In memory of Flame

Shalimar Dolce's Burning Love CD "Flame"
June 19, 1994 - September 29, 2008

Dear Moo

I can't believe that you're gone. I will never forget the day that we brought you home from Tom and Jocelyn Lewis' house. I held you in my lap as Vaughn drove us home, and I held you up and starting singing, " a dinky dinky dinky, a dinky doo doo". I laughed at smiled and wondered at you, and I always will.

Remember when we tried to show you when you were 6 months old? Ha ha! You really didn't think much about that, and we decided that it really didn't matter about that championship thing. You did go on to earn your CD, and in your own inimitable style, you slayed me. When you were going for your third leg during the sits and downs, you assumed the "frog" position and began wagging that splendiferous tale of yours, and you smiled and beamed for the entire exercise. I thought that I would bust up laughing, but I bit my tongue, and we got that CD! I was so proud of you Moo!

You produced 3 beautiful litters for me, and beside me sits your daughter Leia from CH Ashford's Saffron O'Reilly. Leia went on to produce the grandchildren and her children the great grandchildren still living in my house today. They always paid you all the respect and deference that you deeply deserved. They are your living legacy Moo, your shining stars.

Moo, you were such a comedian, and so good natured. I can't ever remember you ever having to correct anyone in our house, except to bare your teeth at an annoying puppy in your face, and I KNEW that it was all for show, almost comical really. You were sweet and loving beyond words my old Moo. One of the greatest things about you, was that you were so musical. I will always cherish the arias that you sang for us. It cracked me up the way that you would be lying in the kitchen or down the hallway, and suddenly I would hear your singing, or "mooing". I'd come in the room and there you were, laying flat on your belly, tail wagging wide and slow.

It was so hard to let you go today. Until the end, I was really in denial about it. It's so hard to make that kind of choice, but I could finally see it in your eyes, and I knew that if you could talk, you would have said "mama, I feel like crap. I am so sick and tired, and I don't think that I can go on much longer. Don't feel bad mama, because you loved me so good and so completely, and I'll always be watching over you and papa."

Moo moo dog, those were some awesome 14+ years together, and you will always be in my heart, and deeply missed by me and papa Greg.

Love always,

Mama

Keith Olbermann Special Comment

Keith Olbermann is blatantly honest and unapologetic about the exploitation of 9/11 by the GOP at their recent convention.

The Hand of Karl Rove - McCain's VP Pick

This Republican VP selection of Mrs. Palin is straight out of the Karl Rove play book. She's going to be used to go into the bible belt and once again try to divide this country on issues like gay rights and abortion, and sadly, it could work. I find it incomprehensible and terrifying that the citizens of this country may potentially be distracted ONCE AGAIN from the most important issues that we face as a country; health care, the economy, national security and foreign policy, education, and social security---that people will once again divide on issues that have NOTHING TO DO with our strength and solvency as a Nation. It's irresponsible and dangerous.

I also find it astonishing that should McCain win this election, and fall ill and die while in office, that we would be faced with a 40-something year old woman with absolutely no national political experience and no education in the nuances of foreign policy. She stated publically that she has no interest in the Iraq war---that she hasn't even followed it.

It was reported on MS-NBC that John McCain only met her once before he selected her as his V.P. nominee. What kind of vetting process does this suggest? It suggests that they are playing a dangerous game with the American people.

Yes, she's a "hockey mom", a former beauty queen, and has raised 5 kids, the youngest with Down's Syndrome. Well, that's terrific! That's a great American story, but it doesn't qualify her to lead this country.

Also of note, she eats "Buffalo" burgers (now there's a selling point), is a member of the NRA and a hunter, is anti gay rights, and wants to OUTLAW abortion in all 50 states, even in the case of rape or incest. Is this the kind of myopic person that we want running our government?

It's ironic, because people like Pat Buchanan are referring to this woman as a "feminist." Feminist? John McCain doesn't believe that women deserve equal pay for doing the same job that a man does. Feminist? You've got to be kidding me. Holding down a job and raising a family does not make you a feminist.

The McCain campaign is going to try and sell it that they selected Mrs. Palin to try and gain the women's vote. That's spin, and it's a red herring. Democratic women who supported Hillary have NOTHING in common with Sarah Palin, and it makes no sense that these women would suddenly vote for John McCain simply because he put her on his ticket. Do they think that women are really a bunch of morons? Women who supported Hillary are NOT right-wing conservatives.

I for one will not allow them to manipulate me with this Rovain slight of hand. As Barack Obama stated strongly and with complete conviction during his acceptance speech, "ENOUGH!"