Tag Archive | Hillary Clinton

I’ve got the Stupid America blues

Once again this November, I signed up for NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, with the goal of writing 50,000 words, though this year I’m working not on a novel, but on a nonfiction book about creativity and the shadow side. I got off to a good start, but in the past three days, as Paul McCartney sang in “Yesterday,” there’s a shadow hanging over me, and I’m finding it hard to focus on anything but my post-election blues and anger.

bailey-mountain-fish-game-clubOn election day, after voting at the Bailey Mountain Fish & Game Club on a gorgeously sunny fall morning, I decided to stock up for a long night of election viewing, so I headed for the Hannaford supermarket, where I bought a wedge of Brie (my favorite cheap brand, President), a big bag of Ruffles chips and a tub of Helluva Good bacon and horseradish dip (my favorite pig-out indulgence). Then I stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of Kahlua. I already had Polish potato vodka, and I thought Black Russians would be an appropriate drink for celebrating, not because of any possible Trump-Putin connection, but because I find them yummy.

Hillary & Kate McKinnon SNL

Hillary Clinton as bartender to Kate McKinnon’s “Hillary” on Saturday Night Live

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David Muir

At precisely 6:30pm Eastern Standard Time, I tuned in to ABC news to watch David Muir (my favorite news anchor—I think he’s sexy, and besides, he’s from upstate New York.) I was feeling buoyantly optimistic, sure that Hillary had the election in the bag and would lock in a win well before midnight. We all know how that went, so I won’t rehash it here. To my credit, I didn’t get drunk. I didn’t even pig out on the chips and dip—I was feeling too nauseated as I watched the states turn inexorably from white to red—but I finished them off for yesterday’s lunch, because in the bleakness of the morning after, healthy eating was the least of my concerns.

I’ve been preoccupied with the election for months, as you can see by scrolling down to my older posts, but I’d looked forward to putting all that happily in the past. No such luck—I’m still feeling down in the dumps. More than that, I’m angry, terrified, and above all, disgusted with all the Americans who enabled Trump to win, either by voting for him or, quite possibly, by sitting it out because of indifference or hatred for Hillary.

In the op ed piece the Times Union ran in June, I suggested that Hillary Clinton might be too smart for her own good. I posted it here on June 29, and rereading it just now, I’m struck by how right I was. Scroll down and read it for yourself. After this election, I’m more convinced than ever that much of this country is consumed by genuine hatred and suspicion of intelligence, and especially intelligence in women. Throughout the campaign, the media made much of Trump’s misogyny, his contempt and lack of respect for women. But the focus was on women’s physical attributes—how high they’d score on his fuckability scale. The deeper issue is the fear of women’s intelligence, the terror that they might actually crash through the glass ceiling, as symbolized by that glass roof at the Javits Center they booked for the Clinton victory celebration that never happened.

Zephyr Teachout with megaphone.jpgThe hatred of smart women came through vividly in the TV attack ads against Zephyr Teachout, a liberal Democrat who ran for congress in upstate New York. She’s a law professor at Fordham, and many of the Republican-sponsored ads trumpeted the word “Professor” as though it were the most disgusting of dirty words. Needless to say, she lost.

So yes, I’m bitter. The media attacked Hillary for her off-the-cuff “basket of deplorables” comment about Trump supporters, a comment she made when she’d been diagnosed with pneumonia but was soldiering on regardless of sickness and exhaustion. But she’s right—there are millions of deplorables in this country, and their ignorant support of Trump may well plunge the nation into years of conflict and misery.

This afternoon ABC preempted General Hospital for a live broadcast of Trump mending fences with Paul Ryan, which ratcheted up my anger even more. With Trump and the Republicans controlling the presidency and the congress, and the control they’ll be hold over Supreme Court appointments, this country is on the brink of plunging into an enormous sink hole. The Affordable Care Act will be the first to go, and millions of Americans will lose their health insurance. Next they’ll probably try to overturn Roe v. Wade, and women will lose their reproductive rights. The rich will get richer, while the poor have their safety net ripped away a bit at a time.

Ironically, it will be the very people who voted for Trump—the less educated, the unemployed, the millions who feel cut off from the American Dream—who will suffer the most. With time, I may come to feel sorry for them, but I will never, ever forgive them.

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Bailey Mountain Fish & Game Club

Trump: Headed for bipolar meltdown?

trump-new-yorker-cover-10_10_16-400I’m thrilled that the Times Union in Albany ran my opinion piece on Donald Trump in today’s paper. When I wrote last week that I thought he might be heading for a bipolar diagnosis, I knew I was going out on a limb, but the events of the past few days have made me more certain than ever that I may very well be right.

If you haven’t read it yet, here’s the link to the article:

http://www.timesunion.com/tuplus-opinion/article/Trump-on-the-verge-of-bipolar-9958577.php

Trump’s obsessive tweeting in the wee hours of the morning about the former Miss Universe and her weight issues was what first got me pondering a possible diagnosis of bipolar disorder, because the behavior reminded me so much of my own escalation into a first full-blown episode of mania a couple of decades ago. I won’t rehash the article here, though I’ll post it in full a couple of days from now.

I missed last graham-nash-2015night’s Trump vs. Clinton debate, because I was busy ushering for a marvelous concert by Graham Nash—of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young fame—at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall. It was a far more inspiring and uplifting way to spend a couple of hours, to be sure, but once I came home and heard my husband’s descriptions of the debate, then went to the Internet and watched some clips, I learned all about the thuggish stalking behavior Trump exhibited while Hillary was speaking, behavior many have described as frighteningly offensive.

Before becoming founder and President of ElderSource, Inc., the Licensed Home Care Services Agency I described in my article, I worked for 13 years as a creative arts therapist at Hudson River Psychiatric Center in Poughkeepsie, a state mental hospital of the old-school variety that have long since been closed by supposedly well-meaning bureaucrats. There I worked on locked admissions wards as well as wards for the most seriously disturbed and often violent patients—the kinds of patients who are now more likely to be housed in prisons.

Among them were many who were diagnosed bipolar. They weren’t locked up because of their often fascinating delusions and grandiosity, but because psychiatrists had determined that they were a danger to themselves or others. In other words, they were either suicidal or violent. I’ll force myself to watch the debate in its entirety later tonight, but Trump’s body language, and especially his pacing around the confined space like a caged predator in a zoo, looming threateningly close to Clinton, suggests a psychological and physical state dangerously close to the edge. I can only hope he has his total meltdown before election day, and before his verbal  threats escalate to physical violence.

trump-cartoonThere’s much more I could say on this topic, but for now I’ll take a break to address my readers, both new and old. The Times Union published the link for this blog, so I’m hoping that will lure people who may not have visited before. If you’re a newbie, please click on the link in the column to the right and subscribe to my blog so that you’ll be notified of new posts. I promise you won’t be deluged with emails, because I post a maximum of two or three times a week.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00071]In that same column, you’ll find a list of categories. Click on Bipolar Mood Swings, and you’ll find lots of posts that touch on bipolar disorder, in both its manic and depressive aspects. And check out my novel Mood Swing: The Bipolar Murders, which is inspired by my own experiences with bipolar disorder, as a professional, an advocate and a consumer.

Lastly, please leave comments and spread the news about this blog to your friends. Thanks!

Hope Dawns Eternal makes The New York Times!

I’ve always been in awe of The New York Times, so it was thrilling to be interviewed by a Times reporter last Tuesday on New York’s primary day, and even more thrilling to find myself quoted in the next morning’s edition, and to discover that the reporter, Jesse McKinley, topped off his story with the title of my vampire soap opera novel, Hope Dawns Eternal. Here’s the poem I wrote to commemorate the occasion.

Hope Dawns in a Grungy Gun Club

Hope Dawns Eternal!

The New York Times, that great gray lady, gave me the last words

In the story “Voting at a Gun Club,”

Filed before the presidential primary was even over.

Inside, I’d traipsed the length of the grubby gray cinder-block building

At the Bailey Mountain Fish and Game Club,

Passed the yellowed illustrations of assorted guns,

Taped to the cheap pine paneled walls.

Passed the mounted deer heads, the sample ballots on collapsible tables,

Faced the row of portly aging men

Who smirked as I declared my party and signed the Democratic ledger.

They told me to remove the Women for Hillary button

Pinned to my dusty rose Old Navy fleece—no electioneering allowed

In this Inner Sanctum of democracy.

I blackened my chosen circles, fed my ballot into

The silvery maw of the machine,

Nostalgic for the heavy curtains, the leaden click of levers

Pushed down to reveal the red x’s of my choice.

 

When it was over, out in the sunlit clearing in the woods,

A blond young man in casual sports attire, reporter’s pad in hand,

Approached and asked if I could spare the time to talk.

Over his shoulder, a photographer snapped away

As I stumbled over half-baked opinions,

While my inner critic cursed my lack of originality,

Stringy hair and nearly nonexistent makeup.

 

When the questions wound down, I asked what paper he was with,

Thinking Schenectady or maybe Troy.

The New York Times, he said, in a near-apologetic mumble

Like the one I use when I say I’ve gone to Harvard and Columbia.

I told him of my father, managing editor of The Milwaukee Journal

Back in the fifties heyday of McCarthyism. He was suitably impressed.

Almost as an afterthought, I told him I was a novelist,

Rummaged in my purse, handed him a postcard for Hope Dawns Eternal,

My vampire soap opera novel.

 

That night I binged on TV primary returns, rejoiced for Hillary.

Woke Wednesday morning, guardedly hopeful,

But dubious I’d made the cut. He’d no doubt talked to lots of people,

And I’d said nothing especially quote-worthy,

Let alone worthy of The New York Times.

My ever tech-savvy husband grabbed his cell,

Googled my name and news, and said, “You made it.”

I commandeered the phone, scrolled down,

And there I was at the very end of the article,

Sounding surprisingly articulate.

When I reached the last lines, I shrieked:

“An amateur novelist, she pressed a pamphlet

For her vampire novel into a reporter’s hand.

Its title: Hope Dawns Eternal.”

 

He chose it as a closing metaphor, I’m sure,

But to me, such synchronicity feels like a blessing.

I’m not big on higher powers,

But maybe something somewhere is looking out for me

And success is in the stars.

Of course I’ll have to work my butt off,

But I can legitimately say,

“As featured in The New York Times.”

My parents, with their lost, unpublished novels,

Would be proud.

I premiered the poem yesterday at my women writers group and last night at POETS SPEAK LOUD, a monthly open mic at McGeary’s Tavern in Albany, where I was featured poet. I got a warm reception both times, and I hope you’ll enjoy it too, regardless of your political persuasion.

Here’s a direct link to the New York Times article:

http://www.nytimes.com/live/new-york-primary-2016/at-a-gun-club/

 

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