no_hypocrisy
no_hypocrisy's JournalI take great offense at the term "childless unmarried cat ladies".
My BFF from college was literally a childless unmarried cat lady. A once brilliant mind who was a stockbroker, successful at almost everything she did. A wit.
She lived alone and loved it. She collected cool things to put around her house. An impressive library. Never missed an issue of The New Yorker.
And unfortunately, about two years ago, her sisters and I noticed little changes in her personality. She wasn't herself but we couldn't put our fingers on what was wrong. She was unemployed and wasn't in a hurry to get a new job. She was distracted. She repeated anecdotes several times, often about her four cats.
And she drank, which didn't help things. Her bills went unpaid including municipal property taxes. Her entire apartment was awash with papers. (Think Collyer Brothers.) She accused her sisters of breaking into her house and stealing things either she couldn't find or hid and forget where she put them.
The last straw came when she made an illegal left turn at a red light across four lanes of highway traffic. The police officer asked her for a reason for her choice. She answered that she had hungry cats waiting for her at home. And she was serious.
Her sisters coalesced and brought her to live with one of them. The cats went to another sister. My friend now has a 24/7 aide living with her as she tends to wander off if not watched. I can't talk to her as her memory is shot. She watches television but doesn't watch it. Her sisters are looking into an assisted living facility for her.
My friend is fortunate to have compassionate sisters. But every time I hear about childless unmarried cat ladies, I am tinged with anger. My friend didn't ask for this phase of her life. I'm certain that in the beginning, she did have moments where she realized what was happening and it scared the shit out of her.
Her grandmother had Alzheimer's and maybe this is hereditary. I have been restrained in asking her sisters if there has been a diagnosis yet.
And while I "miss" her, I know she faces greater challenges in the future.
They Forced Me To Marry This Man At 19
Raised in a Haredi Jewish community, Fraidy Reiss was arranged to be married to a man she had known for three months when she was just 19 years old. Her former husband displayed numerous alarming behaviors, including threats to her life and violence.
Through unwavering courage and sheer determination, she managed to get out of her toxic forced marriage. She now leads a survivor-led nonprofit organization called "Unchained At Last", dedicated to eradicating forced and child marriages within the United States.
On Edit: My father's mother was forced to marry my grandfather in 1904. Her brother sold her into marriage. My father's father had been engaged to another woman for more than 3-1/2 years and jilted her, making her damaged goods and ineligible for future prospects in marriage. My aunt was born 9 months later, the product of marital rape. Because that's how they did it in "The Old Country" notwithstanding they had been in the U.S. for more than 20 years.
Unchained At Last Organization
https://www.unchainedatlast.org/
IMO, this is what caught Trump's campaign off guard.
I believe they thought if Joe Biden stepped down, it would be due to a "failing" such as health, mental health, and/or dispiritedness. And they could add that to their campaign, Joe's weakness.
But instead, Joe Biden did step down, but for a higher calling, The Country. A selfless act in the spirit of patriotism.
Trump and his MAGA minions for years have tried to portray themselves as the "true Americans" and "patriots" while Democrats were traitors and the destruction of democracy.
And they are bewildered. Why would anyone give up that power if they didn't have to? (In their eyes, to save the country would not be a valid option.) They don't understand empathy, sympathy, benevolence, answering to a higher call. They just don't get it. And they can't respond. That's why Stephen Miller was crying; it was out of confusion and frustration. And it's not just Stephen Miller.
How do you criticize the equivalent of a saint?
Silencing the liberal voice in Media.
Midnight, Friday, August 31, 2001, NYC liberal/progressive radio station, WEVD went off the air.
WEVD was founded in 1927 to honor Eugene V. Debs, the Socialist candidate for President. Originally a station that broadcast in several languages, e.g., Yiddish, Polish, etc. to give new immigrants access to the world around them.
The signal reached all five boroughs of New York City, northern New Jersey, Long Island, Westchester County.
By 1998, WEVD had several hosts who had liberal leanings and took listeners calling in. A lot of them were elderly folks who otherwise had no voice. They remembered the New Deal and the Great Society. The hosts discussed issues that were otherwise ignored by radio, television, cable, and newspaper entities. Local, Regional, State, and National. The station unabashedly called itself "Progressive Radio, 1050, WEVD".
Renowned columnists regularly appeared on various shows: Joe Conason, Gene Lyons, Sidney Zion, Wayne Barrett, Pete Hamill, Lars Erik Nelson, Michael Tomasky, Michael Isakoff, and more. None of these writers appeared on any other station. And politicians also made themselves available to the hosts. Authors came on shows to explain their new books. It was truly a rare moment in radio history.
And the station made money from its success.
Broadcast hours were generally M-F from 5:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. The other hours were filled with paid programs.
Example of topics discussed: Contract For America, Newt Gingrich, Tom DeLay, James A. Traficant Jr., Dick Armey, Jack Abramoff, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Rudy Giuliani, and more. Indepth analysis of government.
In 2001, WEVD was owned by the Jewish Forward. And without warning, the Forward announced that it was selling the station outright, the call sign, the frequency, everything. And selling it to the Disney Corporation, which had no intention of maintaining the format. To the contrary, 1050 would be the flagship station for the radio representation of sports, ESPN.
NYC was losing its ONLY commercial, non-conservative radio station, effective August 31, 2001. By this time, WABC had stopped hosting both liberal and conservative formats and WWOR had gone conservative as well. While NYC still had Pacifica WBAI and New York Public Radio, a station dedicated to bringing news, facts, and analysis like WEVD was lost.
On August 31, 2001, the last day of broadcasting, it was stunning. The long line of listeners to call in was heart-breaking. Some expressed grief, distress, disbelief. Others expressed their well wishes to the hosts. Others called just to say, "I'm calling now while there's still 'Radio Free America'". Even Robert Merrill, the famous Baritone, called in to say "goodbye" to host Bill Mazer.
Less than two weeks later, 9/11 happened. And our radio community was isolated. To make matters even more grim, WEVD's frequency of 1050 was simulcasting WABC's coverage of the crisis, with no less than Curtis Sliwa.
I maintained at the time, this wasn't solely a "business decision", that rather, it was a choice to silence the station. Up until 2001, The Forward wasn't putting WEVD up for sale. Like I said, the station was making money. But a corporation offered it more money to sell.
Knowing its imminent demise, I taped the last two weeks (including its last minutes on air) of WEVD. Alan Colmes, no less, bid farewell.
Since 2001, there were short-lived attempts to make another progressive/liberal/non-conservative station work in NYC. There was WLIB and WWRL, both of which hosted "Air America".
And I'm not kidding myself. If Trump gets in, the FCC will go after WBAI/Pacifica and de-fund public radio.
As the saying goes, I've seen this movie before.
You don't give up when it looks hopeless.
ON EDIT: This is to address those who are ready to abandon Joe Biden needlessly. They are afraid of losing the Election. Nothing is hopeless.Personal Story.
I was legally representing an indigent woman with a colleague pro bono (for free). We inherited the case from our colleague who died of brain cancer.
Her situation was not promising to say the least. She had five children ages 4 to 9. Child Protection removed them and gave them to a foster family.
And the foster family decided they wanted to adopt all of them immediately before we even got to court. And Child Protection thought this case would be beneficial to their interests. First, the caseworker would get $8,000 per child (that's $40,000) if the kids were adopted. Second, Child Protection is perpetually trying to prevent the State from cutting their budget for the next year. This situation would be golden for them and for the State. Saving young children from abuse and neglect from their parents -- and getting them adopted into a stereotypical upper middle class household.
Our client was a victim of domestic violence and abuse. Her husband was such a religious fanatic that he'd make Steve Bannon look like an atheist. His mission was to keep her pregnant and taking care of his children.
And Child Protection did everything to ensure that our client would not be reunited with her children, i.e., removed from foster care and returned to their mother. Our client needed therapy and counseling for domestic abuse and CP didn't even offer her seminars, etc.
WE had to do all the work. We helped her get a divorce, get job training with certification, got her to live with her supportive mother, and hired an expert witness who was the best trained in domestic violence.
This went on for 3-1/2 years. Our client could only see her children for two hours every other week. She was forbidden to bring them candy, cakes, cookies, etc. Obviously there was some alienation that took place over this period of time.
We went to court. And the judge had a hard time deciding whether our client truly abused/neglected the children. But he wanted to play it safe, and recommended termination of parental rights. We were unsettled, but continued by appealing the decision. We lost again.
Finally, the last chance: the guardianship hearing where there was a decent chance that the judge would permanently remove the children from our client, allowing for adoption. And it really didn't look good. The court appointed a psychologist to evaluate whether the children could return to their mother after 3-1/2 years apart. This "doctor" had the children write "Valentine's Day" notes to their mother, which would be given to her, right before her court-appointed evaluation with the children took place. One note stated, "Dear Mom, I demand to be adopted." As you can imagine, the interview went as well as Joe Biden's debate 10 days ago.
I spent one hour trying to calm our client down and another hour to calm myself down.
But my colleague and I hung in there. We wrote briefs to motions. We stayed in the office until 4:00 in the morning, only to return in less than three hours to fax a responding brief that was received in the interval.
We were admittedly rookies, the first time we EVER did a child protection defense case. We did hours of research and poured over four crowded cardboard boxes of evidence. And Child Protection sent its top prosecuting attorney in the state to ensure they would get the children. David v Goliath.
We had no idea how the guardianship judge was going to rule. He had cryptically asked for all children to wait at Child Protection a few blocks away from the courthouse while we waited for his decision.
And he returned the children to our client, their mother.
That was back in 2012. Our client is doing her best to raise the children, the majority now in their adult years.
And my point: no other law firm wanted this case. Even legal defense found it confusing and had poor representation. Every indication showed we were going to lose. The children would be adopted; their birth certificates would be altered to erase the name of their birth mother and replaced with the foster/adoptive parents. But it didn't happen.
You don't give up. Forget how hopeless the outcome will be. Don't give up.
I was raised in a family that was upper middle class.
My father belonged to a very exclusive country club. We ate steak regularly with occasional lobster. My parents drove Cadillacs, Jaguars, and Lincoln Continentals. We lived in a big house. We went out to eat at restaurants a lot with no limit. My parents owned not one, but TWO houses in The Hamptons. Admittedly, it was good.
However, by the time I was a teen, I took a long, hard look at our lifestyle, particularly MY lifestyle. I understood that this situation might (or likely would) be temporary and I'd have to make it on my own and that didn't necessarily mean a big house, steak/lobster, country clubs, etc. Unless I chose to marry a man of impressive means.
And that smacked of legal prostitution. Don't get me wrong. My sister had her radar up for such a husband and she got one. A lot of my HS classmates chose a similar path of security-on-steroids.
I've made it so far using my wits, my choices, my pragmaticism, and my limited means. I'm proud of it.
BTW, all of us (siblings and myself) were disinherited by our father. (He had an estate worth $1.5 million.) My sister got a $40,000 wedding and I got three degrees (BA, MA, and JD). I suppose this represents getting an advancement on the inheritance.
I've used every single one of the 40 items on the OP list. And trust me, I'm not suffering. To the contrary, I'm thriving.
"I have to go upstairs to take care of The Afghanistan."
When Trump cut short his interview with the author of Apprentice In Wonderland, he "excused" himself to leave by claiming he had to deal with Afghanistan. Trouble is that he was out of office, no longer the President, and was a private citizen when he said it.
I'm not saying his situation is the same, but I see some parallels in my personal experience.
I have a dear friend from college, age 67. Over the past years, she has suffered a declining memory and cognitive skills. (She used to be quite the wit.) Her family had to move her out of her apartment and into their family's home.
And here's my point. She talks like Trump. I'll be visiting her on a Sunday afternoon, and she'll cut the visit short by claiming that she has to return to sorting through her papers and documents, none of which are in her quarter. Another situation: She made an illegal left turn across two lanes of a major highway with a red light. The officer asked her why she did it. Her answer: She had to hurry to get home because she had very hungry cats. And she was sincere.
All she has is a bed in a bedroom, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a place to watch cable TV. She is oblivious to what's going on around her. She still has some memories of the past. And were it not for her full-time aide, she would have walked one mile to her childhood home, believing her family still lives there. It's disconcerting and unsettling: my friend is a shell of her former self. At times, she's a stranger to me. She can't make decisions on her own behalf.
Don't get me wrong. My friend is still articulate and can follow a simple conversation. But it's like she's lost and searching at other times.
I see similarities between Trump and my friend. Her sister has Power of Attorney as my friend cannot legally sign her tax returns. She no longer has her car and apartment. Her sister supervises her medical care. (The doctors are not certain if it's dementia, Alzheimer's, chemo brain, or a combination.) Trump has no business returning to the WH where his decisions will not only affect my life and your life, but possibly the survival of the world.
I recently realized why I want quiet and to be left alone when I come home
from work.
I work as a part-time cashier. Usually 7 hours four days a week, in 2-3 hour increments.
It's mentally taxing. I just take it for granted but it does wear me out.
Imagine this: processing a customer's order maybe every five minutes without a pause. It's customercustomercustomercustomercustomercustomercustomer, etc.
And processing the order means digital entry for four-digit UPC (Uniform Produce Codes) of more than 125 fruits, vegetables, and herbs -- all memorized.
And the bulk of the orders is produce.
That means I'm constantly remembering the codes and entering them correctly. Pineapple, cucumber, chives, avocados, three different potatoes, four different tomatoes, 12 different apples. You get the idea.
My brain is working without a pause.
So when I come home, I need to decompress for at least two hours. I love my friends, but I can't bear to send e-mails, or call them, or text them. I want to be left alone.
I really like my job. I like most of the customers. But I've never had a job so mentally taxing.
Education for Women
I consider my own life. I entered Sweet Briar College in the fall of 1975. One of the last small independent women's colleges. My mother was a graduate of both Barnard and Wellsley.
I'm convinced my mother surreptitiously convinced my father that's where I should attend college. She argued that I could find a decent husband at such a school. I'd have an educational background that would make me marriage material. Plus, it was 1975 and all-male institutions like Princeton and the like were slowly -- and reluctantly -- starting to admit women. The odds would be against me versus an all-women's college.
Of course, Mom didn't believe the marriage market theme she was advocating. Having a BA and an MS from two women's colleges, she understood that I would be the beneficiary of small classes, a variety of disciplines found in liberal arts (e.g., ancient and modern languages, literature, history, economics, music, art, theater, dance, science, philosophy, etc.) Another advantage would be to learn to speak up in class as men would not be there to comment, intimidate, etc. * Leadership skills would be inherent in our classes. And I would learn critical thinking skills.
I took courses indiscriminately, i.e., without a thought of a career. Learning for the sake of learning.
I never married. (Take THAT, Dad!)
I've had a variety of employment due to my ability to learn quickly.
I've had a good life and I give my due to Sweet Briar College. I've decided all major choices without compromise.
My father quickly realized my need to be independent and autonomous and he didn't like it a bit. We had a blow-up the night before I graduated. And you know what I did? I put on a backpack and traveled throughout the UK and Europe by myself that summer.
I re-emphasize: Education, especially for women, allows you a completely different destiny (excuse the alliteration) than if you had married right after high school (if you got that far) and started a family.
Scientia est potentia.
Knowledge is power.
* I graduated from New York Law School. As opposed to support of the class when I spoke up at Sweet Briar, instead, I got catcalls, male "Oooooooo" responses, etc. from prospective attorneys. I was spared that for four years at college.
There are people who have dogs as possessions, and then there are people
who are truly emotionally attached to their woofies.
The former have a dog for company, but ignore them and neglect them. My father was one of those. When I was a child, he got an Alaskan Malamute. But never took responsibility for her. Didn't walk her. My mother wouldn't let the dog in the house, so instead of finding another home for the puppy, my father had a literal cage built outside for her. Cement floor, a dog house, wire and wood walls. He fed her by tossing the contents of canned dog food from the opened door. She was out there by herself, ignored. All the seasons. Hot summers, snowy winters. Rain in all temperatures, leaving her fur soaked. Didn't brush her shedding fur, which there was a lot of. We could hear her howl. Never taken for a walk. Her urine and excrement were hosed to the sides of the cage. The stench was unimaginable. For more than 5 years, she was imprisoned. I was relieved when someone offered to adopt her.
Towards the end of his life, my father did it again with a lapdog. Didn't train her. She urinated and defecated all over the house, including two of my mother's expensive Persian rugs. He left the dried shit on the floor. Yelled at me when I bent down to remove it. Had a neighbor walk the dog, but she held it in until she was inside. My father fed her "people food" which didn't help with the digestive tract. In the summer, he took her with him in his car. And left her there. I mean when the car temperature was over 110 degrees. Finally, someone called the Police on him and he actually argued with the officer.
This sounds terrible, but fortunately my father died before he killed the dog.
My point is he had no business having a dog, period. Neither did Kristi Noem.
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