Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Turning 35: And Other Tales of Gruesome Terror



Okay, maybe I'm being melodramatic. But then again, if I wasn't, then I wouldn't be me, right?

*insert theme music from 2001: A Space Odyssey*

So, I sit...drink my bottled water (makes a great chaser for all the valium I need to handle this one), listen to John Coltrane, and try to make sense of what a complete moron I've been today - the past few days, actually; and try to take friend's advice in response to my last post below (yesterday) to heart...after all, it is only a birthday, another year.



As my pal J.S. calmly said to me the other day as I lamented that soon I would be needing a forklift for my breasts and my AARP card, "You either have a birthday, or you die."

I think, dear reader, I'd rather have the birthday when it's put in those terms.

I then protested about all the things that I haven't accomplished (please refer to previous blog entry) and she said, "Well, the grass is always greener when you're not getting ass-fucked on your lawn."

True.
I mean, just because someone else my age has a husband, kids, house, career gig, and lots of money - does not mean that they are happier or have accomplished more. It means they did once what I've done twice; their rubbers were cheaper quality; they've got issues with tight spaces; they have a helluva lot of stress; and they have lots of money (I couldn't find something bad to say about that).



So, I'm in a cab on the way to one of my doctor appointments today, and I'm a wreck. It occurs to me that I'm pre-mensing AND I'm turning 35 tomorrow with a Peter Pan complex (is that a real DSM thing? It should be. I'll be the poster girl) AND since I'm already feeling like I'm cracking up, it has a surreal quality where you're like Oh god - how can it get any worse?...and the radio is on.
Suddenly, a commercial comes on for a new skin cream, Hydroxytone. They're doing the whole pitch, and suddenly I'm thinking it sounds good; sure, get rid of some of those "fine lines" that ain't so fine. Then in the middle of the commercial, a male voice comes on and says, I shit you not, "I used to think she looked good, but now she looks so YOUNG!"

Thankfully, the doctor I was going to see was my shrink, where I could finish sobbing in the privacy of her office.



However, my second appointment found me in another cab (it was just a cab day, what can I say) and the driver, a man named Gregory, was a sweetheart. He asked me how I was doing, and I rubbed my eyes, which were puffy from all of my boo-hooing, and replied, "Not so hot. I'm turning 35 tomorrow and I'm not handling it well at all. I'm a wreck." Fresh tears sprung from my eyes and I sobbed.
He stared at me with a fascination that one saves for tragic car accidents: you don't want to look, but you just have to.

"Honey, you're fine. You're a sexy woman with smooth skin. 35 is nothing...take it from me, girl."

He then proceeded to give me a pep talk for a large part of the trip: talking to me about health, eating habits, drinking water, feeling good about myself, feeling sexy. He turned around in the car as we pulled up to the destination, took my hand, and told me to feel good about myself and not worry about my age. He got out of the car, opened the door for me and I gave him a hug. Then he drove off.

That was awesome therapy in itself. My thank-you goes out to Gregory the Cab Driver for being such a darling. It was a win-win situation for both of us; his free therapy session prevented me from needing tear duct surgery from crying too much or getting blood in his car from performing harakiri in the back seat. It worked out great.

Cousin It Squared

I remember when J.S. turned 32 (she is 6 months older than me) and we were bitching about getting older, and she said, "Well, shit, 32 isn't so bad...S. is turning 35!!"

Ah.
I think once I get in a better head space about my life, and feel more comfortable where I'm at, then numbers won't be that big of an issue...just an extra candle to throw at a friend at my party.

Internet Stalking and etc.

I just had a birthday January 29th. I turned 37. Now, I am a pretty young looking woman. I mean, when I was 25 people thought I was 12. When i was 30 people thought I was 16.
So it's nothing new. I used to get very upset about this, but somewhere in my 30s I started playing along. If some cute guy said,"What are you 22?", I'd smile and say he was so talented with that age guessing thing.
Big deal. It's not like this was a person I was going to marry. The way our culture embraces youth, I started not to want to divulge just exactly how old I was sometimes.
I was really losing interest in the,"Oh MY GOD! You don't look THAT old!" exclamations my age started to bring in.
That's a compliment I take it, but I wasn't thrilled by the 'that old' statement. I didn't actually believe I was older than time.
Anyway, recently I had known a 25 year old woman, Nia. While she knew I was into my thirties, she didn't know how much into. She was discriminatory towards older women, and put down the actresses on "Sex and the City". She claimed no guys would honestly be chasing after them, they are all 'at least a minimum of 36'.
I thought,"Um yeah, bitch, I'm 36 right here." She went on to lament the fact that she was 25 and 'over the hill'.
OK then. A few days before I turned 37 she began to instant message me wishing me a happy birthday, and noting that I was not in fact in my early 30s. She told me to accept the fact that I'm old!
She was continuing to be really rude about it, so I blocked her. Then she signed on another name and sent me a link to a blog post I wrote on this site about how nearing 40 had some physical side effects I was already starting to encounter.
This was her 'proof'. I told her I looked younger than she does, as I do. She responded it was the 50 pounds of makeup coating my bad skin, and the fact that I dressed like a whore.
I am 37! That's right. I look damned young, and I always did. I do not think 40 is old. I think her thinking is old, outdated, narrow minded. She kept asking me how I wasn't miserable not being married or not having children in my thirties.
How about, because I'm comfortable doing my own thing. I am sad I am not comfortable about saying my exact age all the time.

It's my goal this year to get over it. People with nothing better to do than stalk blogs trying to dig up information on me need to get over it, too.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Birthday is Approaching...(T-Minus 2 Days)

...and I'm freaking out. Again.

Those of you who know me long enough know that I do this every year. My Peter Pan complex kicks in and I lose it. The only way to get past it is booze, pills, pot, and a good lay.

Or a really good vampire novel.

But this birthday...is the big 3-5.

Mid-thirties. Hm. Wow. Okay.
Nope. Not buying it. Sorry...

Here's what I thought I'd have/be by this age:
1) A husband
2) At least two kids
3) My own home
4) Some kind of profession in the theatrical/entertainment industry
5) A menagerie of pets
6) Famous on some kind of level...

Here's what I have/have had by this point:
1) I've had TWO husbands. Unfortunately, I just don't have one now.
2) The menagerie of pets have become my kids and I have 4.
3) I rent an apartment that allows my landlord to have me by the shorthairs.
4) I peddle books. Yeah, yeah, I have a great health care package, so whatever, but my entertainment industry stuff is all outside of what I get PAID for.
5) The only thing I'm famous for is in Mississippi for how many bong hits I could do.

Um, did I miss the boat somewhere? This is becoming strangely reminiscent of a Pink Floyd song. I could remember the name of it, if only I wasn't getting so GODDAMN OLD that my memory wasn't going (that and all the meds I'm taking).

Fuck me.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Enough already!

Yesterday was an especially stressful day for me...to the point where I considered marching into our President’s office to quit. Not resign, quit. Tell him “fuck you very much for the chance to work here” and march my ass out the door.

So here I was, totally furious and ready to walk when reality hit me. I have a house and a mortgage and a car payment. There are bills that need to be paid. I can’t quit yet. But it’s coming. Once I have a job that’s not here, that’s it, I’m out.

I'm so tired of doing so much work (like so many others) and not being recognized for it. For the past 4 years I’ve seen people who do shit and who leave at 5pm on the dot get praise and more money. Most of these people are men. The women who work their asses off have to beg for more money .

Though I’m not technically a director or manager, I am considered one. I am required to take part in all management meetings, have a staff of 6 who loosely report to me ~ because of course, as a non-manager I cannot really be their manager ~ and am respected like a director, but definitely not paid like one.

To me, they’ve offered little “carrots” by shifting my roles within the company with no additional monies but lots more work. Why? Because they are “lateral” moves. That’s the difference between a lateral move and a promotion – the money. Both get you the extra work.

I've been seeing it more and more over the years... and realized that no females at here have ever been promoted. It’s time for drastic measures. Guess I should have a sex change. Maybe growing a pair would make a difference.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Race, gender, and the employment status of wastrels

I would be.....and have been....the first to condemn bigotry of any kind, particularly when it comes to employment and education, and I'd also be....and have been.....the first to admit that it's all too prevalent nowadays. It doesn't take a master sociologist to realise that in a city as diverse as New York, some companies simply could not keep their employee populations as homogenous as they are without having a Nazi, Black Panther, or radical feminist doing all their hiring. A help wanted ad may be placed in a newspaper without racial or gender specifications, but all too often, half the poor fools showing up at the doorstep, résumé in hand, will be turned away simply for being the wrong colour or possessing the wrong set of genitalia. I must say I do feel sorry for these people.

But then there's the rest of them.

Some folks should just get it through their nuts that they're not unemployed because they're white, black, male, female, or an asexual being from the planet Tapioca. They're unemployed because they're fucking wastes of space and oxygen. They're nasty. Sometimes they're also really ugly and they often possess the worst personal hygiene the Western world has ever seen. They're stupid. They don't like to work, don't usually bother to work, and even on the rare occasion when they do work, they do everything arsewards anyway, because they're totally fucking incompetant. And whenever anyone else dares point out any of the above to them, or admonish them for being useless, capital-sapping eyesores, they get even snarkier and ruder than usual and somebody's forced to bash their faces in with a stapler.

These are people nobody wants to hang around for free. So what the hell makes them think anyone's going to pay to see them day after day?

Answer? Nothing.

This kind of person knows all too well the real reason why they're not working, and most of the time, they don't feel very bad about it. But then, someone dares ask them to explain, and they have to make something up.

In the olden days, it took a bit of creativity on the part of the lazy shit to invent a reason, and they all seemed to claim that either the Masonic order or some fraternity or country club was behind it all. But now, with unemployment on the rise, the racial and gender awareness of the American public as it is, and the terms 'affirmative action', 'reverse discrimination', 'ageism' and 'quotas' household names, even the meagre creative juices of these assholes have been allowed to dry up.

And not only that, but now instead of just mumbling an explanation and dropping it, they can expound on the injustices of the system for hours and hours and hours and hours and.....then it really begins to get on your nerves.

So here's the deal. I know what it's like to be discriminated against. I'm very young-looking, female, gay, and 'foreign'. I have medical and psychological histories that could choke a horse, I'm a mother, and I have absolutely no solid connections to anyone in power. No matter how conservatively I wear my hair or how expensively I dress, I unfailingly look like an incompetant airhead. But I've also never had to take my non-lice-infested, semi-literate, white immigrant girly ass to Burger King to apply for a job flipping burgers. Any position I've been turned down for has been fairly competitive, and the people in charge (no matter how much I bitched and complained) could get away with being picky, and could even be a bit bigoted without being too blatant about it. However, the last time I checked, Pathmark hired everybody of legal age and immigration status (and even some not) who applied to stock their shelves and pack their bags. Skin colour never seemed to matter too much to old Ronald McDonald. And I've always seen an equal number of she's and he's doing cafeteria duty at the hospital.

I cannot take seriously the claim of a loud, obnoxious Irishman that he suffered reverse racial discrimination at the hands of the management of a building he applied to for a job as a doorman when the head honcho and the super were a Mc and an O, and every current doorman in the place had a brogue you could slice with a knife. I also have a bit of trouble believing a black girl was turned down simply for being a black girl....for a position as a cashier in a fast-food joint in one of the blackest neighbourhoods in the Bronx.

I've heard a claim from a young lady who barely had the grades to get out of high school that Hunter College, a CUNY school with a reputation for being both diverse and vehemently feminist (oh yes, and a minimum 1000 SAT requirement), turned her down because she was female, and another from a Puerto Rican chica who wasn't too fond of going to class or buying required textbooks that she was being chucked out of medical school because she was Hispanic.

If you believe any of these tales, I've got a bridge to sell you.

Nobody's going to debate an claim of discrimination these days, at least not to the face of the accuser, for fear of being politically incorrect. But let's face it.....you know it as well as I do.....some individuals are just being turned down for new jobs for the same reason they were let go from their previous positions....not because they're a certain race, too old, or whatever, but rather, because they're just substandard human beings. And that isn't politically incorrect. It's simply good business sense.

Monday, January 15, 2007

So when are you having children, part II

In my last “children” post I complained about people asking us when we are having kids. Recently, I heard people expressing their opinions about the opposite.

A friend of mine at work got married in September and she and her husband are trying to start their family. When other colleagues heard this, a chorus of “already?” and “so soon?” was heard. Who are they to judge how quickly a couple chooses to start their family (or not)? It seems like no one is ever satisfied with if or when other people plan kids.

Who are they to have an opinion on when others have kids? What’s it to them? Is it really their business?

Now that people know that she’s trying, I’ve heard people ask “are you pregnant yet?” whenever they see her. Give me a break. She and I were talking about this and she regrets having shared this info with other colleagues. I suggested that she keep a calendar with symbols for the days she and her husband have sex and for the days her period is expected. This will alleviate the questions… they just have to look for themselves.

If and when my husband and I decide to start trying, I want no one to know. This is a such personal decision. We should be the only decision makers in this process unless anyone else wants to raise our kids, change their diapers, and pay for their medical expenses, clothing, daycare and college expenses.

So for those who want to know: No, we are not trying for children. We’re just having fun practicing.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

THAT VS. WHO: The Politics of Linguistics



I Object! Or is that Subject? This was my first reaction to the common linguistic objectification of sentient beings which has become pervasive in America—main case in point: The use of the word that in the place of the word who. Common linguistic misuse often does not register as such, eventually becoming acceptable, despite written grammatical standards chronicled in dictionaries and stylebooks. Who? That? Whatever . . . . No! These are simple yet powerful words, the usage of which potentially can have serious ramifications—root and core words, therefore of primal importance.

The improbable foreigner that remembered his dream of strangers realized he was a tourist in the eyes of the person that spoke in logical conditionals that was probably a judge or a journalist writing about my friend that was renowned for raising the eyebrows of his pet rabbits with his nomadic life.

A parallel may be drawn between the case of that vs. who and concepts of objectivity vs. subjectivity, rationality vs. irrationality, and the apparent schizophrenic dichotomy of the left and right hemisphere functions of the human brain—how they can operate in harmony, at odds, or with one side dominating due to biological causes, (or more likely), less exertion of the other side.

The usage of that instead who has become prevalent; but I ask you to consciously recall the origins of how it has permeated your use of it (if it has indeed)—just how did it you absorb it? This is opposed to the sort of trendy, infectious waves of linguistic rashes (of short duration), or diseases (lingering) of certain words, for example “actually” and “basically,” which people used compulsively (nervous ticking), as anchors to somehow reassure themselves of their reality; here in New York City, among journalists, a swift, ubiquitous rash spread of the word of “ubiquitous,” as if the unintentional punning was somehow too much to remain contained; the obscure, unearthed word “schadenfreude,” which, once committed to memory, took hold with a (short spate of) vengeance; the virulent “like” has been a veritable insidious plague; but, most alarming, has been the fact that many people are referring to one another as that’s instead of who‘s (and thankfully not it’s, yet, because that would be just too blatantly inappropriate), perpetuating, subconsciously, the dehumanizing of people as quantity or objects—this recent mutation in the usage of the word that, oddly enough, has coincided with the growth of globalization.

Globalization and its media coverage was projected to aid in the “humanizing” of peoples in other countries, for non-travelers and those with no direct familial ties abroad; believe it or not, there are adults who have never lived anywhere but in their own hometowns, in other countries too!; and people dying or being killed at any given moment, in other nations too, like in our own!—to prove to us that our country should not be as egocentrically nationalistic as (gasp) other countries are! What country in the world projects the notion: “Yeah, I guess we are an OK people, but there are far better countries, so we might as well just go crawl under a rock for their edification. We give up, just invade us now, and get it over with already.”?—if you hear of one, let me know. New world journalism was supposed to bring us all closer (making the world “smaller.” What? Why not bigger?), calling us to empathize with this person’s hurting or that person’s pure joy; but it has, just as likely, had the opposite effect of objectifying people’s suffering or diminishing their exultations, depending on who is watching from what perspective or state of mind—which has led to juxtapositional schizophrenia, induced by data and sensory overload.

Globalization, a flashback to the roots (pre-omni tête-à-tête): Most world news coverage in the grand United States used to be limited to relatively small segments on the evening news, a couple of weekly news “magazines” on television, and a few informative newspapers and print magazines; flashing forward again, we see that, if people are interested, they can know about the political situation of almost any country on any day of the year, even obtaining up-to-the-minute reporting if there is a particularly interesting breaking news story—but not as readily in circumstances of an extended and ongoing one, such as collective starvation, genocide or epidemics such as AIDS (those can be researched extensively on the Internet); since the average resident of the USA possesses the attention span of a two-year-old caught in between the throws of yet another temper tantrum; news stories (if they do not consist of pure sensationalism) warrant one solid week of media concentration, two tops, if they are lucky, before interest wanes drastically—people are out there working, shopping, and online right now, ignoring much more than that, just one or two clicks away from news of any current travesty they wish to avoid; so, the world goes on as usual, just as it did during this or that war occurring at any period in human history, but now many of us can know so much more, forcing us to be more responsible and culpable for the willful obliviousness which we display day to day.

Globalization, exponentialized by the awesome Technological Revolution, promised to allow us more leisure time, because the populace assumption (fed by the media) was that the artificial intelligence of machines would make lives easier; but in reality, it has just accelerated activities phenomenally, generating endless work and stress, especially for people in metropolitan areas, some of whom are becoming juggling and overwhelmed scatterbrains, producing inevitable errors. As much as I extol the concept of the evolution of our species by pushing intelligence further and further out, I predict that more people are going to break, despite their drugs, exercise, religion, therapy, and multifarious escapes (some of which are supported by open minded corporate employers to ostensibly reduce stress levels, but strategically, to prepare the employee to endure even more work).

Is this really going to have to get brutally Darwinian?

I can imagine—and use the word quite carefully in this context—America moving on a slow course in the direction of Nazi Germany in its nationalistic mentality—I know that envisioning this might seem to some a harsh criticism, perhaps unwarranted or hyperbolic, yet, seriously, consider this: Who ever believes the atrocities of a country until they become concrete and verifiable? Then the ensuing, retroactive debate—hindsight. Recent politics have given birth to unsettling political Family Dynasties, such as those of The Bushes and the Bin Ladens, associated through The Carlyle Group business of President George W. Bush Sr. (a former Head of the CIA), directly, and President George W. Bush Jr. (a former CEO), indirectly, one company down—until The Fall out of the World Trade Center; this seems even less surprising considering that the preceding Prescott Bush (a US Senator) found himself transacting indirect business through a few companies which financed the German government during the Third Reich, until the U.S. government’s Trading with the Enemy Act put a stop to it. The U.S. government aided Saddam Hussein’s authoritarian reign, during the Iraq/Iran war. These are just a few examples in U.S. history of advantageous business involvement with smaller countries (exhibiting no sense of ethics) against others (for relatively temporary gains), followed by distancing, dissociation and erasure through propaganda when a tie is no longer advantageous; then ultimate betrayal—a recognizable cycle. To drill down a bit more: In the environs, be they literal or political, people do not heed the warning signs of toxic situations until the damages become manifestly undeniable. Journalists’ and politicians’ collective jaws drop this week or that, as they ask “How did this happen?” and proclaim “We must do something about it. It should never happen again.”—with regularity, these serial emergencies are treated with the same rhetoric, despite the inherent differences of the actual events.

The only Revolution that I can get in front of is that of The Mind; Freedom ultimately is in one’s Head—that of Absolute Sovereignty.

Which brings me back to who vs. that.

It is still grammatically proper to use the word who when referencing a person by his or her classification, title, or entity, as defined by the object relations of societal function (such as a person’s job title—lawyer, cashier, waitress, etcetera): “The judge who . . .” “The journalist who . . .”—no matter how objective these specific groups of people strive to be, and regardless of their attempts to flatten the field with their egalitarianism, grammatically, they are still who’s, not that’s.

Lumping people into easily assigned groups, sussing and dismissing, without attempting to understand them individually, is, by the very action, generalizing; yes, it is much easier to consider people as components of groups, such as Capitalists, Socialists, Communists, Radicals, Republicans, Democrats and so on, rather than perceiving them as individuals encountered on a one-to-one basis (group vs. person) as, say, a coworker, with whom I converse daily, because that might compromise one’s ideas about being for or against a specific group or movement. The ability to see subjectively and objectively, at will, can be of extreme importance in how one navigates one’s life.

One could posit that all sentient beings, human beings and other animals, could be considered who’s, with consciousness—one could even broaden this to vegetation, to the extent that this ideal might create vegetarians out of people who wish to counteract the narrowness of their natural, speciescentric inclinations; so, even broccoli could be considered a who, as that’s disintegrate into the oblivion of who suchness: when every particle exists with its own level of consciousness, without which it could not exist. Descartes was wrong in his assessment that animals do not have souls because they do not “think.” Everything in existence must “think,” therefore it All Exists—there is no space that is not full of Something; even the seemingly Empty is Full; and everything is in flux, as Heraclitus intuited so simply; this has been proven by the sciences of biology, chemistry, and physics, among others. Then again, applying the same logic, everything just mentioned could all be thought of as thatness, instead—yet whoness has been a speciescentric construct, but thatness, too impersonal.

One can apply some imagination to spot the obvious anthropomorphizing of objects all around us: Humans have created abundant objects in the encompassing architecture—many of these objects directly reflect their creators: The phallic, the round, the facial—structures which echo parts of the human body and psychology, as well as mimic natural patterns and phenomena. For centuries, some languages have featured the genderizing of practically every object—all that linguistic effort ensconced in the poetic and/or the sexist. So humans, theoretically, could anthropomorphize all existing things, transforming everything into a who—this is where some have created a God in their own image who necessarily must think like a Human—a very LARGE Human; other Gods created by Humans are allowed more freedom to be less known.

So is everything, including human beings, destined to be all that, all who, or both, in some fluctuating proportion, until we eventually become extinct or leave the planet? Should we even try to retain these linguistic distinctions between the human who, and all other matter that?

The Turk who murdered the Armenian that; The Nazi who murdered the Jewish that; The Jew who murdered the Muslim that; The Arabs who murdered The American World Trade Center that; The Americans who murdered the _______ that . . . .

Who always wants to win.

The _______ who will murder the _______ that.
The _______ that will murder the _______ that?

Wars kill linguistic distinctions.



Copyright Carol Maric 2007
All Rights Reserved

Friday, January 05, 2007

Negating the New Congress

So we did it. On Election Day, millions of voters made the conscience decision to fire the Republicans.

They live in the gutters now, devoid of national supremacy and the support of a fickle public.

In two years, we had gone from a dubious and barbaric mandate to a political climate of optimism and dread. Bush was a curse to other Republicans, and any decent campaign manager made sure he stayed far away.

The results sent a message to the rest of world, and confirmed that we are still somewhat sane, despite all that has happened. More importantly, the Democratic majority in the federal congress will also serve as a barrier against the fundamentalist bullshit we’ve been forced to eat for most of this decade.

In this new congress, we will not have to hear about a constitutional amendment discriminating against gay and lesbian couples. We won’t have to debate flag burning again, or argue over what a fetus can or can’t feel. No, those things can be left to the states.

What To Expect From The New Congress


For one thing, the new majority will focus on widely popular issues and act moderately.

We’ll probably get a minimum wage increase, which hasn’t happened since 1997. Of course, the proposed increase will pale in comparison with what actually passes for a living wage in most of the country, but I guess it’s a start.

We’ll probably get interest rates on federal student loans to decrease, which is a blessing for any college student on financial aid.

We’ll probably get a slew of new laws dealing with corruption. Of course, they probably won’t have much of an effect as members of Congress have already proven that they don’t care if they break the law, but at least we’ll have more to prosecute them with when they do.

We’ll probably see a lot of debates on health care reform. Naturally, none of it will lead to any socialized form of medicine, but citizens might get a few kickbacks when it comes to insurance costs.

What Not To Expect From The New Congress

We won’t be getting out of Iraq any time soon. Legislators will criticize the occupation and lament the death and destruction, but they won’t come far in implementing any concrete solutions before the next election.

We won’t be getting our civil liberties back anytime soon. The Patriot Act and Military Commissions Act won’t be touched. The Democrats are too cowardly to mess with any law that might have to do with terrorism. They’d rather bury habeas corpus than have votes come back to haunt them under the guise of national security.

We won’t be getting rid of poverty anytime soon. And let’s add in corporate malfeasance to that too. It’s because of Democrats what we have NAFTA and CAFTA. They’ve heard the arguments, but they just don’t care to act on them. They’re afraid of alienating members of the business community.

We won’t be making significant changes anytime soon. Pick your issue: environment, immigration, foreign policy, or crime and corrections. If it’s controversial in anyway, the Democrats won’t be doing anything.

In Conclusion

If you’re expecting a revolution, you’re going to be disappointed. The new congress is all about power, and holding on to it.

It’s going to take a very long time to reverse the damage that this country has shouldered for the past seven years, and the new congress is not composed of saviors.

Welcome to politics.