Un-Conventional Caucus

So after the primary, I showed up at my precinct’s Democratic caucus.

It was tight–Hillary got about six or seven more votes than Obama.

We ended up getting to send 15 delegates (and 15 alternates) to our Senatorial Convention, 8 Hillary and 7 Obama.

We get to send one delegate and one alternate to the Texas Democratic Convention in Austin, and it would be a Hillary delegate and an Obama alternate.

I don’t know what happened amongst the Hillary delegates and alternates. I was chosen to be an Obama delegate. I got emails and phone calls from our Obama captain. She had everybody to her house for training.

I know we had a good Hillary captain, too. The two captains worked together like clockwork at out caucus, and it was totally about cooperation and respect and everybody liking everybody else. I don’t know if the Hillary people got together for training. I don’t know what might have happened.

All I know is that today we all showed up for the Senatorial Convention in Dallas. We stood in line for hours. We sat in uncomfortable seats for hours. We had bursts of “wow, this is fascinating!” followed by long periods of “what the fuck are they doing now?”

Our precinct hung tight, Obama and Hillary. We laughed, we joked, we saved places, we were party faithful just doing our civic duty.

But a funny thing happened.

We had all our Obama delegates and three alternates show up.

The Hillary camp was missing one delegate and had no alternates.

One of our alternates stepped into the empty spot and immediately the power shifted.

We got to send our Obama delegate to Austin. Their delegate who assumed she was going is now an alternate. You could tell this tilted her world off its axis, a bit. She was nice about it, but you could tell. She never dreamed this could happen.

The Hillary people were caught off guard (though they shouldn’t have been). I guess they just all assumed they’d all be there, and no alternates felt it was worth their time to show up. Most of them accepted it with wry shrugs. I think one woman is still convinced Obama stole something from her personally.

The last time a race was so tight that Texas caucuses and conventions actually made a difference was in 1964. I don’t know if it will happen again.

I bought my Obama t-shirt.

I’m part of history.

I’m glad I was there.

(Oh, and I don’t care what his preacher says. I do care what Hillary says. What McCain says. What Obama says. I’ve listened to them all, and, um, Obama wins. Yay!)

It’s Easter…

… so I once again ponder this:

Neither the angel nor Jesus said, “Hey, girls, go get some men, I have a job to be done, a message to send, and that requires male dangly bits, you know.”

Yet there are some who say women can’t be priests or preachers.

I guess I’m not supposed to say, “Bite my bum” on a day like Easter, so instead I say…

Happy Easter, wherever you are and whatever you believe.

Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake, for His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” So they departed quickly from the tomb.

And behold, Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.” Matthew 28 (1-10)

‘Tis the (other) season

Last year I riffed on Mel Gibson’s The Passion.
This time I’m letting Financial Times take on cinema and religion.

Mary Magdalene and Jesus in Rebel Without a Cause.

Imitations of Christ

By Nigel Andrews

Published: March 15 2008 01:33

What is the connection between a bunch of penguins in the Antarctic and a wardrobe leading into a wonderland? Or between a modern-day murder in the Louvre and a 2,000-year-old story of a man crucified for teaching messages of love and forgiveness?

It’s a weird time in Christendom, and for no one more than this doubting film critic, once educated by Anglicans. I meet religion every day on the screen, be it self-declared or subtly disguised. I challenge its myths and mysticisms in my mind with rational humanism. Yet what westerner born in the 20th century – to the emergent din of new audiovisual support systems for the scripture stories (movie epics, TV, rock operas) – can ever quite escape the Good Book or its echoes? Even when those echoes take, as they do today, a more elusive, changeable form.

Read more by clicking here.

Curses! (Regency Style)

So, you know how on amazon when you click on a book, they suggest similar books that might interest you?

Several times I was scoping out books on the Regency period of England and one of the suggested books was a book on language during that time. I think it was on oaths and swearing and such. It looked kind of cool; I don’t recall if I ever clicked on it or if I just always glanced at it and decided I should check it out someday.

All I know for sure is this. Now that I want to find that f*c%ing book, it doesn’t show up anywhere.

My brain doesn’t always do logic, so sometimes search engines don’t help me because I don’t think of the right terms to search. But I’ve used the term “Regency” and come up with nothing. I’ve used “language” and “swear” and come up with stuff like this book:

Which looks interesting, I’ll admit, but still isn’t the book I’m looking for.

All of which makes me want to say fuck.

Fuck.

People who are too polite to say fuck.

Feel Good on St. Patty’s Day

I love this.  I couldn’t find it on youtube so to see the video you’ll have to go to the NYTimes page, but do it.  It’s wonderful.

For Bronx School, Dance Moves are Irish 

Photo: Andrea Mohin/The New York Times

Excerpt:

With a student body that is 71 percent Hispanic and 27 percent black, Public School 59 does not seem an obvious home for a thriving Irish dance troupe. And when Caroline Duggan first arrived from Dublin at age 23 to try her hand as a New York City public school music teacher, it wasn’t. Many of her students had never heard of Ireland. Why, they wanted to know, did she talk funny?