Awfully close this time; the discussions with a reporter regarding the Dean campaign and internet voting resulted in published quotes with attribution to the REAL me in a front page article.  They wanted a photograph; I put them off. 

Too weird by half to see my REAL name in print when I’m so used to seeing my pseudonym.  Weirder yet to see comments regarding our political processes that I made in black-and-white, in a traditional medium and a larger audience than I have each day here in my blog.

The kids were excited: Mom’s in the paper, Mom’s in the paper!  I wondered if any of their friends at school might learn of this.  Hubby was pleased, too, though I don’t know whether it was because my comments weren’t foaming-at-the-mouth liberal but statistically valid.

5:11:40 PM    comment []

Blah-blah-blah-yadda-yadda, Pete Rose this, Pete Rose that.

Whatever.  Punish the guy already and recognize him for his performance in sports just as other legendary players have been recognized, in spite of their infamous and obnoxious off-field behavior.  Ty Cobb and Babe Ruth come to mind in that category.

What really gets my goat about the Rose situation, particularly after listening to Selig about Rose being a great-player-not-so-good-human?

We are holding a mere sports figure to a higher standard of performance than our politicians or industry leaders -- people who have far greater impact on our lives on a day-to-day basis than a sports figure.

We’ve tolerated liars in office whose actions may have lead directly to the deaths of other human beings; we’ve pussy-footed about taking down businessmen whose actions or lack thereof have lead directly to the loss of livelihood or retirement savings of employees, retirees and stakeholders.

Hell, even Jack Welch is lauded in spite of cheating on and leaving his wife, in spite of his approval of squirrely long-term financing for short-term improvements in stock pricing.  Welch isn't feted for being a nurturing, generous human being, either; he's praised for his cutthroat business practices (they don't call him "Neutron Jack" for his beneficence).  Nobody will give a rat's whisker about his misbehaviors fourteen years from now; a good many don't right now, even though they either own/owned GE stock or products.

Punish Rose and be done with it; he’d probably get better treatment if he was named CEO or got elected to public office.

10:40:32 AM    comment []

Id bursts into the family room, bleary-eyed, claiming he will get dressed right away so that he has time to play before going to school. He yawns as if punctuating this statement, his blanket over his head to shield his eyes from the light.

Superego has been up and dressed for a half-hour at this point; she laid her clothes out for the first three days of the week on Sunday evening and only has to jump into them as soon as she rises.  She prodded groggy Id awake early as she promised him she would last evening.

Objectives quickly degrade; Id no longer wants to get dressed, only wants to curl in a corner on the couch under a blanket.  Superego nags Id to get going, but her nagging only encourages Id to curl up ever tighter.

Id is finally persuaded to dress once his clothes are laid out for him.  He is determined to be his own person, refusing even to break away long enoug to go to the bathroom before whining his way through dressing.  A final burst of whining about his bunching underwear compels him to seek out the bathroom to take care of business.

He is unable to decide what to eat for breakfast.  Nothing sounds good even though he is hungry.  As usual, offering Id something chocolaty like a warm cup of cocoa entices him out of this stalemate.  He yields to buttered whole-wheat toast alongside the cocoa.

One might think that Id would evolve to a higher level of function under the application of chocolate and carbohydrates; not so this morning.  He is heartbroken that he has lost his entire budget of play time to whining and dragging his tail; he resists brushing his teeth and must be impelled into the bathroom to do so.  He vacillates petulantly over putting on his boots and his coat, cannot find his mittens, manages to forget his hat as he exits the house.

Superego is annoyed at this disgraceful display of bad manners and inefficiency.  She has fixed herself breakfast, eaten, washed-brushed-combed, packed her backpack and now huffs off to the waiting car after sitting patiently in her coat for nearly ten minutes.

We are now running late, Id, Superego and me.  I drive as fast as I can, take a couple of unorthodox shortcuts to deliver Superego and Id to school on time.  Not a pretty sight, but I’ve accomplished this morning’s most important objective.

Does that make me Ego?

9:10:56 AM    comment []