This week, more than ever, I've been wondering to myself (sometimes aloud, sometimes silently) why do I love it here at TPM so much?  Why am I a TPMAholic?  For more about TPMaholics Not-So-Anonymous, look us up at www.barackobama.com under Groups.  Or, alternatively, search posts by CaliforniaPaige and Genghis and, while you're viewing all of their posts, feel free to buy someone a beer.

God, I wish I knew how to use the buttons on the top of this freakin post page.  The comment page is so much easier.  I have gotten <i>so</i> used to those distracting little html code thingies.  But, I digress.

Why do I love it here?  Why, when sometimes I get bashed over the head or in the nose and sometimes even my kneecaps (with a bat, no less), do I choose to come back here, almost daily, for more punishment?

Because I love the fact that each of us loves politics.

We're addicted to politics.  We eat, sleep, and breathe politics.  We talk politics, we walk politics, we use the Chicago-style, elbow-jabbing, this is MY fucking court, politics. 

Our conversations range from gasoline, energy, human rights, the Constitution, institutions, absolutions, to Obama and McCain. 

But it's not just the politics we're addicted to.  It's the people.  We range from IT nerds to lawyers to housewives to social workers.  We all have voices and perspectives and we love to share our knowledge.  We also love to bat each other around like mice in a slim cat's clutches, but we always stand up, dust ourselves off, and get right back into the ring again. 

Unless we're banned.

And then we just create new user names (if we haven't already got two or three others under our hats -- and no, I don't post under any other name, just so you know) and we go right back at it again, waving our flags, shouting our points of view, shouting down each other like Chris Matthews and his merry band of loud people who don't listen to each other, until someone accidently spits or gets flustered. 

Meanwhile, all the time exposing more and more of ourselves to each other.  Our weaknesses, our soft spots, our unexpected kindnesses -- our cruel moments.  And we still come back for more.  Because it's better than General Hospital in the Luke and Laura days.  It's better than Who Shot J.R.  Okay, I'm showing my age now.  But, I digress.

What I mean is, we're all different, but we're all beautiful.  Our own little human unique snowflakes.  Who sometimes melt down softly, or stay frozen and cold and rather sharp to the vulnerable un-scarfed part of your face that's exposed to snow in harsh, bitter wind.  Depending on our mood, or the news of the day, or -- usually both.

I love all of your points of view, even though I don't always agree with them.  I love the passion that all of you have.  I love the fact that so many people are willing to share what they know to a bunch of strangers across the world.  I love this place.

Thanks.

"Financier Linked to Burkle and Clinton Is Charged".

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121431648873899937.html?mod=hpp_us_whats_news


I think I'd rather make the cover of the Rolling Stone.  Wouldn't you?

My youngest sister is a hell of a lot more religious than I am.  She's gotten into some guy named Andy Stanley.  I don't resent it when she sends me a religious email now and then, because I understand we all have our own ideological points of view, but I have to admit I don't always read them.

I think she knows this, because the religious emails have slowed way down.  Which is why, when I got this email from her today, I actually stopped and read it. 

It is a very interesting (to me, anyway) mix of politics and religion that I find fascinating.  Andy Stanley's North Point Ministries is encouraging people to write letters to the next president, and whether it be Obama or McCain doesn't matter.

This website includes links to letters already written, as well as a place where you can write your own.  Again, I find this whole idea rather fascinating.  So I thought I'd share the link with you all, and see what you think about it, if anything:

http://www.letterstothenextpresident.com/

I sit here, able to turn on my A/C and my computer, and pet my cats, and meanwhile some people in this world are displaced due to war -- Iraq, anyone? -- or due to flooding or earthquakes or unfair laws in their own countries.

People are dying, and I have an iPod.  I have PC games.  I have access to almost one hundred cable TV channels.

I have a life.  I live it.  I recycle my beer cans, my V-8 cans, my Vitamin Water bottles.  I go to work.  Don't always love it but I love the fact that I have a job and make money, and am able to contribute my money to causes I deem worthwhile.

Meantime, people are dying. 

Every. Single.  Fucking day.

Makes my life seem not so significant, don't it.

Makes my anger over whatever makes me angry today seem rather silly, don't it.

Makes my anger over whether Hillary should've won or FISA won and shouldn't have seem rather silly, don't it.

Life goes on. 

I want life to go on with a Democratic President in our White House.  Anything else, after all, could make life going on obsolete.

I mean, really.

So last week I'm watching Channel 13 late at night and I see a special about The Clash.  And I remember how sexy the bass player, Paul Simonon was, back in the day, so I watch this hour-long special. 

And I learned that not only was Paul Simonon sexy (he still is, btw), but Joe Strummer was one of the most political lead singers, lyricists, and rhythm guitar players since....well, since maybe John Lennon.  <b>And then some<b>.

One week later, two DVD orders later, dozens and dozens of youtube video viewings later, dozens and dozens of wiki hits about each song, each album, each band member, and I'm wondering why in the hell I thought Duran Duran was hot back in the day.  As I told Sean last week, I have no Duran Duran songs on my iPod.....but I now have 11 songs by The Clash and am buying up about 3 per day.

The music, the lyrics, the politics, the <i>emotion</i>....how did I miss all of this until now?

Where in the hell have I been?

And ain't it a crying shame that Joe Strummer passed away in 2002?