A fanatic is one who can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject.

Although prepared for martyrdom, I preferred that it be postponed.

He has all of the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.

I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught.

And you get the general drift.  Any man who could call his depression a “black dog,” which is the most accurate metaphor I can think of, in front of the entire world, deserves more of my attention.  He seems cool.  I’m down with Winston so far.

APR?  FICO?  Interest rates? 

This time when my mother sat me down, I listened.  My interest rates had hit the maximum on all of my cards.  My credit score was abysmal.  My mother solemnly informed me that I would never own a home or a new car or anything else worth anything because I wouldn’t be approved for any sort of loan.  She also took a look at my paychecks and my debt load, including student loans and plain old fashioned daily budgeting.  After a cursory five-minute once over, she told me to file for bankruptcy.  I didn’t believe her, so I went to a financial planner.  He told me to file for bankruptcy.  Still unconvinced, I saw a CPA/lawyer.  She told me to file for bankruptcy.  I was twenty-two.  I was devastated.  “At least,” my mother said, “you learned your lesson.”  And I had, I really had…kinda. 

Now credit card-less, I began operating on a cash basis.  All of the books said that this was a great way to keep track of your budget.  You could physically see what was going out and coming in, which was supposed to alert you psychologically when it was time to stop spending.  I’d learned the hard way about creditors and “invisible” money.  By now I was out of the red.  I had absolutely no savings, though, so I wasn’t exactly in the black.  I guess I was more in the maroon area.  I still wasn’t about to pass up a sale at Neiman’s simply because it was the fifth of the month and my proverbial coffers were already nearly empty.  I didn’t spend more than I earned, but I spent every bit that I had.

Then I wrecked my car.  And I had emergency surgery (doctors, hospitals, and health insurance companies – another lesson learned which we’ll save for another day).  And my roommate stiffed me on rent.  Before I knew it, I was up the same sewage-filled creek I had been years before.  I realized that credit cards weren’t the only thing to threaten my credit score.  There were these businesses called “Credit Collection Agencies” that were pretty serious about recovering their client’s money.  I pictured the doctor I hadn’t been able to pay gloomily recounting the story of my debt to a Soprano-like cousin who responded, quietly, “You know, I know a guy who knows a guy…let me make a few calls for ya.  Someday, I may ask you for a favor…”  The phone calls and letters, threatening everything from harassment to legal action, were non-stop.  It took another couple of years of real scrooge-like saving, negotiating, and making payments before I got out of that hole.  And my mother said to me, “Well, at least you learned your lesson.”  And I wanted to kick her.

But I had, in fact, learned something very important.  I learned to keep my “invisible” money – money on credit – to a bare minimum, and to build my tangible money into a nice, soft, cushiony emergency fund.  My credit score began to rise at a glacial pace, but still it was something.  “We’ll tackle investments next,” my mother said not too long ago.  “Then you’ll have really learned something.”  Little did she know how true that would turn out to be.  Not more than six months after that, we all learned a little something about investments when we looked up from the Pottery Barn catalog and fuzzily said, “Bailout?  What bailout?”

My 81 year old grandmother took a beating from her mutual funds.  But she still has more than enough to live very well and still have a little extra to throw our way when she doesn’t need it anymore.  “Besides,” she taunted me.  “Me and my friends get Social Security.”

My parents were hit hard, too.  How hard I’m not sure; their finances are none of my business.  But I do know that their retirement plans were turned upside down.  Still, they’re resolute.  Stoic, even.  So it takes another five years until retirement.  Them’s the breaks, kid. 

The myriad reactions of my friends and colleagues, though, range from sheer panic to total denial.  Some just bought houses they can no longer even pretend to afford.  Some had their “emergency funds” tied up in complicated investments that had been intended to make them Trumps overnight.  Many of them work in the financial sector and have either already been victims of the ax or know they’re in line for it.  Strangley, others are determined to go ahead with their already planned $5000 weekend to the Virgin Islands, something like Custer’s Last Stand.  One girlfriend spent thousands in one weekend alone on presents for her two-year old daughter, determined that at least Christmas of 2008 would be a good one for the little angel.  Another made a New Year’s Resolution to begin clipping coupons.  She had never done it before.

I have watched all of this go by me almost guiltily unscathed (so far).  You see, I’ve been clipping coupons for years.  I have no investments other than a couple of high-yield short-term CDs.  I don’t own a home; I rent an apartment and I got a steal on the lease.  My car is crap, but it’s paid off.  My credit score is just now climbing above ground, squinting at the sun.  And my little, uncomplicated savings account is federally insured, though I’m not sure how reassuring that is in light of recent events.  I’ve spent the last six or seven years watching my friends with envy thinking, “Someday, I’ll be able to buy a house/a BMW/a pair of Jimmy Choos, etc.”  It’s only now that I’m realizing they weren’t able to buy those things, either, but they sure had the means (credit) to borrow them.  And there are thousands of shady characters whispering to cousins all across the country, “I know a guy who knows a guy…”

So here we are with this economic crisis, much of which is being laid at the feet of our generation.  I argue that we are the first real “credit” generation.  Since reaching legal age, we’ve had credit thrown at us from every direction.  YOU HAVE BEEN APPROVED!!!  Those four words have financially killed so many.  We borrowed money that we couldn’t repay, and the money lenders let us, giving a sense of legitimacy to the whole thing.  And let’s face it: it’s not like the Federal government made it difficult for us. 

The American Dream isn’t something we break our backs for anymore; it’s something we expect, something we feel we deserve.  Perhaps our need to nest in our ridiculously upgraded new sub-division homes is the result of watching too many after school specials as latch-key kids.  Maybe our fixation on giving our children the very latest, best, most expensive technology/toys (for who can tell the difference anymore?) stems from some feeling of neglect leftover from childhood.  Or maybe we just looked down at ourselves sometime around 1996 and said, “Screw this flannel and these ripped up jeans, screw La Vie Boheme, and screw giving all my money to Greenpeace.  I want brand names, and I want them now.”  Whatever the reason, most of us have gotten ourselves into this mess, and we’re going to have to figure out a way to get out of it.

But at least we’ll have learned our lesson, right?

Check it out: Reuters Story on Charles Schwab Gen X Study

http://www.reuters.com/article/pressRelease/idUS107217+11-Feb-2008+BW20080211

My first class back was in the second summer session of 2008.  I figured I would test the waters, so to speak, with a class on a subject I am somewhat obsessed with: The Golden Age of Hollywood.  I knew it would be an easy A for me.  Growing up in my house was like a constant education in that area.  To this day Claudette Colbert stands out as my first female idol, and Gene Kelly as my first crush.  Which meant that what would be difficult was the students.  I wanted to see my reaction to being surrounded by 20 year olds in a small way before jumping full fledged into the Fall semester.  It was a wise decision.  My second day there I heard a girl say she had just moved into the same apartment complex I lived in.  Thinking it was a perfect way to slide into conversation, I mentioned that I lived in said complex and listed its several perks.  Her name was Jillian, and she invited me to come to the pool to use her boyfriend’s floating beer pong table anytime. 

A rational person would think, “My, how cute the little babies look trying to act all grown up!”  My reaction?  My God.  She has perfect legs.  And they were perfect.  They were free of cellulite, evenly tanned, so hair-free they had to be waxed, slim, jiggle and vein free legs that were revealed daily by the teeny shorts she wore.  I looked around, and every female pair of legs in that room seemed to be taunting me with their young, as yet unravaged by time and gravity perfection. 

My university is also somewhat well known for its abundance of money and the gazillionaire kids who go there.  Who all carry Coach purses and seriously walk to class in Christian Louboutins.  Really.  Who does that?  When I was there the first time around we were all still feeling the aftershocks of the Clerks syndrome and went to class in whatever we rolled out of bed in.  These women dress as though they stepped out of The Devil Wears Prada every single day.  One girl in my poetry class commented that she went home to change after every class.  Granted, she was an extraordinary example, bless her little heart, but still.  She had perfect legs and wore Chanel.  My husband and I haven’t bought new clothes in two years and I can feel my love handles jiggle when I run up the stairs (after which I have to stop and stretch the stitch out of my side and heave for breath).

I was smarter than most, or maybe I just cared more, but though I excelled academically I was by no means at the tip top of my class.  I’m married, run a business from home, and do not have Mom and Dad financing free time for study.  Hell, I can’t even qualify for a Capital One card.  That’s saying something.  I spend a lot of my time working and the rest studying, which isn’t the best recipe for a strong marriage.  I made great grades, but some made even better ones which really pissed me off.  So not only was I intimidated financially and superficially, I was intimidated academically.

Oh, the stress.  Add in the extracurriculars which every employer expects to see on your resume and I was one strung out chick.  By the time finals for the Spring semester rolled around I was a nut case.  After my last final I drove directly to Barnes & Noble and bought the box set of the Twilight series.  Keep in mind I’m an honors English major.  Edward Cullen was my personal brand of heroin.  I wasn’t even irked by the misspelled words and the astonishingly, stunningly awful syntax.  I read all four books in less than three days and I loved them.  I was but a shell of myself.  It wasn’t pretty.

I think I’ll do it differently this time around.  Because I realized that you couldn’t pay me enough to go through my twenties again…okay, fine, I’m open to negotiation.  These poor kids.  I feel like shaking them and applauding them at the same time.  They’re so completely different from my generation that I can’t really figure them out.  Less than ten years separates us, but it might as well be fifty.  I got my first cell phone my freshman year of college.  They speak in text.  There’s this entire wall of technology separating us, and let me tell you that they’re going to use that technology to take over the world.  Little Brother is watching.  I figured out Myspace right when everyone was abandoning ship for Facebook.  I joined FB just as everyone started tweeting everywhere.  I just don’t even get that one. 

So, Kristy, let’s attempt to focus on the pros and ignore the cons this year.  I’m over the intimidation phase.  I’ve gone through that and come through the other side.  I’ve survived the stress of finals and term papers and know I can do it for at least two more semesters.  Confidence has been restored somewhat, and if I have to wear last year’s ballet flats and accept making a B+ in order to keep from going insane then so be it.  Because I refuse to be scared of the “in” crowd at my age.  For God’s sake.  They weren’t even alive when The Simpsons made their debut.  They know nothing.  I am superior in my infinite wisdom and experience. 

But I really do have to lose this ten pounds before classes start again or I’ll never be able to buy that desperately needed pair of skinny jeans.

I remember vowing that I could and would starve for the sake of art. Oh, the journals I filled with “Who am I?” and dreams of actually touching the stars I reached for. The endless cups of coffee and packs of cigarettes, the conviction I would someday “find myself,” the soul searching and the angst and the hormones, the “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this person because I’ve found my soulmate” teenage romances, the yearning to be someone else, be somewhere else, be something more. Know where it got me? Working as a glorified secretary, a college drop-out, coming home at night and deflating on the couch in front of Grey’s Anatomy, buying expensive things just to have something to be excited about. That life was definitely not what I was dreaming about when watching Reality Bites and discovering the Beatles. And still, I wanted more. I wanted to be high on life again.

I remember one night when my husband came home and found me crying. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling, that I was seeing my life stretch before me in one endless rut of 401Ks and pointless dinner parties and making travel arrangements for executives I secretly resented with a passion. I went on (releasing, I suppose, years worth of pent up frustration) for a long time. When I ran out of steam, he told me something I will never forget.

“So do something else.”

I know it sounds ridiculously simple. But I was so torn. What about my responsibilities? My retirement funds? My marriage? The truth was, though, that I was just scared of getting bitch slapped by life again. So I spilled my frustration into blogs. I partied and shopped to distract myself. And I whined a lot, telling myself that someday I would go back to big dreams…right after I got this credit card paid off, or after my wedding, or after whatever excuse I could think of.

Then my father died, and everything changed. Suddenly I was petrified that time would run out before I ever got to make anything of myself. So I let go and allowed myself to dream again..to dream big, to dream like I did when I was a teenager, and to actually do something about those dreams. And what do you know? Life was right there to offer me a hand up rather than a kick when I was down. I took it, and other than marrying my husband, it was the best, smartest, most rewarding, and most liberating thing I’ve ever done. I feel a satisfaction and a contentment and an excitement that tickles my memory and reminds me of how it used to be…how it should be.

Us Gen X-ers…we sure are a mess, aren’t we? Convinced by the overwhelming Baby Boomer influence that our American Dream must be the same as theirs: a home, 2.6 kids, and a white picket fence. Job security. Retirement funds. Voting Republican. We find our solace in happy hour or online shopping or something else pointless. Gone is our American Dream, whatever it might have been originally. No more rallies for AIDS awareness. No more immersion in live music and art. No more Academy Award speeches in front of the mirror. No more excitement about the unknown…just fright and resignation.

Certainly this isn’t true for everyone I know. I know people who have been and still are actively pursuing their Big Dreams, and I know people whose Big Dreams were always of the white picket fence variety. But I know a lot more people who are finding themselves in their thirties and forties wondering how they got so lost, so trapped.

So do something else. Dream big. Drive down the highway at night with the windows down and Smashing Pumpkins or the Stones blaring, watching the city lights go by. Talk to strangers. Learn about the world, and about yourself. Get high on life again. Don’t find yourself looking back on the memories you made and feeling disappointed. Go for it, go for it all. Don’t be scared. If it doesn’t work out, there’s always tomorrow.

My dad left me a lot of things, gave me a lot of gifts that I carry with me always. “If it were easy, anyone could do it.” “There is no risk without reward.” Simple things, but true. My favorite, and his, was the famous maxim from Teddy Roosevelt:

It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly…who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

So here’s the maxim I hope will stick in someone’s head once I’m no longer here: Do something. If deep inside, in the fleeting thoughts and wishes you push away, a voice is telling you that something is not quite right – do something about it. Hang on to the good in your life, say goodbye to the bad, and just do something…even if it turns out to be wrong, at least you won’t regret not trying. Stop trying to figure out what you want to do “someday,” and just do it. Let yourself dream again and step into that arena. It’s scary, it’s overwhelming, but it’s so worth it. Don’t find yourself in journals. Find yourself in living. Do something.

Generation X is generally defined as the demographic born between approximately 1965 and 1980.  This means that (as of 2009) if you are between the ages of about 30 and 50, you are one of us.  We are sandwiched in between the Baby Boomers and the Millenials, or Generation Y.  In other words, you probably don’t speak “text” – OMG, IDK, TTYL, LOL – in general conversation, nor are you yet an AARP member. 

Generation X came of age after the Cold War and, until recent events, has seen very little war and economic devastation.  We saw the fall of the Berlin Wall and the invasion of the home computer.  We inherited the AIDS epidemic.  We are responsible for MTV, Google, the ridiculous array of widely available coffee concoctions, Quentin Tarantino, and Grunge Rock.  In our youth, we were criticized as being apathetic, amoral, risk-taking, and out of touch with the “real world.”  We identified with Clerks and Nirvana and “My So Called Life”.  We sneered at big name “music” stores and were indie snobs.  We shopped at thrift stores.  We were extraordinarily involved in non-profit causes and advancements in technology.  In fact, it might be argued that we were the first “global” generation.  In short, we were pretty cool.

So what happened?

Overnight, it seems, everything changed.  The local coffee houses crumbled under the weight of Starbucks.  The dot com bubble burst, showering us all with our first big taste of economic disillusion.  Kurt Cobain killed himself.  The yuppies arrived.  The mood slowly began to switch from “Hey, let’s save the world” to “Hey, I can make big bucks in real estate and the stock market.”  Individual soul searching a la Reality Bites morphed into a strange desire to blend in a la Clueless.  WalMart took over the world.  It seemed as if we had sold out.

But I’ve been seeing a new resurgence of our old passion in unexpected ways.  Perhaps it’s just that those who didn’t sell out were more content to carry out their dreams in quiet ways, while the I’ve-got-to-have-that-new-Kate Spade-bag crew were more vocal.  However, we’re educated about global warming, the nightmares of the third-world, and American foreign policy.  We’re still a generation of start-up small businesses.  We raise voices of protest to the war in Iraq and the repression of the gay community.  And in November of 2008, we changed history when we helped to elect Barack Obama as President of the United States.

So what next?

Where will our values shift in light of the recent economic catastrophes?  Will the hope many of us feel now in the infant stages of the new Obama administration continue?  Or are we permanently disillusioned?

That’s what we’re here to find out.  We welcome your input and encourage you, no matter what age group you fall into, to share your opinions and observations with us.  Generation X is coming into its own.  We’re in a prime position to seriously affect and influence the course of history.  The youngest Baby Boomers are still actively influential, but soon the world will, in effect, truly be ours.  Let’s see what we do with it.

Okay, if we can’t figure out what it is, can we at least attempt to figure out why we’re killing ourselves trying to get it?  Granted, the last few months of watching the credit bubble burst along with our “American Dream” knocked some sense into most people…for now.  We’ll bounce back from this; we always do.  I’m no economist, but I don’t see us going down the tubes financially – “us” as in our country.  So what will we have learned when all of this is over?

I am a ”non-traditional” student at a very high-falutin’ money-soaked university in the south.  (I’m surrounded by Republicans, but they haven’t cut their fangs yet, so I feel safe.)  Many of my peers are graduating this May, and the vast majority of them are going on to graduate or law school simply because they don’t know what else to do.  They can’t get a job in their field that they would enjoy, everyone needs more higher education in this age, they haven’t figured out what they want to be when they grow up…I want to tell them that NOW is the time to grow up (right??) but since when did a 22 year old ever take advice from anyone?

Whoever said that we had a right to get a job in our field that we enjoy and that pays six figures a year?  Where did that come from?  I’m sorry to burst another bubble, but that isn’t the American Dream, it’s the Impossible Dream.  And lets face it: you don’t want to just own your own car – you want a Lexus.  At least.  And as for owning your own home, it simply won’t be satisfactory without the granite countertops and golf-course view.  If you were truly trying to get back to the original American Dream, you’d build your own house out of sod and feel lucky that your kids got all the way through high school.

I know, I know…these are different times.  The world is more advanced, and all of that.  I get it – I’m not an idiot.  But my point is valid.  Even during this mind-boggling mess we’re in, people are still reaching way too far. 

I’ve had some neat conversations with kids graduating who are not going on to more school.  Their grand ideas involve traveling, bartending, having fun, moving around, and exploring their options for the next year or so.  Their parents aren’t happy about it for the most part, but I ask why not?  Oh, that I had taken a year right out of high school to work and travel and blow off steam.  I think it’s a fantastic idea. 

We’re growing up later and later.  “40 is the new 30″ isn’t where it stopped.  Twenty something is, in my observations, more like the teenage years.  We don’t really start to grow up until we’re in our late twenties/early thirties, and that’s OKAY.  Social evolution just keeps on truckin’ – 500 years ago girls were getting married and starting families in their teens; the life expectancy was also somewhere around twelve…(that isn’t true, but you know what I mean). 

My point is, why the rush?  Do you really want to be a lawyer?  Do you even know the misery you have to go through before/if you get to the Boston Legal fun part of it?  Then why are you throwing money after money, or, more appropriately, why are your parents throwing money after money?  What’s the point?

My advice?  Unless you’ve known what you wanted to do for years and your mind won’t change, or unless you’re one of the few who lands a dream job right out of college, just chill.  Take a job you can stand, weigh your options, and take your time.  The world isn’t going anywhere (and if it does then your dissatisfaction with life will be moot anyway).  Do some growing up.  Travel.  Spend time alone.  Relax for a little bit, and try to close your eyes whenever a new BMW passes you or you see that oh-my-God-I’ve-got-to-have-it purse in the window.  Really, that isn’t what the American Dream is about.  You want experiences and memories and lessons you’ve learned from.  That’s a dream worth pursuing.

Or maybe that’s just me.

So tonight when my husband began ordering me shots to calm my impending hysteria about life in general (which hits about every month or so), I really should have known.  I become immensely popular when I drink, and not because I’m a skank.  I am the most generous and loving and appreciative person when I drink.  I walk up to random people and compliment them just so that I might make their night a little better.  I become everyone’s best friend.  I console perfect strangers when their boyfriends dump them at clubs and make pinky swears that I will never, ever, ever forget this night or this newfound friendship with random people I meet while trying to flag down the bartender for another chilled raspberry vodka shot.  Lo and behold, within about two hours we’d had to pull three tables together to accommodate all of my new best friends.  What a night!  The first perfect afternoon and evening of the Spring to sit on a patio, a great band, decent munchies, and dollar shots.  Add to this the fact that three or four waiters getting cut throughout the night came to join us and that at one point they all stood to toast me, and I have to say it went a long, long way to raising my spirits. 

There are, at this moment, people reading this who think I am an alcoholic, that I’ll end up like Van Gogh or Beethoven wandering drunk through the narrow winding streets of Dallas, alone with wet trousers.  They are probably related to me and are planning an intervention.  I admit, it sounds sketchy.  But I’m not an alcoholic.  I’m just in my twenties, newly married, with no children.  And all I’m saying is that it doesn’t hurt once in awhile to just go let loose.  Besides, I promise I pay for it the next day.

Now if I can just remember which one was Yvonne and which was Roxy…

1)  STOP OBSESSING.  Stop reliving past mistakes and worrying about the future, and live in the now.  Stop worrying about what other people think.  Stop trying so hard.  Start accepting myself for who I am, faults and all.  Start seeing the good in myself rather than just the bad.   I have made very little progress here.

 
2)  Start celebrating the good stuff.  The little victories, the good days, the mornings I get up before my alarm goes off, the loving hearts of my friends, the open arms of my family, the excitements in my future to look forward to, the joy in productivity, the wonderful memories I have of my past, days when the ozone alert is at orange or below, sinking into a hot tub or a freshly made bed, cuddling my cats, and most of all – best of all – my amazing, utterly precious and infinitely patient husband.  Again, not really seeing much improvement.

3)  Apply myself.  To school, to my marriage, to having a better life and being a better, kinder person.  Stop making excuses and stop using the excuses others provide me.  Take responsibility for my actions, and accept the consequences or rewards those actions result in.  Strive for perfection (without obsessing over it, of course) and just DO MY BEST.  That’s all I can ask of myself.  Ah, now this one I think I’m doing better on.  Still needs some work, but I’m getting there.

4)  Stop being judgemental.  People are who they are, and what I think won’t change that.  Stop judging myself so harshly and others so lightly.  Attempt to stop gossiping as much as my self will allow (though I think I’ve come a LONG way in this already).  Try more to walk in other’s shoes.  Be more empathetic and kind.  Realize we’re all on a journey, that people are all just trying to get along as best as they can.  And to keep in mind that what bothers me most in others is usually what bothers me most about myself.  Okay, until I read this I thought I was doing well in this area, but one specific example came to mind immediately of where I’m not living up to this.  There’s a grudge that it’s time to let go of now.

5)  Have more fun!  I’m tired of feeling guilty for being young and acting young when I could be, say, doing laundry or balancing the checkbook.  I miss drunken Jenga.  I miss long talks with friends.  I miss the energy that being in a place filled with happy people brings.  I love seeing my husband laugh…he always makes me smile.  Be responsible, yes, but don’t feel guilty about blowing off some steam once in awhile.  Appreciate being alive and young and relatively healthy, not to mention living in the most priveleged (spoiled?) society ever.  Things could be so much worse, and probably will be at some point.  But today can be a good, fun day if I just put forth that effort.  Definite progress.  Going to school with all 18 – 22 year old’s will cure this quickly.  They’re so energetic and optimistic.  And energetic.  Happy, fun, and excited about life.  And energetic.

6)  Learn to cook five things to perfection.  I have some “go-to” recipes, but I’d like to be able to throw a dinner party on a whim without busting out Joy of Cooking.  Not even close.  It’s summer now, though, so I’ll have more time to work on this.  I’ve got the appetizer down; that’s about it.

7)  Save our money.  Good Lord, we’ve been hit hard over the last year.  And the hits just keep on coming.  They tell me that’s called “adulthood”…well, damn.  But I’d like a little emergency fund, and to rebuild our investments that we depleted over the last year (WEDDING).  And a little luck wouldn’t hurt, either…  This is going to skyrocket this summer when the peak season starts.  I anticipate great strides in this area.  All signs point to yes.

8)  Stain-proof our new apartment.  I love him to pieces, but the husband destroys carpet like it’s going out of style.  Just one of the perks of being married to a landscaper.  Have decided this is futile.  We’ll just resign ourselves to losing our deposit on every apartment and make sure to buy all wood floors when we get a house.  IF we get a house.

9)  Learn more about my husband’s Mexican heritage and brush up on my Spanish so that we can raise our children to be able to handle the shifting demographic in Texas especially.  Learn to embrace diversity and step out of my white bread world.  Does going out for Cinco de Mayo count?  No?  

10)  MOST IMPORTANT – focus more on my husband and my marriage.  In five years, in ten years, in forty years my life, my friends, my priorities and my dreams will alter drastically.  That’s life.  The only constant should be my husband.  And he deserves all of the best I can give him.  He’s the most special person I’ve ever met, with the purest heart and the happiest nature and the clearest conscience.  And he absolutely adores me.  I am the most blessed of wives, truly.  Just one more final, baby, and things will return to normal.  Whatever that is.

Laissez-faire markets have proven unreliable and ultimately fail.  On the other hand, purely ‘socialized’ (which doesn’t mean now what it used to – should be called a ‘welfare state’) economies, as we have seen in the USSR , etc., don’t work either.  Remember, it was only through governmental intervention with the FDR “brain trust” and its New Deal that pulled us out of the last depression…helped ultimately by WWII, but even when you look at it that way it’s still the gov’t spendingm money (on war) – spending OUR money.  This point is certainly debatable, but since it’s my blog I can say what I want to.     

Dear American liberals, leftists, social progressives, socialists, Marxists and Obama supporters, et al:
 
We have stuck together since the late 1950′s, but the whole of this latest election process has made me realize that I want a divorce.  I know we tolerated each other for many years for the sake of future generations, but sadly, this relationship has run its course. Our two ideological sides of America cannot and will not ever agree on what is right so let’s just end it on friendly terms.  We can smile and chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and go our own way.
 
Here is a model separation agreement:

P.S.  Also, please take Barbara Streisand & Jane Fonda with you.

So…this John. J. Wall guy’s party lost a presidential election and is facing a Democrat controlled legislature, and rather than campaign and get involved with his party’s action plan (which includes quite a bit of reform, by the way) he decided to send inflammatory emails urging people to cease participating in the political process.  AND he’s a law student.  ?

To take it point by point:

Our two groups can equitably divide up the country by landmass each taking a portion.  

We already tried this, buddy.  It’s called ‘secession’ and it leads to Civil War.  Yes, the GOP has made grand strides in the last 150 years.

You are welcome to the liberal judges and the ACLU.  

Why, thank you for giving us judicial review and protection of minority rights, although you seriously should consider keeping this since you are in the ever-shrinking political minority.

Since you hate guns and war, we’ll take our firearms, the cops, the NRA and the military.  

Yes, all liberals ‘hate guns and war,’ and none of us want law enforcement or national defense.  Again…you’re in law school??

You can keep…Rosie O’Donnell

Please, please no.  I’ll make you a deal.  You can keep her in one of your super secret torture chambers if you’ll take her off our hands.

We’ll keep the capitalism, greedy corporations, pharmaceutical companies, Wal-Mart and Wall Street.   We’ll keep the hot Alaskan hockey moms, greedy CEO’s and rednecks.  We’ll keep the Bibles and give you NBC and Hollywood .

So, you’ll keep greed, corruption, foreign enterprise over domestic production, and you’ll take care of the Wall Street bailout you initiated.  Thanks!  As for your reference to Sarah Palin, did you really think we would miss her?  Luckily Bibles can be reprinted and Hollywood will be off limits to conservatives.  Guess that sends you guys back to the days of shooting cans off of fence-posts since you won’t have cinematic diversion.  And if you give us NBC, can we please give you Fox News?

You can make nice with Iran and Palestine and we’ll retain the right to invade and hammer places that threaten us.  

Yes, because that’s worked so well in the last eight years.  Hammer on!

We’ll keep our Judeo-Christian values…  You are welcome to Islam, Scientology, Humanism and Shirley McClain.  You can also have the U.N.. but we will no longer be paying the bill.

Thank you for leaving us freedom of religion and an international treaty organization that, however inefficient, at least attempts to avert WWIII.  We will mourn your passing as you are taken over by other second and third world dictatorships since you will no longer have the protection of international allies.

You can give everyone healthcare if you can find any practicing doctors. We’ll continue to believe healthcare is a luxury and not a right.

Healthcare is a luxury.  How right you are!  Let’s see how long any of you can afford that luxury without insurance or governmental regulations that at least attempt to cap healthcare costs.  Oh, and for all of those conservative children out there who aren’t blessed with ‘luxury,’ if you can make it to our side via the underground railroad we will provide you with vaccinations and regular check-ups.

We’ll keep The Battle Hymn of the Republic and the National Anthem.

I’ll have to disagree with you here.  As the daughter of a Marine, if you take the Battle Hymn of the Republic I shall encourage above-mentioned civil war.  And since you are seceding from us, I believe that you need to come up with your own National Anthem.  I think it will consist mostly of keens and wails.

We’ll practice trickle down economics and you can give trickle up poverty your best shot..  Since it often so offends you, we’ll keep our history, our name and our flag.

Yes, please take trickle-down economics.  I’m not sure what ‘trickle up poverty’ is, but you’re the expert law student.  However, I’m not sure how we would manage to give you our history.  I ain’t no law student, but that seems pretty impossible.  Since you’re seceding, however, we would need to reduce the number of stars on our flag, so you would probably get away with taking the old one, however inaccurate it would be.

Would you agree to this?  If so, please pass it along to other like-minded liberal and conservative patriots and if you do not agree, just hit delete. In the spirit of friendly parting, I’ll bet you ANWAR which one of us will need whose help in 15 years.

I’ll take that bet.

Sincerely,

John J.  Wall
Law Student and an American (as opposed to the rest of us who are citizens of…um…I’m sorry, but is the answer America?  You would know better than I would.)

P.S.  Also, please take Barbara Streisand & Jane Fonda with you.

I’d be thrilled to take them!  Once they no longer have you to rail against, we can be left with one of the most legendary voices in the world and…well, Jane Fonda.  Maybe she can make more fitness tapes or something.

In short, Mr. Wall, I will happily agree to your conditions (except for the Anthem and the Hymn).  And I’m showing my support by not just simply forwarding this, but posting it on my blog for all the world to see. 

I do wonder, however, what law school you attend, as I always thought a modicum of intelligence and adherence to the Constitution were requirements for acceptance at most schools of law.  Then again, I’m merely an undergrad, so what do I know?