A Pool Hustler's Daughter grows up in subterranean America. She dreams big, hustles daily and loves her Daddy. With empathy, fascination and grace she navigates and inhabits every tier of society; sees beauty and hope and magic in all things; respects and lives by the "mitzvah."
A Pool Hustler's Daughter calculates the trifecta payout at the racetrack, hides money on three parts of her body, has an arsenal of "Uncles," and keeps a baseball bat by the front door. She values friendship, loyalty and experiences over "things." Like her father, she seeks to learn "The secrets of the universe" and believes "Life ain't on the square." She applauds the self-made and those who learn to "overcome" their circumstances. Her door is always open for a sofa to sleep on, a hot meal, or an eager listener for a life story.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Election Day Rant
Always the same (very sane) thoughts on Election Day: 1. Why didn't I early vote? 2. Why aren't there more than two Presidential Candidates? 3. Why aren't either of these Presidential Candidates a woman? 4. Why aren't both Presidential Candidates women? 5. My boyfriend dumped me on election night and he can suck it and I hope he has to wait in line a really long time to vote today and had a sleepless night trying to decide on a candidate that he can speak intellectually enough about at cocktail parties and the "totally unique" reason he chose that candidate (to bedazzle young women and because he is too cool to follow any crowd) and then he misses an important phone call at work because his IPHONE fell in the toilet again while he tried to jerk off in the Waffle House bathroom stall (again)and for having not been in the office to receive this call, so he could vote(the phone call was from Warner Brothers saying they were going to greenlight his Documentary film on clowns that crochet), he actually gets fired for going to vote and then his car breaks down on the side of a country road where he is taken prisoner by a group of right-wing lunatics/Ned Beatty fans who leave him in the front of the polling place "a real man"(Double Entendre intended) with a confederate flag tattooed on his forehead as a super white white boy in "the wrong side of town" and the seventy year old school teacher/Polling Superintendent tells him his Drivers License has expired and he can't vote, and that she is almost certain he lied about how tall he is on it and that she could send him to jail for that, so he takes the bus (because he thinks he should be "green") - at least on election day, even though he has a hundred thousand dollar sports car sitting in his garage at home - to his office to find another form of id, where he just got fired, but there is just a box of his stuff sitting on a stoop, like a picture of him and Charles Barkley, matches from the old Rainbo Room in New York City, a wedding invitation he never RSVPd to and a lottery ticket that he swore to the Lottery Commission was a winner and he had it and lost it, but they didn't like his cocky attitude and gave the money to someone else(a significantly better human being); and last but not least his computer which has a Post-it note on it that says "This computer is FILTHY! You're a dirty little piggy!(FYI u have my #)" Still desperate to vote, a stoned teenager on an electric bike named Dwight tells him he can make him a fake id so he can vote today, but it will cost him a hundred bucks, so he follows this kid by running alongside him while he bikes and starts to feel really good for a guy in his forties and that he is in such good shape that he can keep up with the kid. When he gets to the farmhouse where the kid quickly takes a picture of him with his camera phone but with a bandana around his forehead to hide the confederate flag tattoo, the kid starts to print out the fake id, with his "correct" height, and while it is printing, the printer runs out of colored toner and he starts to smell smoke and the teenager says"Shit, Old Man, there's a meth lab in the back and it's probably going to explode" which it does, and he finds himself back on a country road covered in soot and all of his hair which he once thought was gorgeous all having burned off, and he walks sadly, back to the polling place and shows the Old Lady/Superintendent his fake photo id which is very blurry due to lack of toner, and instead of admitting she has to buy reading glasses, approves his form of id and allows him to vote. He painfully limps to the polling booth, bleeding, third degree burns blistering, an ugly tattoo on his forehead, now unemployed, banned from both playing the lottery and/or entering a Waffle House(Bob Evans would have to do now) and casts his vote. After mulling it over for some time, the clock about to strike seven pm, he finally decides on a write in candidate. That girl he dumped on Election night so very long ago. He smiles remembering her screaming "God will punish you for this one day." That girl made a promise and delivered. Calm and content with his decision, smiling, he kindly asks the Little Old Lady/Voting Superintendent, grinning, chuckling, recalling all of that girl's, ahem, screams, "Miss, mind telling me where the nearest public restroom is?"
"Tell me, the dream , again..." "Well, it's night, and New York is particularly quiet. It's not necessarily late at...