Tag Archives: Joe Biden

Ohio, Meet Your Newest Resident!

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Remember when this was the election refrain heard coast to coast?

Florida, Florida, Florida!

Well, if you ask me, nowadays the refrain has changed a bit. So, instead of the Sunshine State, it’s the Buckeye State you hear about 24/7.

Ohio, Ohio, Ohio!

Which is why, I’m moving to Ohio.  After all, a gal like me likes a little attention now and then. And, what better place to get it, than Oh-HI-Oh, home of the Cincinnati Reds, America’s first professional baseball team, and where the official state rock song is, “Hang on Sloopy.”

Well, Sloopy, move over. From now on, if anyone’s doing the hanging in Ohio, it’s gonna be me.

Because being from Ohio means hailing from the number one SWING state in the land. It’s going to give me a lot of cache with the politicos, if you know what I mean. The powers that be. The grand poobahs, and all that.

In other words, I’m heading there to find out what it feels like to be wined and dined by none other than President Barack Obama and Governor Mitt Romney. We’re going to trip the light fantastic and dance the night away!

So, my bags are packed, my flight is booked, and I’m ready to go. From now on—or until Election Day, whichever comes first—my days will be filled with pep rallies, town hall meetings, community dialogues, a slew of robocalls, and watching a gazillion political ads all aimed at moi, an Ohioan from way back. And, by way back I mean today.

I better get a day planner so I can be sure to organize my schedule, which is going to be as full as Scarlett O’Hara’s dance card at the Confederate Ball. After all, I don’t want to miss any photo ops with the candidates, any pie-eating contests with Paul Ryan, arm wrestling with Joe Biden, shopping sprees with Ann Romney, or planting a Victory Garden with the First Lady.  And that’s just for starters!

After that, Ann and I will friend each other on Facebook, have a good laugh at the women on The View, for daring to expect the Romney’s to appear on their show. And, Michelle and I will exchange recipes for Stuffed Zucchini and Spicy Eggplant Salad. She’s a healthy eater, you know! Then, we’ll tease the president until he serenades us with another tune from the seventies. Or not.

I imagine that this is how Ohioans are spending their days, volleying from one political event to the next, accepting bribes—I mean, gifts—from the candidates, such as free pizza, submarine sandwiches, and attending free Bruce Springsteen concerts.

Yes, I’m going to just love being courted by both sides of the political aisle. Maybe I’ll even get to be on TV, when I ask the candidates the question that’s on every Ohioan’s lips. The elephant-and/or-donkey-in-the-room question, which goes like this:

“Which do you prefer, Akron or Cleveland?”

Sure, it’s all fun and games until Election Day approaches and then, just like that, they force you to pick one. Ever wonder why the undecideds take so long to decide? Because, just like me, they enjoy being courted. That’s why!

So, please don’t make me pick just one. Not just yet, anyway. I mean, can’t we keep the “love affair” going and postpone Election Day another six months? Puh-lease??

For everyone knows, that once it’s over, it’s over. The die is cast, and all that. And, if you ask me, breaking is up is hard to do. When the day comes, when all the votes are tallied, then every Ohioan will become little more than a wallflower. Unwanted and ignored—until 2016, that is. So, until then, we’ll be going back to our former, ordinary lives, back when we weren’t so darn special.

Back when we were just 11,544,951 ordinary Ohioans, minding our own business.

Make that 11,544,950.

For, after the elections, I’ll be packing up my bags and heading back to California. After all, I know where I’m not wanted.

In the Hot Seat

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Uh-oh. Someone’s in the hot seat, and I think you know who I’m talking about.

But, if you ask me, I don’t know what the big deal is. There’s nothing strange about talking to a chair. After all, it’s not as if I’ve never done that.

Clint Eastwood talks to a chair at the Republican National Convention.

So, Clint Eastwood, I understand. You bet, I get it. Go ahead and talk to the chair as if it’s President Obama, like you did last night at the Republican convention. You were in top form, if I say so myself. Almost as menacing as you were in Dirty Harry when you went after the bad guys and refused to play by the rules. And, just about as curmudgeonly as you were in Gran Torino, after the Hmong moved into your neighborhood.

So, why talk to the hand, when you can talk to the chair? In fact, after you’re done, do me a favor and come on over to my place. I’ve got a sofa that thinks its FDR, and a coffee table that’s channeling Joe Biden.

For, the other day, my sofa, which has certainly seen better days, said to me, as I arrived home from work,

“You have nothing to fear, but fear itself.”

I turned around to see to whom he was talking to, as I didn’t think it was me. After all, I wasn’t feeling particularly fearful about anything. But, then I realized he must have known I had an important deadline approaching at work and was feeling rather fearful I wouldn’t make it.

Before I could reply, Biden, the coffee table, saw that I had in my hands a model car, a replica of a car my father once drove, that my brother had sent me (an early birthday gift) and, in no uncertain terms said,

“You didn’t build that.”

Of course, I knew that. I’m all thumbs when it comes to building anything, but my brother did build it from a kit he had purchased, gluing all the pieces together himself. And yes, I suppose, he couldn’t have built it without having the purchased parts provided by the manufacturer, so one could say, it was a group effort. It takes a village, after all.

Had I had a hand in it, I’m sure the engine would have ended up in the trunk.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, my footstool, House Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi, exclaimed,

“Forward!”

I assume she was referring to President Obama’s new slogan. Still, it startled me into jumping, well, forward. And it’s a good thing too, because just then, Henry, my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, had come from behind, aiming for my legs and I would surely have lost my footing and landed on top of Nancy, had it not been for her strategic warning.

Speaker of the House, John Boehner, the floor lamp, chuckled. “Lucky you didn’t fall and need some of that Obamacare we’re going to repeal.”

To which I replied, “I think your bulb is out.”

“Still,” he insisted, “The last thing you need is to be sidelined by a fall, not with that deadline you have at the office.”

To which Joe Biden, the coffee table, interjected,

“It’s a war on women!”

“Hey, Joe,” I responded. “I think the war on women refers to something else, not me having a collision with my dog.”

My throw rug, Sarah Palin, looked at Joe askance, and asked,

“So, how’s that hope and change stuff working for you?”

“You know I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Sarah,” Joe replied.

“We can do better!” shouted Presidential Nominee Mitt Romney, aka, the step stool leaning against the kitchen pantry. “It is not what we were promised!”

To which, Nancy replied,  “Look at the facts, Mitt.”

At which point, a fight among all my furniture ensued and I couldn’t help but wonder where I’d left Rodney King, my ironing board, earlier that day as I was getting ready for work. Oh, that’s right. Upstairs in the linen closet, where I’m pretty sure I could hear his muffled voice give a sigh and say,

“Can’t we all just get along?”

And that was when, FDR, the sofa repeated, “You have nothing to fear but fear itself!”

And then, it hit me. The sofa was right.