The Random Rants, Raves and Reflections of an Involuntarily Rusticated Lady Pundit
"Don't get your knickers in a twist!"
Are you kidding?
My knickers are always in a twist about something -- and usually many things: politics, parenthood, autism, the politics of parenthood in the turbocharged salad spinner that is autism....
My undies couldn't crease less in response to mere partisans of one stripe or the other, but they spontaneously bunch at the thought of knee-jerks across the board, whether they are reflexively demonizing some of the most triumphant features of American life (free trade, racial diversity, merit-based elites) or waxing nostalgic for some of the most dubious (O for those halcyon days when Dad got to spend decades faceless on the factory floor and Mom had no line of credit.)
No self-respecting undergarment could help but shred itself at the total pass people get on the most basic facts of history, even -- no, especially -- when those people talk on TV. (Calling all cable pundits: no, ours is not "the most divided time ever in America." You see, we once had something called the Civil War...) And don't get me started on the perverse fashionability of female sleevelessness in winter; the certifiably insane ratio of cameras to Kardashians; the shamelessly pervasive use of the word "impact" as a verb, even if it does now appear that way in the dictionary.
Anyway, long ago when the earth was green, the Donald was not quite so orange, and I wrote for a living, my work allowed me to straighten out my thoughts and my bloomers on a regular basis. It is my admittedly-modest aspiration that this blog will do the same.