What happened that night...

The night started out with me standing under the horse statue on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Congress Parkway, discussing (at volume, 'cause I'm loud like that) the ridiculous anatomical correctness of the horse's nether regions, while an indie reporter behind me tried to conduct an interview about the historic nature of the evening's proceedings.

Hey, what's ground-breaking history without some obnoxious chick in the background yelling about horse cock?

After that, we shuffled through three different security checkpoints in waves of frantic (and generally polite) Obama supporters. Then through the metal detectors, into a sea of milling and standing people who were all buzzing with excitement over the expected results of the election. CNN was playing on the Jumbotron, Wolf Blitzer recounting results as polls started to close and numbers started trickling in. Projection after projection, broken up by discussion of the Democratic Revolution, or the Generational Shift in Politics, or other equally relevant features of the landscape in American Government. James Carville, oh, how I've missed ye! (He might be on CNN every night, for all I know....I don't have cable.)

I was pleased to see that when CNN cut to commercial, the Jumbotron went to a screensaver and music blared over the loudspeakers. I would've ranted at significant length if they'd run ads at this kind of rally. Phew!

A beachball popped up from somewhere and was batted around the park. When CNN showed the waiting crowd at the park, we all looked out for the cameras, and screamed like lunatics. Time passed; CNN called a few states for McCain - no surprises, and the huge crowd booed anyway.

Then, Wolf Blitzer announced that the polls were about to close in California. Obama, per CNN projections, was at 225 (I think), and the guy behind me says that we'd still need Florida even if California went blue. I turn to him and, using my advanced arithmetic skills, let him know that if Cali goes to Obama, it's over. A countdown clock flashes up on the Jumbotron, as CNN counts down to the last polls closing. The crowd chants along with the numbers.... five.... four... three.... two.... one.

The screen has some kind of explosion graphic, and giant letters scream "CNN PROJECTION: OBAMA WINS!" or something like that. I don't remember it precisely because my brain short-circuited and I was screaming - not yelling, not shouting, screaming at the top of my not inconsiderable lungs. I didn't stop for several minutes.

There were several minutes of excitement - CNN showed Oprah, various crowd reactions, and the iconic shot of Jesse Jackson. It reminded me of his presidential run in 1988, and how I had (at ten years old) much preferred him to Dukakis. I can only imagine how amazing that moment was for him, and I hope he recognizes how much his efforts have contributed to Obama's success now, and I hope he feels vindicated and appreciated and loved. 'Cause I love me some Jesse Jackson.

Then, they showed McCain's concession speech. I was by turns disgusted and encouraged. I saw glimpses in that speech of the man I used to respect, of the John McCain I considered an honorable enemy. I don't know that he'll ever get back my respect, but I hope he really can abandon the divisive rhetoric of the campaign and really get behind President Obama in making this country, and this world, a better place.

Shortly thereafter, they cut CNN and played a pre-recorded segment about the campaign, and how it was all about the people in the trenches and on the ground. The phrase "community organizer" flitted through my head several times. It was a lovely video....and then we got to listen to music for awhile, and stand around wondering what the lineup of speakers would be.

A roadie (do they call them that in politics?) came out and did the last of five or six soundchecks. He said, "Final soundcheck for the next president of the United States," and the crowd lost its collective shit. I cried for the first of many times.

A little while later, there was a prayer from a Reverend of some stripe. It was actually pretty open for a prayer, but one of these days, I'd like to see a truly inclusive blessing at a big political function; something that allows people of all faiths (and no faith) to support the sentiment of a benediction, without having to pay homage to Jesus.

A lovely woman came out and butchered the Star Spangled Banner. I know I'm biased, not only as a singer, but as someone who has sung this particular song for various events, messing up the national anthem happens - sometimes you forget a word, sometimes you mix up a line, it just happens. But. At the fucking victory rally for the next goddamned President of the nation for which the song is the anthem, maybe you sneak a crib sheet onto the fucking podeum so you can get the words right, hey?

And then......then....there he was. Michelle was there, and the girls, and it was the new first fucking family, and it was amazing. After a few minutes of unrepentant cheering, he spoke. I called my sister in Michigan, and put her on speaker so she could listen with me. We were both crying, and I was yelling every now and then, juggling the phone and my camera back and forth. The whole field (felt like the whole world) yelled "Yes we can!" right on cue as he recounted some history, reminding us just how far we've come as a nation...and reminding us obliquely how far we have yet to go.

As the ridiculous crowd left the park when he was done, people were crying and shouting and dancing and singing and carrying signs and celebrating. One dude was high-fiving everyone he met walking along Michigan Avenue. Near the Art Institute, someone had set up a boombox and people were dancing in a huge clump under the watchful eyes of sixty gajillion Chicago cops. Folks were hawking photos and buttons and shirts and towels (hoopy!) every ten steps. I walked slowly, enjoying the undeniable energy of excitement and hope and connection. People were smiling and laughing and dancing and cavorting and connecting, and it was glorious to behold.

At Lake Street, I turned and headed for the Red Line, where I waited for something like six trains before my claustrophobic ass found one non-crowded enough to get on. I rode next to a young white dude with blazing red hair, who was basically harassing a couple black college kids (who were totally handling him beautifully), somehow presuming some kind of connection based on the fact that he'd voted for Obama. When he eventually got off the train, the college kids had one of the most interesting discussions about race and identity politics and privelege that I've ever heard, and I wondered how much of that was because there were no white people talking.

A posse of cops greeted me on the el platform when I got off the train, and another blocked the street below. I'm not sure what to make of that, but I made it home finally.

I'm sure I'm leaving stuff out, but this is what I remember now. I wish I'd had more than a day to get used to the new camera....but I got some relatively decent shots, which you can see here.

I'm hopeful today, and hopeful that that feeling will last. I've been playing "Somewhere Different Now" by Girlyman today, and these lyrics are sticking with me:

Now I don't mind saying, I believe in the waiting
In the visions of grandeur, and the random encounter
I'm not on fire, not burned out
Just somewhere different now

Yeah.

Seen in Chicago.

(click to see full size)

Saw this modified ad on the way home from work the other day. It made me happy. And also made me want to carry around electrical tape for my own ad mods...hmmm...

Facebook ads.

Okay, the ones telling me that two of my friends think they're smarter than me? Kind of hilarious. The ones telling me that two of my friends have crushes on me? Transparent. The ones telling me that my friends think I'm fat? Infuriating.

First off, my friends don't *think* I'm fat, they fucking well know it. Because they've seen me, and it's one of my harder-to-miss visual qualities. Also because I say it, not in a sheepish or apologetic way, but in a matter-of-fact, in-touch-with-physical-reality kinda way. 'Cause, you know, I AM FAT.

What pisses me off about this ad is that it's not really saying "your friends think you're fat," it's really saying "your friends think you're a gluttonous loser who's about to drop dead of a heart attack, who smells funny, who isn't worthy of love or sex," yada yada all the other crap that the word "fat" is shorthand for. And it's implying that your *friends* think all this stuff - so imagine what people who aren't your friends must think!

Conveniently, these ads offer a solution right next to this horrifying revelation. A slide bar that you're supposed to use to find your current weight, and then it will tell you how much weight you should lose, and conveniently directing you to some diet plan or other. (I don't know which; I didn't click.) There's no slidebar to input your cholesterol or blood sugar or activity levels or height or frame size or genetic predispositions or any of that stuff....because apparently there's only one ideal weight for all people everywhere, and finding that perfect weight is the key to your friends not thinking you're fat (which is apparently important?).

I have sadly enjoyed a lot of Facebook-based distraction at work, and I genuinely think it's a useful tool. It's bad enough I have to see sixty thousand mentions of Oprah's new acai berry diet ad nauseum, but to have such blatantly manipulative ads that probably push a lot of people's buttons, and maybe aren't clear in that they aren't actually based on some mystery poll all your friends took or something....gods, it just infuriates me. More than usual.

The weekend was a black hole of motherfucking suck, and I am going to be processing for awhile. This saddens me, and leaves me no spare thoughtspace to pontificate on the ills of the world; my heart is creaking for more personal reasons today.

Lucky for me, other people are saying insightful things, though. For example, there's the Women of Color and Beauty Carnival at Yennenga, which is seriously worth reading. I also liked this rant about torture, from John Buell via Common Dreams. Also exciting: Connecticut's steps to make solar power more accessible to the masses! I also liked the Anti-Advertising Agency's take down of a travel ad.

Then, of course, there's this pile of horse shit that purports to defend GMO crops and by extension agribusiness. I read it over and was too pissed to properly dress it down, but in summary:

If a new product's characteristics are attractive and the price is right, it succeeds in the marketplace, stimulating still more innovation. Ironically, some of Prince Charles's own organically produced vegetables failed this test: so deformed and repulsive to look at, they were not marketable and had to be given to local schools.

...that is bullshit. That framing of success only applies if your goal is to make a profit. If your goal is to properly nourish people with actual real live food, all the while NOT destroying the planet....well, then, maybe GMO crops aren't quite so damn fabulous.

Marketing in the Office.

As I often mention (is my guilt transparent?), I work in a cubicle for a big giant corporation. In addition to the paycheck and health insurance, this also earns me perks like riding elevators and getting to say I "work downtown" "in a skyscraper" whenever I am talking to people from high school. (Petty? Mois? Non!)

Also, it makes me a captive audience for massive amounts of marketing. (Because it's not enough for ads to plaster everywhere outside the office - must get inside, too!) My company junk mails me offers for home and auto insurance (I own neither house nor car), I get telemarketed at work by investment firms and loan companies (isn't my name red-flagged somewhere as a virulent anti-capitalist?!), and then there are the Weight Watchers ads all the fuck over the office. Every door, every bulletin board, pasted with posters telling me how much diets suck, and why don't I try one? I mean, seriously, am I ready to lose? Am I? Huh?! AM I?!?!

I tear them down often.

Today's batch of bullshit was more annoying and illogical than usual. It was a mass e-mail from our Benefits Department, touting the weight loss focused "Positive Directions" wellness program. An excerpt:

Eating because something’s eating you?

If chocolate, cake or a bag of chips has become your “friend” when you’re stressed or anxious, you may be an emotional eater. It’s likely you’ve been conditioned to turn to food for comfort if it makes you feel better.

If you eat because of emotions, keep a food journal of what you eat, when you eat and why you eat. To help break the habit of emotional eating, find other things to do, such as walking around the block, taking a bike ride or playing with the kids. Check out the poster below for some other weight loss tips.

Okay, number one...they used the word "may," which is the first sign of stinky bullshit.

Number two...I think finding different ways to handle emotions than knee-jerk eating is great (although I don't necessarily think all emotional eating is bad, either - moderation and all); but maybe they could also drop in something about counseling, or help in case people think they might have an eating disorder? Sheesh.

Number three...I love the way there's an assumption that *if* I'm an emotional eater, I must be fat and/or need to lose weight. Right there at the end - it says to check out the attached poster for *more* "weight loss tips." Ummmm....if I'm an emotional eater, maybe what I need is some counseling and perhaps treatment for disordered eating? Maybe losing weight wouldn't magically make the emotional eating part go away?!

My favorite part of today's dose of marketing genius, however, was the part where they reward you if you go through the "weight loss module" of the "Wellness Program." You get $75 in a healthcare spending account, to use on any covered medical expenses!!

Wait, when you lose weight, don't all your health problems magically disappear? Why would someone who's lost weight need *extra* money for medical expenses?! (Especially when preventive care is covered at 100%, so it's only interventive care that would be involved....hmmmm...)

I continue to be frustrated with the way this shit works.

May. (or may not)

Jamie Lee Curtis says that Activia "may help regulate your digestive system in two weeks" - studies have proven it!

Coffee may be linked to cancer. Ditto on cell phones and microwaves.

Today, I stumbled over the headline "Women may be more attracted to men with a little stubble." (I like the place it was published, so I'm not going to link it, I'm just going to mock it.)

Oh they may, may they?

You know what? Coffee may turn steel wool into golden fleece. Wearing Berks may increase the size of my bank account. Knowing the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" may be the key to eternal salvation and/or universal enlightenment.

Then again, all that may be total bullshit.

Do people not understand that the word "may" does not actually indicate anything definite? I mean, seriously, Activia may regulate your digestive system, or it may make your nipples sprout fur. Women may be attracted to stubble, or they may prefer to romp through rainbow forests with unicorns that shoot sunshine and rose petals right out their asses! Either statement would be equally valid!! When they say "may," what they're telling you is that THEY DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW FOR SURE, and whatever they're selling you is based on FUCK ALL.

So, please, don't buy it. It's meaningless.

FUotD, plus bonus Canada love.

Hey, Burger King: FUCK YOU!

Oh, and how much does Quebec freakin' rock? If - by some foul circumstance - we don't wind up with a Democrat in the White House next January...Canada is looking better and better...