Somebody spork my brain... please...
I love my mother dearly, y'all know that, right?
I think I upset her today, though. Sometimes, it's not just my kids who try my patience.
*head-desk*
Poor Mom. Okay, there's this old friend of my dad's, a guy who he used to work in the oilfields with, and he keeps in contact with Mom basically by forwarding a lot of crap to her. You know, the "there's no such thing as global warming, it's a CONSPIRACY!!" and "Bush was a GREAT president, it's all a CONSPIRACY!!" and "universal healthcare is socialism in disguise, we'll all end up communist, IT'S A CONSPIRACY!!" and my personal favorite, "Obama's really a Muslim, and he's not American, IT'S A CONSPIRACY!!"
*sigh*
I used to kind of like him, in a distant, you're-a-friend-of-my-dad-so-I'll-be-polite-and-keep-my-real-opinion-to-myself sort of way, but now? I wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. Seriously.
Anyhow, Mom and I were chatting, and were about to get off the phone when Mom says, "Oh, Mr. Hopcraft (yes, that's how much I dislike him, I'm using his name) sent me this interesting email about Michelle Obama, want me to send it to you?"
I hesitated, then said, "Mom, if it's bigoted, or says they're not Americans, or says she's stealing milk money from kids or something, then no, I don't want to see it."
"Well, okay," she said, sounding amused, "but it's pretty funny, though I admit, I don't like it. It has me kind of upset, I mean, it's about her clothes, and if it's true, well... I just don't approve of it."
This didn't sound good, so I said, "Mom, I'm sure it's funny, but really, I'm not interested."
"Well, it's just, it shows her in these clothes, and they don't fit right, and they don't look good. I mean, she's in pants and they show her butt, and they show the crease and all, and it's just... not decent. Not proper. And... I don't think she should do that. I mean, she's representing our country..."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Mom, have you looked around to see how people dress now? I'm sure she's just reflecting styles of the people around her."
"She should have more dignity!"
"Mom, if they're pictures of her with her kids, then she can dress how she wants..."
"No, she's with foreign dignitaries! It's just not right!"
I sighed, then said, "Mom, if Mr. Hopcraft sent it, then you have to consider the source. He doesn't like President Obama. He's very conservative. And he's a bigot. I am sure that the person who cobbled that email together found all the shots of Michelle Obama's off-days, or the days where she was having a wardrobe malfunction, or those days that every woman has where she goes, omg, I can't believe I wore THESE pants, I wanted the OTHER navy pants, these are too tight, or oh, no, this skirt shrank in the wash, look, the hem is uneven now, and it won't lay right, and what the hell happened to the zipper?" I sighed. "I am sure there are a lot of photos like that, because the woman can't take two steps without cameras going off. If you take a bunch of those types of shots and throw them together, you can make the case that this is the way it is all the time. And the thing is, I've seen a lot of photos of Michelle Obama where she looked absolutely fabulous and was well put together."
"Well, the news certainly wouldn't show the bad shots, they might get in trouble," Mom said doubtfully.
"Or they might be too decent to do it," I countered. "Mom, I don't want to see that email. It's just going to make me cranky."
"You're already cranky," she said, sounding tearful, and of course that made me feel 2 inches tall.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I said finally. "Look, anything he sends you, you take it with a grain of salt. You already know how he feels, so you already know what slant he's going to put on things. Let's just take it as read that anything he sends you, you should not forward on to me unless you want me to write him back and set him straight."
"No, I don't want you to do that," she said. We talked for a few minutes more, then I had to get off the phone because I was so... frustrated and just wanted to... well, I'm sure you can guess. The man is 86 or 87 years old, and pretty set in his ways, and you know what? What he thinks doesn't matter a hill of beans to me. It only matters that it upsets my mom enough that she wants me to see it, too, and I personally don't want to clutter up my mental hard drive with his drivel. And I don't want it making me snap at my mom when the person who really and truly deserves it is two states away and unable to hear my snarls.
Mr. Hopcraft? Take your hate mails, fold 'em into sharp corners, and stuff them up your rectal oubliette!!
I think I upset her today, though. Sometimes, it's not just my kids who try my patience.
*head-desk*
Poor Mom. Okay, there's this old friend of my dad's, a guy who he used to work in the oilfields with, and he keeps in contact with Mom basically by forwarding a lot of crap to her. You know, the "there's no such thing as global warming, it's a CONSPIRACY!!" and "Bush was a GREAT president, it's all a CONSPIRACY!!" and "universal healthcare is socialism in disguise, we'll all end up communist, IT'S A CONSPIRACY!!" and my personal favorite, "Obama's really a Muslim, and he's not American, IT'S A CONSPIRACY!!"
*sigh*
I used to kind of like him, in a distant, you're-a-friend-of-my-dad-so-I'll-be-polite-and-keep-my-real-opinion-to-myself sort of way, but now? I wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. Seriously.
Anyhow, Mom and I were chatting, and were about to get off the phone when Mom says, "Oh, Mr. Hopcraft (yes, that's how much I dislike him, I'm using his name) sent me this interesting email about Michelle Obama, want me to send it to you?"
I hesitated, then said, "Mom, if it's bigoted, or says they're not Americans, or says she's stealing milk money from kids or something, then no, I don't want to see it."
"Well, okay," she said, sounding amused, "but it's pretty funny, though I admit, I don't like it. It has me kind of upset, I mean, it's about her clothes, and if it's true, well... I just don't approve of it."
This didn't sound good, so I said, "Mom, I'm sure it's funny, but really, I'm not interested."
"Well, it's just, it shows her in these clothes, and they don't fit right, and they don't look good. I mean, she's in pants and they show her butt, and they show the crease and all, and it's just... not decent. Not proper. And... I don't think she should do that. I mean, she's representing our country..."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Mom, have you looked around to see how people dress now? I'm sure she's just reflecting styles of the people around her."
"She should have more dignity!"
"Mom, if they're pictures of her with her kids, then she can dress how she wants..."
"No, she's with foreign dignitaries! It's just not right!"
I sighed, then said, "Mom, if Mr. Hopcraft sent it, then you have to consider the source. He doesn't like President Obama. He's very conservative. And he's a bigot. I am sure that the person who cobbled that email together found all the shots of Michelle Obama's off-days, or the days where she was having a wardrobe malfunction, or those days that every woman has where she goes, omg, I can't believe I wore THESE pants, I wanted the OTHER navy pants, these are too tight, or oh, no, this skirt shrank in the wash, look, the hem is uneven now, and it won't lay right, and what the hell happened to the zipper?" I sighed. "I am sure there are a lot of photos like that, because the woman can't take two steps without cameras going off. If you take a bunch of those types of shots and throw them together, you can make the case that this is the way it is all the time. And the thing is, I've seen a lot of photos of Michelle Obama where she looked absolutely fabulous and was well put together."
"Well, the news certainly wouldn't show the bad shots, they might get in trouble," Mom said doubtfully.
"Or they might be too decent to do it," I countered. "Mom, I don't want to see that email. It's just going to make me cranky."
"You're already cranky," she said, sounding tearful, and of course that made me feel 2 inches tall.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I said finally. "Look, anything he sends you, you take it with a grain of salt. You already know how he feels, so you already know what slant he's going to put on things. Let's just take it as read that anything he sends you, you should not forward on to me unless you want me to write him back and set him straight."
"No, I don't want you to do that," she said. We talked for a few minutes more, then I had to get off the phone because I was so... frustrated and just wanted to... well, I'm sure you can guess. The man is 86 or 87 years old, and pretty set in his ways, and you know what? What he thinks doesn't matter a hill of beans to me. It only matters that it upsets my mom enough that she wants me to see it, too, and I personally don't want to clutter up my mental hard drive with his drivel. And I don't want it making me snap at my mom when the person who really and truly deserves it is two states away and unable to hear my snarls.
Mr. Hopcraft? Take your hate mails, fold 'em into sharp corners, and stuff them up your rectal oubliette!!