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mallorys_cameraI guess you can’t take me anywhere.
Or rather, you can take me.
But you can’t always rely on me to act in a socially acceptable manner when I get there.
###
Pat and Ed had L and I over for poppyseed cake last night. A tiny celebration for Ed’s 70th birthday.
The conversation turned to politics. Never a safe topic.
All four of us loathe Trump. Where we differ is in what could have been done to prevent his election.
Ed thinks more people could have voted for Hillary Clinton.
I think the Democratic Party could have nominated a better candidate.
“There was no way I was going to vote for her,” I added.
“Oh, come on,” said Ed.
“I’m serious,” I said. “As a feminist, I find her reprehensible.”
“What are you talking about? You find the first woman to launch a serious campaign for the Presidency reprehensible to you as a feminist?”
“What do you think of Harvey Weinstein?” I asked.
“Who? That sleazy Hollywood guy? He’s creepy.”
“And what do you think about Bill Clinton?”
Ed snorted. “Oh, I see. You’re drawing an analogy. It’s a false analogy: Bill Clinton may have dicked around, but his liaisons were consensual.”
“Not if you ask Juanita Broderick.”
Ed snorted again.
“Oh, I see,” I said. “You believe Rose McGowan because she’s an actress, and she used to be hot, but you don’t believe Juanita Broderick because she was one of those big-boned, big-haired nobody ladies from the flyover, so she couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. It’s the Babe Factor at work!”
“Even if I did believe her – which I don’t – what does that have to do with Hillary Clinton?”
“Hillary Clinton went after Bill’s accusers like a maenad!”
“Like a what?”
“Like a bat out of hell! Like a rabid lioness!”
“Well, of course. She was defending her family. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same thing in that situation?”
“I would have left him,” I said.
“Well. You’re not her. Maybe she loves the guy,” said Ed.
“I think if you remain in that kind of situation after you understand all that it entails, then you’re enabling the situation. As a feminist, I find it appalling when women enable men’s mistreatment of other women.”
“Okay,” Ed said. “Let’s say the entire 2016 election is coming down to just one vote. And that vote is yours. Your vote will decide the Presidency! Would you vote for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton?”
“Just my vote?” I said. “Will I be on television or something while I’m casting this vote?”
“Absolutely.”
“What if I want to abstain?”
“You can’t abstain. You have to vote.”
“Can you have Andy Cohen interview me? Or would it have to be Anderson Cooper?”
“You can be interviewed by whoever you want.”
“Would there be a big cake with my name on it? And balloons? And confetti?”
“You’re avoiding the question. Who would you vote for?”
“Well, I wouldn’t vote for Hillary Clinton,” I said.
Ed narrowed his eyes and looked angry. “Then you are personally responsible for the election of Donald Trump. You. Thanks a lot.”
“Happy birthday, Ed,” I said.
And got up and left his house.
###
This was not that major an incident: I was actually looking for an excuse to leave. I hadn’t been in a particularly sociable mood last night in the first place; it had only been an oppressive sense of neighborly obligation that impelled me across the road.
Plus if I’d really committed a serious social faux pas, L would have lectured me about it.
She didn’t.
Instead, when she came back, she bounced on my bed for 45 minutes, regaling me with the latest goings on with the Hyde Park town council. Seems like they want to build an enormous hotel complex in the old deserted strip mall at the intersection of Pine Woods Road and Highway 9. I can’t imagine that would be anything but a disaster: Yes, Hyde Park has the Vanderbilt Mansion and the FDR Library, but I think you do the one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. And then you drive home. Or on to another station of your vacation processional.
###
Something Caro said to me this afternoon made me realize that Caro dislikes L. Considers her a fussy, interfering old lady.
This came as a shock.
L seems so eminently likable to me.
“She kept saying, ‘I’m going to call the voting board about your registration,’ and I kept saying, ‘You don’t have to call the voting board about my registration. I know I'm registered.’ And this went on and on and on. Like for half an hour!” Caro complained.
“Well, you know, Caro,” I said, “L is close to 80. And people’s worlds kind of shrink when they get old. They have so little influence over the world at large that they like to exert absolute control over the things they think they can influence.”
And it’s gonna happen to you, too, beayatch, if you’re lucky enough to live that long! I wanted to add.
But didn’t.
One episode of outrageously rude behavior per week is my limit.
Or rather, you can take me.
But you can’t always rely on me to act in a socially acceptable manner when I get there.
###
Pat and Ed had L and I over for poppyseed cake last night. A tiny celebration for Ed’s 70th birthday.
The conversation turned to politics. Never a safe topic.
All four of us loathe Trump. Where we differ is in what could have been done to prevent his election.
Ed thinks more people could have voted for Hillary Clinton.
I think the Democratic Party could have nominated a better candidate.
“There was no way I was going to vote for her,” I added.
“Oh, come on,” said Ed.
“I’m serious,” I said. “As a feminist, I find her reprehensible.”
“What are you talking about? You find the first woman to launch a serious campaign for the Presidency reprehensible to you as a feminist?”
“What do you think of Harvey Weinstein?” I asked.
“Who? That sleazy Hollywood guy? He’s creepy.”
“And what do you think about Bill Clinton?”
Ed snorted. “Oh, I see. You’re drawing an analogy. It’s a false analogy: Bill Clinton may have dicked around, but his liaisons were consensual.”
“Not if you ask Juanita Broderick.”
Ed snorted again.
“Oh, I see,” I said. “You believe Rose McGowan because she’s an actress, and she used to be hot, but you don’t believe Juanita Broderick because she was one of those big-boned, big-haired nobody ladies from the flyover, so she couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. It’s the Babe Factor at work!”
“Even if I did believe her – which I don’t – what does that have to do with Hillary Clinton?”
“Hillary Clinton went after Bill’s accusers like a maenad!”
“Like a what?”
“Like a bat out of hell! Like a rabid lioness!”
“Well, of course. She was defending her family. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same thing in that situation?”
“I would have left him,” I said.
“Well. You’re not her. Maybe she loves the guy,” said Ed.
“I think if you remain in that kind of situation after you understand all that it entails, then you’re enabling the situation. As a feminist, I find it appalling when women enable men’s mistreatment of other women.”
“Okay,” Ed said. “Let’s say the entire 2016 election is coming down to just one vote. And that vote is yours. Your vote will decide the Presidency! Would you vote for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton?”
“Just my vote?” I said. “Will I be on television or something while I’m casting this vote?”
“Absolutely.”
“What if I want to abstain?”
“You can’t abstain. You have to vote.”
“Can you have Andy Cohen interview me? Or would it have to be Anderson Cooper?”
“You can be interviewed by whoever you want.”
“Would there be a big cake with my name on it? And balloons? And confetti?”
“You’re avoiding the question. Who would you vote for?”
“Well, I wouldn’t vote for Hillary Clinton,” I said.
Ed narrowed his eyes and looked angry. “Then you are personally responsible for the election of Donald Trump. You. Thanks a lot.”
“Happy birthday, Ed,” I said.
And got up and left his house.
###
This was not that major an incident: I was actually looking for an excuse to leave. I hadn’t been in a particularly sociable mood last night in the first place; it had only been an oppressive sense of neighborly obligation that impelled me across the road.
Plus if I’d really committed a serious social faux pas, L would have lectured me about it.
She didn’t.
Instead, when she came back, she bounced on my bed for 45 minutes, regaling me with the latest goings on with the Hyde Park town council. Seems like they want to build an enormous hotel complex in the old deserted strip mall at the intersection of Pine Woods Road and Highway 9. I can’t imagine that would be anything but a disaster: Yes, Hyde Park has the Vanderbilt Mansion and the FDR Library, but I think you do the one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. And then you drive home. Or on to another station of your vacation processional.
###
Something Caro said to me this afternoon made me realize that Caro dislikes L. Considers her a fussy, interfering old lady.
This came as a shock.
L seems so eminently likable to me.
“She kept saying, ‘I’m going to call the voting board about your registration,’ and I kept saying, ‘You don’t have to call the voting board about my registration. I know I'm registered.’ And this went on and on and on. Like for half an hour!” Caro complained.
“Well, you know, Caro,” I said, “L is close to 80. And people’s worlds kind of shrink when they get old. They have so little influence over the world at large that they like to exert absolute control over the things they think they can influence.”
And it’s gonna happen to you, too, beayatch, if you’re lucky enough to live that long! I wanted to add.
But didn’t.
One episode of outrageously rude behavior per week is my limit.
