Rice, fight, never die.

Last night, as I browsed Breitbart (as one does to court heart disease/lose IQ points/take years off one’s life), I was surprised to see a familiar name:

Nice try, Breitbart, but this photo is not from the Rice group hug, as that took place at night.

Rice University, my dear alma mater.  If Breitbart is mocking you, you know you’re doing something right.  Oh how I love thee.

I think the last time the internet mentioned us was back in 2011, during the Worst NCAA Basketball Championship Game In History.  UConn played Butler at Reliant Stadium in Houston, and both teams were absolutely miserable.  The game was so boring that the cameras kept panning over to show the section of Rice students holding signs that said “We’re just happy to be here”.  Apparently we were trending on Twitter during the game as many people were like, “what is Rice #worstgameever”.

So here we are, back in the internet spotlight—this time featured on the official news outlet of the Trump White House no less!

The article laments a group hug conducted by Rice students as “just another in a series of campus coddling events that have occurred at universities across the United States in response to Trump’s victory.”  Please watch the video in the link and judge for yourself if this was a “campus coddling event”.  In true Rice fashion, this is the most awkward group hug imaginable.  It’s not even a hug.  I’m actually disappointed—I was hoping for a big hugging mob (not MOB) (Rice joke) around Willy’s statue.  Instead, they just stand there linking arms and eventually start singing the Rice song because it must have been too awkward to stand there in silence.  Is this really news, Breitbart?  Can’t you guys, like, I don’t know, get a life?  Leave my Owls alone?

Because my blood pressure was not high enough, I braved a trip to the comment section.  Oh the rewards.

Interesting you'd mention "moral compass", Wagoner.

Pretty sure they are still getting drunk and laid, but they are also managing to learn EMPATHY--a lesson you may have missed...along with grammar.  Go back to ignoring minorities.

Hoooooo hoooo hoooo "simpering nancies"!!!  "Bottom feeders of society"!!!!  Bless you, ArsenicSundae.  At the risk of sounding too tri-coastal elite (Gulf Coast, what up), I can't wait to tell all my Rice doctor friends what bottom feeders they are.

Seriously, you don't want to know what my Rice friends are doing with their pathetic lives.  But I won't be so gauche as to list them out.

But here it gets interesting:

Killin' it, Cath.  THEY CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

I'm not sure we could find an exchange that better sums up what is wrong about Breitbart.  Denial of an account that does not align with the propaganda, preferencing "my reading of what happened" over "what actually happened", patronizing an entire generation and denying its value, only accepting their definition of "Conservative".

Cathy’s story is absolutely plausible.  A "can't we just hug this election out" group hug feels a lot more Rice than "omg what are we gonna do Trump is president now" group hug.  Rice is still in Texas, y'all.  There are Republicans there.  But as Cathy so aptly points out, the truth does not fit the Breitbart narrative.  Empathy on college campuses does not fit the narrative.  

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I'd ignore Breitbart were it not for the fact its chairman, Steve Bannon, will be president-elect Trump's chief strategist.  Breitbart and the "alt-right" are no longer "fringe"—Trump has given them the legitimacy of a coveted White House role.  If Bannon has zero moral qualms about promoting ignorance, insinuating anti-Semitism, or giving voice to white nationalists, what will he do when he has the ear of the president?

I'll leave you with one last bit from the comment section:  

Jacktee, at least we can agree on that.

My concession speech.

Good evening, my fellow Americans.  Thank you—yes, I love you, too.  Thank you.

What a year it has been.  As obnoxious as this tendency is, I’d like to quote myself.  In January of this year I wrote:

For me, 2015 was a gratifying year—exciting move to San Francisco, Erin’s wedding, etc—but for the world, 2015 seemed to be when the crazies took hold…everywhere.  Here’s to hoping everyone can CALM DOWN in 2016.  A vain hope for an election year, I realize.

Oh baby Claire.  Oh optimistic baby Claire.  I want to give that girl a hug.  Vain hope indeed.  The crazies were just warming up.

To say I’m disappointed in the outcome of this election would be a gross understatement.  My eyelids are just now returning to their un-swollen selves.  My body hurts as if I were in mourning.  And I guess I am.  I am mourning what I formerly believed so strongly about our country—that, as Hillary said often, “America is great because America is good.”  I don’t know if we are.

Donald Trump has accepted the results of the election because he won, as he said he would.  I have accepted the results of the election because I respect the system, not because I respect him.  He has not earned that.  I respect the will of the people, and I thank them for disillusioning me of my naïve idea that we would resolutely reject what Donald Trump was selling. 

While his campaign alarmed me, his election has finally made me understand the severity of the problems facing our country.  Racism, sexism, and ignorance run deeper than I realized.  The right to worship without fear is under threat.  The freedom of speech is under threat.

While I hope for the best for our country, I cannot promise to stand by and make nice for the sake of “healing the divide”.  Winning an election does not validate bigotry.  Bigotry will always be wrong.  I am more motivated than ever to take a stand.  My big mouth will keep blobbing.  Maybe I’ll move to a red state and run for office.  Maybe I will volunteer to help kids be better readers.  I don’t know what I’ll do yet, but I will do something.

To everyone who reads this blog, thank you for coming back and for giving all the nice feedback.  I enjoy writing here and I’m glad people enjoy reading it.  I hope people who do not agree with me stick with it too, so they can try to understand where I’m coming from.  I may be snarky, but I always try to be respectful.

The next four years will be a challenge, and we ALL will need to confront reality if we’re to overcome it.  I am ready.  God bless you, God bless Hillary Clinton, God bless Donald Trump, and God bless the United States of America.

Bag ladies for America.

I am all studied up for voting in California tomorrow.  17 state ballot measures, 24 city propositions, and 1 district measure.  Most exciting thing I learned: there is an American Progressive Bag Alliance.  Where do I sign up?  They are fighting California’s proposed ban on single-use plastic and paper bags.  Some of you may know—upon moving to San Francisco, I was very distressed to learn the city had banned plastic bags.  My precious plastic bags.  I had amassed a considerable collection in Houston.  How would I, in this new city, find more plastic bags to stuff into other plastic bags?  It has indeed been a struggle.  It’s too late for plastic bags in San Francisco, but perhaps not in California, if the American Progressive Bag Alliance has its way.  I await the result of tomorrow’s vote with bated breath.

In other news, I will be wearing a pantsuit tomorrow in honor of HRC.  Let's go ladiezzzz.

To the tune of "Work work work work work": Vote vote vote vote vote.

Speechwriter application, round 2.

Good evening.  Hello.  It’s me, Melania.  Did you forget me?  It’s been months since my husband, Donald Trump, has allowed me to speak, in public or in private, but I do so tonight at his behest.  He continues to enjoy making a fool of me, so the topic he has chosen for me to discuss tonight is online bullying.

I worry about my son, Barron von Trump.  He looks too much like his father.  He doesn’t take my hair advice.  If your parents were Donald and Melania Trump, whose hair advice would you take?  Melania’s, right?  My hair is amazing and Donald’s is very bad.  It’s very frustrating.  I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to speak my mind.  I am to be seen, not heard.  Don't forget, Melania...seen, not heard.

I also worry about Barron because most people don’t know what he actually looks like.  They assume he looks like this:

The only thing remotely accurate is that delightful little hand.  Just like his father's.  But I wish they would assume he is beautiful like his mother.  Instead, he is a classic target for those cowardly, faceless, nameless, internet low-lives.  Why are they afraid to use their names and pictures?  Is it because they are ugly?  Bullies should emulate my husband, Donald Trump.  He is proud to use his real name and picture while bullying others online.  So please, bullies, I want you to feel empowered to be yourselves.  It will make it easier for my husband, Donald Trump, to find you and put you in jail when he is our king.

I want to thank you all for supporting my husband, Donald Trump.  He tells me that I will be queen whether he wins the election or not.  I am so humbled.  God bless you, God bless Donald Trump, and God bless America.

Bob Ross is on Netflix.

Does everyone already know about this?  Such a soothing show.  I’d like to invite the hackers to replace Fox News with The Joy of Painting.  It would do the world so much good.  Bob Ross beats Sean Hannity and Bill O’F-ingReilly any day of the week.  I happen to have a small Russian readership—maybe you guys can make it happen.  (I know Donald Trump has you all very busy and this wouldn’t be in your national interest, but there have to be some of you who want to screw over Putin, right?)  Or we could just organize a national Joy of Painting watch party so everyone can calm the f down for 30 minutes (or 3 hours, as I did on Friday). 

I’ve been MIA from the blob as I was busy with final preparations for my office’s 50^th anniversary party on Thursday.  It was a YUUUUGE success.  Yuge.  Believe me, it was the best party San Francisco, maybe the world, has ever seen.  Yuge. 

I had a bit to drink at the party, which led me to have some wild dreams on Thursday night (my boss having a Velcro beard, etc).  In one dream, I had a meeting with Chris Christie and made him cry.  I gave a quite moving “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speech regarding his support of Trump.  He got very choked up. 

So this brings us back to me nursing my hangover on Friday with the help of The Joy of Painting.  I am now recovered and back to the blob.  Stay tuned for my election wrap-up coverage. 

From all of us here, I’d like to wish you happy voting, and God bless, my friend.