snarko!s into Politics?!
posted by snarko on Monday, January 24 2005
Setting the Record Straight
Okay, so like, recently, more than one of you has visited the new chezsnarko.com and written to me to the effect of, "If I didn't just read you were into politics, I wouldn't believe it."
Suffice it to say, I'm a tad disappointed.
But maybe I haven't done my job here. Maybe I haven't put this point-blank enough and you thought me some cutesie party girl that's into fashion but not things that matter. Maybe you didn't pick up that I'm actually a feminist, because as an advertiser I realize the bastardization of the term and so I never use it.
Maybe you didn't pick up on the fact I have a loud mouth and use it against those that only serve to ruin a good company and its well-meaning employees to line their own selfish pockets (Enron, anyone?) Maybe you've never read one of my Letters to the Editor. Maybe you don't think these actions are "political".
So on the presumption of that "maybe", let's set this record straight: while I'm a "scattered-brained" (because I'm always battling at least four thoughts at once) artist, a "go-with-flow" Piscean and Discordian, and now (again) flat-broke, I have ALWAYS put my talents, whether artistic, linguistic, or otherwise, into politics—FIRST.
For the common good. And because I realize (whilst most of my generation does not) that it affects my daily life, how my hard-earned tax dollar is spent, and what kind of a world I wake into next morning.
THE BEGINNING
I grew up in BFE, Pennsylvania, the daughter of a union-card-carrying steelworker. In my first election, I was registered Republican (like my parents) and voted for Reagan. Sorry.
But in my household, at age 18, a couple of political values were instilled into my head: 1. To be a true American, you MUST exercise your right to vote; 2. Political parties are bullshit. In BFE, if you weren't a Republican in local politics, you simply weren't being elected. Too many people where just gonna throw the straight-Republican-switch for any other vote to matter.
That said, the bogus "Republicans are for the rich and Democrats are for the poor" mantra didn't work on me. With only Republicans to choose from, I had to do research as to which candidates represented my actual beliefs most closely. Thank whatever you believe in for the internet; it cuts my research time on how candidates have voted previously on what matters to me most to only 10% of the time I used to spend looking this stuff up—three buses later—at the downtown library.
At this time I also ran an underground newspaper, called The Sandhedralite Chronicles, that always got me into political trouble in school. I one point I was threatened with slander charges (which was bogus), suspended, and then forced to join the regular newspaper (the worst punishment the principal could come up with). I ended up spending a lot of time at PTA meetings saying things like, "No, little Johnny really does run a drug ring."
When I first met my now husband, he was a fan of my paper.
And thank Mr. Sutton—my senior year high school English teacher—who when it came to doing that stupid ten-page "take a side on an issue and defend it" paper and I couldn't decide on a topic (I'd already beaten abortion and animal rights to death), suggested to me "media ethics". Because he knew what kind of teenager I was.
"WTF?!", I thought. "News is news, right? News is FACT, right?"
WRONG. I read "The Media IS the Message" cover-to-cover (along with 20 other books, but this one had the most impact), appalled to learn that the media is corporate-owned and self-serving to its corporate interests. I decided then and there to go into advertising, for the other side.
POOR, BUT WHY?
Sagitarius in retrograde. LOL!
So by age 21 I'd learned I wasn't getting that six-figure job.
Because I lacked talent? Hell no. Because my daddy didn't have enough money, power, or the right connections. Accepting that fact, I spent the next four years of my life broke and desperate, sleeping in parks, on couches, taking a dangerous ghetto-apartment at $200/month, what-have-you, holding down three jobs simultaneously and paying my own way through college (because in my ethnic old-school family, "girls don't go to college").
Administrators would constantly cut me breaks because they knew I was one of "the good ones"; blessings to the woman that when my Pell Grant got yanked last minute (for some reason I wasn't poor enough) and I was crying while signing over my latest paycheck (knowing full well I'd be homeless for it again in a month) to the business office, simply wrote "PAID" across the bill (illegal—bless you) and told me to go sign up for my classes.
And because I spoke up so often for the little person, I was elected to Student Congress. Then I took on the new President of the Catholic college (the old one was a lesbian nun that respected my political enthusiasm) in my position as Student Representative to the Board of Directors on a weekly basis on such issues as, "Why are you trying to build a sports center on a protected wetland with money from riverboat gambling?!"
A constant thorn in the Monsenior's side, I didn't exactly get the Presidential Award when I graduated (and I was an important role model in the "dress in beach garb for graduation" protest of the ceremonies moved to said sports center when we used to march on the lawn that day… because I stood with the academic elite in sunglasses and bikini he HAD to address us).
In my first job out of college in advertising (which I got thanks to current employee Natalie's recommendation as "best of class"), I constantly, as Senior Art Director at age 23, refused to work on accounts for right-wing hate groups, for corporations lying about their products, and other despicable subjects. I quit on ultimatom whereby another less-than-spec employee goes, else I go. Despite the fact it was a woman-owned business with, up until then, only woman employees, this guy was brought it at double my salary "because he may have to support a family someday" (while my then boyfriend now husband laid unemployed) and didn't bring in a single client (my work was #1 most requested); anyways, point is I learned the hard way that as a woman I would never earn my actual worth.
And I worked for the mayoral campaign of the I-forget-his-name Democrat, and on that of Wofford (poor soul… I swear the movie "Bob Roberts" is about this very campaign); Tom (f)Ridge and Rick Santorum are NOT my fault; I voted against them; it's a running joke for those that don't know me.
I followed with heavy heart as a resident of a mostly-black neighborhood in Pittsburgh the Johnny Gammage story; son of a Pittsburgh Steeler beaten to DEATH by police because "no black man could possibly own such an expensive car." Appalling. Beaten to death while looking for his wallet and ID, because the cops assumed he was reaching for gun, which he didn't own.
And I say "black" cuz all my black friends do; none of them call themselves "Afro-Americans" and I hate your bullshit PC-ism holier-than-thou crap that calls me racist for saying otherwise.
The cop got off, and no one rioted. They rioted every time the Pirates lost a balllgame (as a Norh Side resident next to the stadium you just knew to move your car, QUICKLY, and defend your property by any means necessary) but didn't riot for actual obvious wrong-doing by local police?!?! If no one riots for this, this city sucks and I'm leaving, I noted at the time.
Pittsburgh (accent on the PITTS), sucked, so we drove our van to the first place it broke down, corner of Polk and Van Ness, San Francisco.
SAN FRANCISCO
The only election I've ever missed was the one when I first hit town. I didn't know the candidates, the issues, who was lying, what the culture was, or which papers to believe. I sat out this only election ever on basis of ignorance.
San Francisco was a great learning experience I'm glad I went through; no longer do I lump all Asians in the same category (you quickly learn Japanese and Chinese are VERY different after spending time on buses with 12 languages going on at once), but we (me and my now husband) moved there for an art and music scene that no longer existed.
Locals told me the city's on a 13-year cycle and I hit the bottom of it; bless you if you hit the peak. I didn't.
My skills just so happened to fit the current economic climate; as a user of the internet since 1993 (my first program written in BASIC recorded on metal tape was of an alien video game in 1987… and at my first aforementioned job I saw the internet and thought, "My god, they need a non-engineer to reach the masses with this"), I got a job through MacTemps (now Aquent) at Imagine Media. This is NOT what I wanted, but after earning respect from my all-male staff in technology, I became the bitch-goddess you all respect and love.
Then I got "fired" (forced to resign), after four years of being "company mascot", for standing up for reader's rights against a man whose self-serving agenda was to drag the internet division to the ground whilst cashing in as much advertiser dollar for himself as possible.
I personally staged such events as "dress up to work day," because the aforementioned had dared to say the reason we couldn't make deadline wasn't because we only had six editors reporting on four online news sites on a daily basis; our problem was we had pink hair. This event entailed "dressing the part"—suits, ties, nylons, heels, "normal" wigs over our colored hair—and then doing exactly what this jerk did all day.
No work. We just sent emails to each other all day about what work we might do.
At first, he was excited about the "conformity". By 2PM, he realized no work was getting done. By 4PM, he realized I was behind it all, again leading dissent. "I can't believe I didn't get fired this week," was my Friday mantra.
In my time not online, I wrote letters to the editor supporting Tom Ammiano for mayor (write-in candidate; he'd dropped from race because his votes as city council member were too important to take time off to campaign), tried to convince THE Craig (of Craig's List) to run for office, and worked the Castro District in support of Ralph Nader for President.
I am not sorry. I am an unrepentant Nader supporter. (Where's my bumper sticker, Austin?!?! You PROMISED!)
I had given up on the two-party system entirely. Gore? WTF?! Anti-first admendment, anti-gay rights (which is why I worked the Castro), wussy, spineless, nearly Republican piece of crap. I knew full well Nader wouldn't win; I was working for that glorious 5%—the 5% that would open debates to a third party.
You know what happened with Nader. Ammiano, the WRITE IN, went into a runoff vote against the jerk Willie Brown. He lost the runoff, but that wasn't the point; I was terribly upset the rest of the country didn't get to hear the incredible inspirational story that in San Francisco, a WRITE IN nearly got elected mayor. A flaming gay. An honest man. Power to the people. Fight "da man".
Except that the media is run by the other side.
I had hoped that Bush would win, for the record. Not because I liked him. Because I thought him so totally intolerable, so stupid, so right-wing-nut-job, no one in their right mind would elect him to a second term. Gore sucked only slightly less, but might get re-elected, based on charm alone, I thought. I'd hoped he run the country into the ground so badly a revolution would ensue.
I am a chaos theorist, after all.
At first, I wanted to eat my words because he was even worse a President than I could possibly fathom (and continues to surprise me with his excellence in sheer evil). But after VoteSmart, MoveOn, Truthout, the PDA (Progressive Democrats of America) and half a dozen other progressive groups rose to forefront in disgust, I no longer think I was wrong. A revolution IS happening. Just not as fast as I'd hoped.
AUSTIN TEXAS
The Blue Star of the Red State. Austin is to Texas as San Francisco is to California, I swear. If you don't believe me, see truthout.org's Red State Roadtrip episode #10 [nevermind. video no longer available but go see em anyway they rock] Chris didn't dig up some weird anomolies—this is your average Austinite.
In fact, if you drive through Travis Heights (zipcode 78704PEACE), at the time it wasn't enough to have an "American for Peace" sign in your yard; nay, you had to keep up with what ribbons to adorn it with for which progressive initiatives if you wanted to keep up with the Jones.
I offered my web skills to the transvestite homeless guy that runs for mayor every year; he's far from crazy, and Eris needs him. But he declined due to legal issues I didn't understand at the time.
So I was somewhat interested by a Howard Dean for President. Somewhat. Because he had no experience in DC, I couldn't look up his voting records. I simply couldn't believe him.
Then I heard the "E" word—environment—fall out of the mouth of some short dude named Kucinich. Yeah, right. Every time I hear that, I look up their record to find they're full of shit.
Except this time it was true. And he had a near perfect attendance record, rare for DC. And he voted the same way I would on EVERY issue—not just this one—98% of the time.
"Oh my fucking goddess, I actually have a candidate."
I spent the next year-and-a-half coming up with publicity stunts, going to meetups, campaigning on busy street corners, writing in forums, phonebanking, painting my car, learning the inside process of the Democratic Party (becoming a delegate to state), training others to take over Convention to the best of my unseasoned ability, kicking twenty-somethings into giving a shit, designing t-shirts and bumper stickers and donating all profits, you name it, anything and everything in every spare moment I had to getting this man HEARD, even if he wasn't going to make office.
It was during this time punk rock chick band Le Tigre's "Get Off the Internet" replaced Cibo Matto's "Birthday Cake" as my personal theme song:
GET OFF THE INTERNET
I'll meet you in the streets
GET OFF THE INTERNET
Destroy the right wing
Best line going to (song is terribly repetitive), "This is repetitive, cuz nothing has changed."
LOL! [Theme song now changed to the same band's "New Kicks", a punk version of every peace chant you've ever heard.]
Our Halloween door display, enjoyed by everyone who passed it, was called "The White House of Horrors", and featured Rumsfeld (as a zombie) eating Bush's brain (as Frankenstein).
I've also tried repeatedly to get a job with Jim Hightower (of the "Hightower Lowdown"), who lives in 78704. I once got an interview, due to my cover letter alone. I took a risk. It worked. It started with, "I am completely unqualified to be your marketing director" (I was 65% qualified, but never, ever, wanted to do the rest of the job), but the line that got me in was "I worked for the only publishing company that didn't bend over when an advertiser said, 'insertion order'."
Risky. But it worked. But there was no job.
Also in my travels, I got to meet Greg Palast and actually play with the software used to rig the Florida elections in 2000. Of greatest interest: most people kicked off voting register commited their "felonies" in 2007.
That's not a typo.
Anyway, this is EXACTLY the kind of job I'm still looking for; leads appreciated. Something that uses my talents as an artist in combination with progressive politics. It is the only thing that will make me happy. If I'm not fighting da man, I'm not doing my job, and I'm a bad Pisces. And if you didn't know that was what I've always been about, I hope you get me a little better now.
snarko!s into Politics?!
posted by snarko on Monday, January 24 2005
Part IV: Austin Texas
The Blue Star of the Red State. Austin is to Texas as San Francisco is to California, I swear. If you don't believe me, see truthout.org's Red State Roadtrip episode #10; Chris didn't dig up some weird anomolies—this is your average Austinite.
In fact, if you drive through Travis Heights (zipcode 78704PEACE), at the time it wasn't enough to have an "American for Peace" sign in your yard; nay, you had to keep up with what ribbons to adorn it with for which progressive initiatives if you wanted to keep up with the Jones.
I offered my web skills to the transvestite homeless guy that runs for mayor every year; he's far from crazy, and Eris needs him. But he declined due to legal issues I didn't understand at the time.
So I was somewhat interested by a Howard Dean for President. Somewhat. Because he had no experience in DC, I couldn't look up his voting records. I simply couldn't believe him.
Then I heard the "E" word—environment—fall out of the mouth of some short dude named Kucinich. Yeah, right. Every time I hear that, I look up their record to find they're full of shit.
Except this time it was true. And he had a near perfect attendance record, rare for DC. And he voted the same way I would on EVERY issue—not just this one—98% of the time.
"Oh my fucking goddess, I actually have a candidate."
I spent the next year-and-a-half coming up with publicity stunts, going to meetups, campaigning on busy street corners, writing in forums, phonebanking, painting my car, learning the inside process of the Democratic Party (becoming a delegate to state), training others to take over Convention to the best of my unseasoned ability, kicking twenty-somethings into giving a shit, designing t-shirts and bumper stickers and donating all profits, you name it, anything and everything in every spare moment I had to getting this man HEARD, even if he wasn't going to make office.
It was during this time punk rock chick band Le Tigre's "Get Off the Internet" replaced Cibo Matto's "Birthday Cake" as my personal theme song:
GET OFF THE INTERNET
I'll meet you in the streets
GET OFF THE INTERNET
Destroy the right wing
Best line going to (song is terribly repetitive), "This is repetitive, cuz nothing has changed."
LOL! [Theme song now changed to the same band's "New Kicks", a punk version of every peace chant you've ever heard.]
Our Halloween door display, enjoyed by everyone who passed it, was called "The White House of Horrors", and featured Rumsfeld (as a zombie) eating Bush's brain (as Frankenstein).
I've also tried repeatedly to get a job with Jim Hightower (of the "Hightower Lowdown"), who lives in 78704. I once got an interview, due to my cover letter alone. I took a risk. It worked. It started with, "I am completely unqualified to be your marketing director" (I was 65% qualified, but never, ever, wanted to do the rest of the job), but the line that got me in was "I worked for the only publishing company that didn't bend over when an advertiser said, 'insertion order'."
Risky. But it worked. But there was no job.
Also in my travels, I got to meet Greg Palast and actually play with the software used to rig the Florida elections in 2000. Of greatest interest: most people kicked off voting register commited their "felonies" in 2007.
That's not a typo.
Anyway, this is EXACTLY the kind of job I'm still looking for; leads appreciated. Something that uses my talents as an artist in combination with progressive politics. It is the only thing that will make me happy. If I'm not fighting da man, I'm not doing my job, and I'm a bad Pisces. And if you didn't know that was what I've always been about, I hope you get me a little better now.
snarko!s into Politics?!
posted by snarko on Monday, January 24 2005
Part III: San Francisco
The only election I've ever missed was the one when I first hit town. I didn't know the candidates, the issues, who was lying, what the culture was, or which papers to believe. I sat out this only election ever on basis of ignorance.
San Francisco was a great learning experience I'm glad I went through; no longer do I lump all Asians in the same category (you quickly learn Japanese and Chinese are VERY different after spending time on buses with 12 languages going on at once), but we (me and my now husband) moved there for an art and music scene that no longer existed.
Locals told me the city's on a 13-year cycle and I hit the bottom of it; bless you if you hit the peak. I didn't.
My skills just so happened to fit the current economic climate; as a user of the internet since 1993 (my first program written in BASIC recorded on metal tape was of an alien video game in 1987… and at my first aforementioned job I saw the internet and thought, "My god, they need a non-engineer to reach the masses with this"), I got a job through MacTemps (now Aquent) at Imagine Media. This is NOT what I wanted, but after earning respect from my all-male staff in technology, I became the bitch-goddess you all respect and love.
Then I got "fired" (forced to resign), after four years of being "company mascot", for standing up for reader's rights against a man whose self-serving agenda was to drag the internet division to the ground whilst cashing in as much advertiser dollar for himself as possible.
I personally staged such events as "dress up to work day," because the aforementioned had dared to say the reason we couldn't make deadline wasn't because we only had six editors reporting on four online news sites on a daily basis; our problem was we had pink hair. This event entailed "dressing the part"—suits, ties, nylons, heels, "normal" wigs over our colored hair—and then doing exactly what this jerk did all day.
No work. We just sent emails to each other all day about what work we might do.
At first, he was excited about the "conformity". By 2PM, he realized no work was getting done. By 4PM, he realized I was behind it all, again leading dissent. "I can't believe I didn't get fired this week," was my Friday mantra.
In my time not online, I wrote letters to the editor supporting Tom Ammiano for mayor (write-in candidate; he'd dropped from race because his votes as city council member were too important to take time off to campaign), tried to convince THE Craig (of Craig's List) to run for office, and worked the Castro District in support of Ralph Nader for President.
I am not sorry. I am an unrepentant Nader supporter. (Where's my bumper sticker, Austin?!?! You PROMISED!)
I had given up on the two-party system entirely. Gore? WTF?! Anti-first admendment, anti-gay rights (which is why I worked the Castro), wussy, spineless, nearly Republican piece of crap. I knew full well Nader wouldn't win; I was working for that glorious 5%—the 5% that would open debates to a third party.
You know what happened with Nader. Ammiano, the WRITE IN, went into a runoff vote against the jerk Willie Brown. He lost the runoff, but that wasn't the point; I was terribly upset the rest of the country didn't get to hear the incredible inspirational story that in San Francisco, a WRITE IN nearly got elected mayor. A flaming gay. An honest man. Power to the people. Fight "da man".
Except that the media is run by the other side.
I had hoped that Bush would win, for the record. Not because I liked him. Because I thought him so totally intolerable, so stupid, so right-wing-nut-job, no one in their right mind would elect him to a second term. Gore sucked only slightly less, but might get re-elected, based on charm alone, I thought. I'd hoped he run the country into the ground so badly a revolution would ensue.
I am a chaos theorist, after all.
At first, I wanted to eat my words because he was even worse a President than I could possibly fathom (and continues to surprise me with his excellence in sheer evil). But after VoteSmart, MoveOn, Truthout, the PDA (Progressive Democrats of America) and half a dozen other progressive groups rose to forefront in disgust, I no longer think I was wrong. A revolution IS happening. Just not as fast as I'd hoped.
snarko!s into Politics?!
posted by snarko on Monday, January 24 2005
Part II: Poor, But Why?
Sagitarius in retrograde. LOL!
So by age 21 I'd learned I wasn't getting that six-figure job.
Because I lacked talent? Hell no. Because my daddy didn't have enough money, power, or the right connections. Accepting that fact, I spent the next four years of my life broke and desperate, sleeping in parks, on couches, taking a dangerous ghetto-apartment at $200/month, what-have-you, holding down three jobs simultaneously and paying my own way through college (because in my ethnic old-school family, "girls don't go to college").
Administrators would constantly cut me breaks because they knew I was one of "the good ones"; blessings to the woman that when my Pell Grant got yanked last minute (for some reason I wasn't poor enough) and I was crying while signing over my latest paycheck (knowing full well I'd be homeless for it again in a month) to the business office, simply wrote "PAID" across the bill (illegal—bless you) and told me to go sign up for my classes.
And because I spoke up so often for the little person, I was elected to Student Congress. Then I took on the new President of the Catholic college (the old one was a lesbian nun that respected my political enthusiasm) in my position as Student Representative to the Board of Directors on a weekly basis on such issues as, "Why are you trying to build a sports center on a protected wetland with money from riverboat gambling?!"
A constant thorn in the Monsenior's side, I didn't exactly get the Presidential Award when I graduated (and I was an important role model in the "dress in beach garb for graduation" protest of the ceremonies moved to said sports center when we used to march on the lawn that day… because I stood with the academic elite in sunglasses and bikini he HAD to address us).
In my first job out of college in advertising (which I got thanks to current employee Natalie's recommendation as "best of class"), I constantly, as Senior Art Director at age 23, refused to work on accounts for right-wing hate groups, for corporations lying about their products, and other despicable subjects. I quit on ultimatom whereby another less-than-spec employee goes, else I go. Despite the fact it was a woman-owned business with, up until then, only woman employees, this guy was brought it at double my salary "because he may have to support a family someday" (while my then boyfriend now husband laid unemployed) and didn't bring in a single client (my work was #1 most requested); anyways, point is I learned the hard way that as a woman I would never earn my actual worth.
And I worked for the mayoral campaign of the I-forget-his-name Democrat, and on that of Wofford (poor soul… I swear the movie "Bob Roberts" is about this very campaign); Tom (f)Ridge and Rick Santorum are NOT my fault; I voted against them; it's a running joke for those that don't know me.
I followed with heavy heart as a resident of a mostly-black neighborhood in Pittsburgh the Johnny Gammage story; son of a Pittsburgh Steeler beaten to DEATH by police because "no black man could possibly own such an expensive car." Appalling. Beaten to death while looking for his wallet and ID, because the cops assumed he was reaching for gun, which he didn't own.
And I say "black" cuz all my black friends do; none of them call themselves "Afro-Americans" and I hate your bullshit PC-ism holier-than-thou crap that calls me racist for saying otherwise.
The cop got off, and no one rioted. They rioted every time the Pirates lost a balllgame (as a Norh Side resident next to the stadium you just knew to move your car, QUICKLY, and defend your property by any means necessary) but didn't riot for actual obvious wrong-doing by local police?!?! If no one riots for this, this city sucks and I'm leaving, I noted at the time.
Pittsburgh (accent on the PITTS), sucked, so we drove our van to the first place it broke down, corner of Polk and Van Ness, San Francisco.
snarko!s into POLITICS?!
posted by snarko on Monday, January 24 2005
Setting the Record Straight
Okay, so like, recently, more than one of you has visited the new chezsnarko.com and written to me to the effect of, "If I didn't just read you were into politics, I wouldn't believe it."
Suffice it to say, I'm a tad disappointed.
But maybe I haven't done my job here. Maybe I haven't put this point-blank enough and you thought me some cutesie party girl that's into fashion but not things that matter. Maybe you didn't pick up that I'm actually a feminist, because as an advertiser I realize the bastardization of the term and so I never use it.
Maybe you didn't pick up on the fact I have a loud mouth and use it against those that only serve to ruin a good company and its well-meaning employees to line their own selfish pockets (Enron, anyone?) Maybe you've never read one of my Letters to the Editor. Maybe you don't think these actions are "political".
So on the presumption of that "maybe", let's set this record straight: while I'm a "scattered-brained" (because I'm always battling at least four thoughts at once) artist, a "go-with-flow" Piscean and Discordian, and now (again) flat-broke, I have ALWAYS put my talents, whether artistic, linguistic, or otherwise, into politics—FIRST.
For the common good. And because I realize (whilst most of my generation does not) that it affects my daily life, how my hard-earned tax dollar is spent, and what kind of a world I wake into next morning.
THE BEGINNING
I grew up in BFE, Pennsylvania, the daughter of a union-card-carrying steelworker. In my first election, I was registered Republican (like my parents) and voted for Reagan. Sorry.
But in my household, at age 18, a couple of political values were instilled into my head: 1. To be a true American, you MUST exercise your right to vote; 2. Political parties are bullshit. In BFE, if you weren't a Republican in local politics, you simply weren't being elected. Too many people where just gonna throw the straight-Republican-switch for any other vote to matter.
That said, the bogus "Republicans are for the rich and Democrats are for the poor" mantra didn't work on me. With only Republicans to choose from, I had to do research as to which candidates represented my actual beliefs most closely. Thank whatever you believe in for the internet; it cuts my research time on how candidates have voted previously on what matters to me most to only 10% of the time I used to spend looking this stuff up—three buses later—at the downtown library.
At this time I also ran an underground newspaper, called The Sandhedralite Chronicles, that always got me into political trouble in school. I one point I was threatened with slander charges (which was bogus), suspended, and then forced to join the regular newspaper (the worst punishment the principal could come up with). I ended up spending a lot of time at PTA meetings saying things like, "No, little Johnny really does run a drug ring."
When I first met my now husband, he was a fan of my paper.
And thank Mr. Sutton—my senior year high school English teacher—who when it came to doing that stupid ten-page "take a side on an issue and defend it" paper and I couldn't decide on a topic (I'd already beaten abortion and animal rights to death), suggested to me "media ethics". Because he knew what kind of teenager I was.
"WTF?!", I thought. "News is news, right? News is FACT, right?"
WRONG. I read "The Media IS the Message" cover-to-cover (along with 20 other books, but this one had the most impact), appalled to learn that the media is corporate-owned and self-serving to its corporate interests. I decided then and there to go into advertising, for the other side.