Equal Rights, the Fight Goes On

Driving along and listening to NPR for the latest update on Irene, I heard a piece on how unfortunate it was the ceremony for the new MLK memorial was postponed. To flesh out the story, they interviewed people already there for the occasion. One man was a Civil Rights pioneer who marched with Dr. King. I don’t remember his name, but I thought he spoke eloquently and righteously represented people from those historic times with a concise and poignant summary of the events. I am a liberal democrat, so I was giving him my silent “Amens” and feeling all white and right justified that I have always been on the side of good and against the evil of racism and inequality (as any intelligent person would be). Then he recounted an experience that stopped me in my tracks. Following a peaceful protest he was arrested and put in Parchment. He and fellow protesters went on a 17 day hunger strike. “Wow, how courageous they were,” I thought. Then he went on to note, as an aside, “I lost 100 pounds.”

DAMN.

Now he had my full attention. My first - very, very, very, first thought was , “I could do that.” I could starve for 17 days if a 100 pound loss was my reward. My biggest problem with diets is you have to be on them forever before anything significant happens. I always give up. But 17 days? You can do anything for 17 days. That was my very, very, very, first thought. My second thought, fast on the heels of the first thought, (so fast it tripped over the first thought and took it down) was - he’s a man.

You and I both know if I starved for 17 days, I would lose, maybe, 2 lbs and conceivably even gain weight from breathing deeply. Metabolism is the new racism. It is not just or right that men have taken all the good metabolism and left us with sluggish, immobile digestion. I demand integration with their metabolism. I want the same opportunities and dietary equality as the male among us. I dream that one day I will sit at the table with men and enjoy my meal in fairness and know that we both will metabolize those fat grams with equal enthusiasm.

I propose a constitutional amendment. The rights of no person to metabolize at a maximum rate shall be abridged based on gender.

I expect resistance to the idea. “The Man,” won’t like us standing up for our rights. But I encourage fat chicks everywhere to resist with peaceful but determined solidarity. (Put us all together and that is a solid front)

So, let’s plan our first protest. We will do a sit in. Maybe at the Memphis airport? No, Wait, too close to the Whitehaven Krispy Kreme. that won’t work. How about downtown? Ummmm, no, Rendezvous, Huey’s, Arcade. uh uh. Well, let’s meet out east. Oh hell, MOSA, Carrabas, Muddy’s, GiGi’s.

OK, the only thing to do is recreate the original historical event. Parchment it is. Hunger strike/sit in until we get what we want! Let’s assign chores. Last names from A to M, you guys bring the salty snacks. N to Z last names will do sweet. Everybody bring sweet tea and your own glass. 17 days to thin-equality. Skinny, here I come. I hate skinny people though. Do I even want to go there? But I shouldn’t be a hater. I am going to think positively. I love skinny people, dipped in chocolate and rolled in crushed almonds. Salty/Crunchy and sweet.

Does Anyone Know if She is Registered at Pottery Barn?

It is hard to miss some things, even though I really try. Lately, I have tried not to know about Kim Kardashian’s wedding. It has long been my policy to not know about Kim Kardashian’s anything. (and that includes the family she rode in on) But, as I lamented, it has been hard to miss the random tv tabloid tidbit about the wedding. So, despite my quick trigger finger on the remote, I have ascertained that the nuptials are approaching and she has spent an insane and sinful amount of money on the occasion.

Being short on patience with people like her (and Paris and Lindsey and Charlie), listening to this news garnered a severe, but sad little shake of my head at the stupidity of empty headed rich people. What total absurdity to spend millions of dollars on a one moment in time event. It is the “ I am daddy’s little princess and more special than anyone else.” syndrome taken to ludicrous limits. I have no issue with a bride having her special day and her spotlight moment. But people, please just keep it in perspective. I fantasized about photoshopping some Sudanese refugees as guests at the wedding for a visual reality check. I abandoned the idea because it felt like I was trivializing their plight.

BUT WAIT! On second thought! I had a perspective redo of my own. Prior to her prolonged and self indulgent wedded bliss-a-thon, my limited knowledge of Kim Kardashian translated in my head to one word - useless. Now I have self corrected and decided that the wedding has at last transformed useless to useful. Our economy is in the toilet! KK is hemorrhaging money into our economy at a head spinning pace. She might single handedly save us from economic disaster.

Had she asked, I might have suggested that she share her special day with close family and friends, in an understated way, and donate the extra millions to a food bank somewhere or many wheres. But oddly enough, she didn’t ask. I must Pollyanna in the situation. Many people have a job because she is a self centered, entitled little princess, throwing herself a mega wedding. And when you come right down to it, I haven’t done much for any Sudanese refugees my own self. So in honor of the Kardashian/ impending happy day, I pledge to put money in the plate at church Sunday and designate it for the food pantry. It won’t change the world but it might feed a hungry child this week. Kim, this donation is for you girlfriend! All the millions of hungry children in the world hope you will save them a piece of cake. Marie Antoinette would be so proud.