President John F. Kennedy was much loved and an eloquent, charismatic speaker.

“And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

His words have inspired and given hope to a number of generations.

Normally I read diaries here and I make a comment or two, rec a few up, or occasionally offer a little slap back TR.  No big deal.  It's better than watching a rerun while we wait for the writer's strike to end.

But tonight's different.

I just read a diary that really got to me.  And to quote a line from an old movie called Network, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore."

Here's a little tidbit for you, just in case you missed it today.

Remember the 20-something in hot pants who did the "I've Got A Crush On Obama?"

You know the one...

Is this diary about sex?  You bet it is.

The first time is something we don’t ever forget.  We may not talk about it with anyone, but it changes us---there’s a loss of innocence, they say, and we carry that with us forever.  So let’s talk about it, explore it, reminisce, and put it out there for everyone to discuss.  Let’s take it out of the dark, and shed some light on it.   I want to hear all about it, all the little details, all the dirt you care to tell---about that first time.

The first time you tasted sexism.

Just to give you an idea of what the rest of the world is thinking:

The International Herald Tribune today endorsed Senator Hillary Clinton as the Democratic Party candidate for President. Printed at 33 sites across the world, and sold in more than 180 countries, the International Herald Tribune has over 240,000 readers.  

Here are some of the reasons they backed Clinton:

Well, what do you guys think?

They were charming, informative, determined, and most importantly, they complimented each other beautifully.

The one inspirational, and the other a hard-working won't-quit-until-it's-done brainiac.

I'm a card carrying union gal, a proud member of the striking WGA ("We write. You wrong").  I learned about
respecting the power of the rank and file from my father who taught me never to cross a picket line, and from my own days of walking a line I learned to love the rank and file as brothers and sisters.  So every time a union endorses a candidate I pay special attention because I value the voices of union members.

Senator Obama received an important endorsement the day after he lost the New Hamphire primary.  The Culinary Workers Local 226 in Nevada announced that he was their candidate of choice.  I was impressed by the endorsement, and respectful of the 60,000 hard-working men and women who voted for it.  The rank and file had spoken, and Obama was their man, I thought.

Turns out I was wrong.

I just saw Hillary on CNN, and I think she needs a little help.  It’s only a few more days to the New Hampshire finish line, and frankly as one of her supporters, I’m a little scared.

I watched as she was doing one of those candidate "I talk and You listen" events.  The kind where an audience sits on the stage and you can see how cool they think their candidate is.   Usually there are smiles, and nodding heads, and waving placards.  In Iowa, there were grey-haired grannies, and middle-thickened matrons behind our gal, but here in NH the faces have been replaced by the youth look.  No one under 25 need apply.  

Frankly, I didn’t like what I saw.

If you celebrate Christmas, I hope you had a good one.  Judging by the looks of our home, we had a doozy of a day.  With dirty dishes piled up, wrappings, and cardboard boxes spread out all over the house; everyone’s been well fed, newly clothed, and Santa Claused to their delight.  As I bend down to pick up still one more bow to toss into the trash, I have a moment of instant connection with most of the mothers across this country.

It’s time to clean up the mess.  

And as a woman, I get stuck with the job.  

My Dad wanted to have a son.

But he got me instead.  A girl.

It would be another four years before my brother was born, and he had a son with whom he could throw around the ball.  As luck would have it, my brother was more the artistic type, and he hated sports.  But me, I loved playing ball.  Especially football.