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Gender: Do not display
Hometown: South Carolina
Member since: Wed Oct 2, 2013, 06:45 AM
Number of posts: 2,636

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Mary called me this morning.

And somehow I missed her call, but she left a voice mail. She was calling, she said, for Hillary for South Carolina. Her voice was soft, a little nervous and unsure. She sounded liked me when I was making calls for Bernie before the primary. She sounded, as I did, like she was doing something that was a stretch for her, that was difficult for her to do, reaching out by phone to strangers. But she was doing it anyway because there was something, perhaps, that compelled her to go beyond her comfort zone, as I felt compelled.

She told me we just have a week until the election, and encouraged me to get out and "vote Democratic down the line." Because it's important. That's why Mary was doing this, even though it was hard for her. Because it's important.

Mary, wherever you are, I'm sorry I missed your call and thank you for calling. Thank you for caring. I just want you to know that you don't have to worry about me. I looked up my ballot information last night and checked up on the candidates. I, along with my husband, will be casting my ballot November 8. We'll be voting "Democratic down the line". Don't worry. For Hillary. For South Carolina. For you, Mary, and all our fellow Americans.

I get so Damned tired

of Trump supporter/Republican BS. You go out to breakfast and you can't even get away from it. A guy in the booth behind us this morning was telling this stupid "Joke" about Hillary very loudly like he was the only one in the place. And as if everyone in the place must agree with his evident take on Clinton. Of course, probably most everyone else does, the white people anyway. The most galling thing is they think, because you're white, you share their screwed up mindset. I really had this strong urge to turn to him and tell him to shut the hell up. As it was I was prepared to move away from him when he and his friend drank their final sip of coffee and left. Thank God!

Then, going into the grocery store there was this fellow expounding (again loudly) on the evils of socialism and Obama. Why can't these people speak quietly? At least. Don't they know Obama isn't running? He also hasn't come for their damned guns. So now it's Hillary who's coming for them. Way to pass the torch, BHO.

I'm really hoping that Republicans are defeated so badly on November 8 that it will shut these guys up for awhile. But I doubt it will help any. Trump will win hugely in SC no doubt. More than ever I understand Pettigru's famous line about South Carolina being too small for a republic and too big for an insane asylum. Though maybe he was wrong about the insane asylum part.

A blogger I'm rather close to

just wrote this and posted it. I thought I'd share. https://allimakeallilove.wordpress.com/2016/03/26/bernie-sanders-receives-a-sign-from-god-2/

Thanks for my heart

It's much appreciated.

I'm no longer for the fringe candidate.

Because after Iowa you can't call him that.

Going the Extra Mile.

OK, here it is, another anecdote. For what it's worth. Talked to my sister the other night. She, herself, just recently came over to Bernie Sanders from the Hillary Clinton side. To tell the truth we were both Hillary supporters at one time. It would have been nice to see the first woman in the White House.

Anyway, my sister had her brother and sister in law drop by over the weekend. The sister-in-law is as conservative as they come. The talk turned to politics, because, with my sister, the talk always turns to politics. Well, the sister-in-law pipes up and says, "If I was going to vote for anyone, I'd vote for Bernie Sanders." My sister was so astonished, she was speechless. At least that's what she says. "Bernie, really?" my sister asks her sil. Yes is the answer. "Are you registered?" my sister asks. No, the sil is not registered.

"Let's get you registered then." So my sister sits down at the computer and pulls up a voter registration form. She isn't able to get the sil registered on line for some reason, so she downloads the form, helps the sil to fill it out and sign it . Then she puts it in a envelope addresses it, puts a stamp on it, and mails it next day.

"I'll probably have to take her to the polls, too, " my sister says. "She's not real sure how to use the voting machines. But it's ok. I have to bundle T.(her husband who never votes and whom she just registered) into the car and make him go vote. The only bad thing is, since I made him watch the last debate, he really likes O'Malley."

Talked to my Neighbor across the street today.

The Bernie sign I had up blew away last week to parts unknown. At least to me. Turns out it blew into the street and my neighbor picked it up and put it in the back of his pickup. He said he wasn't sure who it belonged to, but since I was already putting another sign up he guessed it was mine. Said he didn't want me to think he'd taken it down or anything because he didn't like the guy. In fact, he said, he and his son had been watching the debate and he thought Sanders had some pretty good ideas. I'm beginning to like him, he said. He's a working man in his forties or so, and anybody less like what a Berniebro is supposed to be can't be imagined.

So, I chickened out

The last time I was supposed to phone for Bernie. But I went today and... it wasn't too bad. We, all two of us, were calling Democrats who'd voted in '12 and '14. I talked to a woman who moved here from Maryland and was a staunch supporter. So, I'll think I'll do it again. I might even knock some doors come Saturday. Who knows?

I went to the opening of Bernie Sanders Greenville, SC office this evening.

The crowd was out the door. I got a Bernie yard sign, another bumper sticker, and I signed up to phone bank. It's a stretch for me, but I REALLY couldn't see myself knocking on doors. And I'd be dismal at entering data. Any tips from veterans would be greatly appreciated. Go Bernie!

Woke this morning to gunfire.

Even though we're not that familiar with the sound of gunshots, we knew what it was. Boom, Boom, Boom. Then silence for a count of three. Boom, Boom,Boom. It sounded like the shooter was standing on our front porch. My husband looked out our bedroom window, but it was pitch black and he could see nothing. We strained to hear and heard nothing. I wondered why the dogs weren't barking. It was unnaturally silent like the silence that comes with a heavy snowfall. We whispered to each other as we moved to the front bathroom away from the windows. Should we call the police?

Then came the other shots, more coughing than booming. A different gun.Was there one person out there or more? Then we could hear faintly someone shouting across the street. I retrieved my cell phone from my bag in the dining room and dialed 911. I told the dispatcher to let the police know there was an active shooter, that he was still shooting, that we couldn't see him, and had no idea what was going on. I was really afraid they would find someone dead in one of the houses across the street.

I went upstairs to see about our daughter. I scared the living daylights out of her. She thought she had heard the shots in a dream. I told her to come downstairs and we waited in the back of the house for the police.

Four squad cars pulled silently into our neighborhood, lights low and stopped at our drive. One of the sheriff's deputies talked to my husband at the door, then went to investigate, telling us to stay inside.

Later we learned that they found the shooter, sitting on his porch across the street, an assault rifle across his lap. He was so drunk that when they told him to stand up, he fell off the porch. He had been firing various guns into the air, into the ground, and into his own car. They told us they found seven guns in his house and, of course, took all of them. They were looking for shell casings for several hours. I hope he never gets his guns back. I don't have much hope he'll never be able to buy another one, though.

I have some faint inkling of how the people in the recent mass shooting felt; of how people in areas where the sound of gunshots is the norm feel. It's not a good feeling.
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